Manic Street Preachers - Gold Against the Soul (1993)

I'm going to give it a generous ★★★★★.

Ultimately I love the Welsh, despite me living in their wretched, rain-soaked, bleak, be-peopled by grotesque, violent, intolerant and ignorant so-called mammal-humans (who are, in reality - and this is a matter of undisputed scientific fact - three-legged, curiously/coincidentally (!??) sheep-eyed freaks), yet who are thankfully, largely - upontilthispoint - confined to a blasted, putrescent world of finite scope but one that is nevertheless disturbingly - ominously - infinite in its loathsomeness - diseased troglodytes who clean their teeth with a mushroom* (it must be acknowledged that to a primitive mind a mushroom can look like a toothbrush at a distance) and talk like some cult babbling cant as may be found in an H.P. Lovecraft book, but usually in groups and in a pleasing, sing-song fashion that warms the heart some.

...I write this alone on my bed
I've poisoned every room in my house
The place is quiet and so alone
Pretend there's something worth waiting for...

Well, yes, I did write those words alone in my bed - BUT WHEN I WAS 7 YEARS OLD FFS! - and then someone must have overheard them (I lived a caravan FFS) and over the years it got passed on, like 'Lampeter whispers' to Richie "4 Real" Cunningham out of Unhappy Days (the Welsh spin off of the popular US sitcom - featuring Y Fonz and notorious the 'neidio siarc's scene) and...

Anyway, the word "window", that's got a fairly interesting etymological root hasn't it.

Y'know.


*the same mushroom is passed about amongst thousands of these wretched beasts