It is February 2001 and I’m in a marquee up on the old railway arches in Bishopsgate for the NME Awards. U2 and Coldplay are among those who have made their way to this as-yet-ungentrified part of East London for beer and canapés. But for reasons lost to time, I end up hosting an impromptu after-party at my flat – about five minutes away near Brick Lane – with Mani and Kevin Shields. After a long evening, we’re all significantly worse for wear and Mani keeps playing Jon Carter’s version of “I Am The Resurrection” from the recent Stone Roses remix album at deafening volume on my stereo. In the distance, I can hear a loud, insistent thumping, which I assume is the bassbin on my speakers. Not long after, my flat is thrown into silence and total darkness. Taking charge, Mani throws open the front door to find my neighbour outside, in full nightwear, fuse in hand, ready for a row. Within seconds, Mani has charmed him sufficiently that the PJ-wearing interloper has even apologised for pulling the plug on my electricity…
It is February 2001 and I’m in a marquee up on the old railway arches in Bishopsgate for the NME Awards. U2 and Coldplay are among those who have made their way to this as-yet-ungentrified part of East London for beer and canapés. But for reasons lost to time, I end up hosting an impromptu after-party at my flat – about five minutes away near Brick Lane – with Mani and Kevin Shields. After a long evening, we’re all significantly worse for wear and Mani keeps playing Jon Carter’s version of “I Am The Resurrection” from the recent Stone Roses remix album at deafening volume on my stereo. In the distance, I can hear a loud, insistent thumping, which I assume is the bassbin on my speakers. Not long after, my flat is thrown into silence and total darkness. Taking charge, Mani throws open the front door to find my neighbour outside, in full nightwear, fuse in hand, ready for a row. Within seconds, Mani has charmed him sufficiently that the PJ-wearing interloper has even apologised for pulling the plug on my electricity…
When I next see Mani, a few weeks later in the Social on Little Portland Street, he acts like it was the funniest thing that has ever happened to him. Such generosity of spirit was a very Mani thing. As Mike Joyce, another Manchester music legend, tells Rob Hughes in our cover story: “He was very engaging, always approachable and made everybody feel at ease.”
There’s a lot in the issue besides Rob’s Stone Roses cover story, including Sam Sodomsky’s revelatory encounter with Bill Callahan in Texas, Alastair McKay’s typically insightful interview with Emmylou Harris, Micky Dolenz on the birth of The Monkees and Kevin Perry’s wild times in New Orleans with Greazy Alice.
Plenty, in other words, to ease you into 2026.
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