Three perfectly valid statements, but ones that are doomed to be met with derision and a total lack of respect – let’s face it, would you take the opinions of someone who thinks that overdosing on faux fur…on a daily basis constitutes fashion? Would you stay around to listen to them wax lyrical about a reference to an obscure piece of literature that Nicky once mentioned he thought was okay, misty look in eyes and all? Stay until some testosterone pumped lager lout who only bought the album cos he felt a deep connection, maaaan, with the chorus of Design For Life took a dislike to the poor kid and punched his face in? Stay and watch said Madchester yobs sneer as said dead end doll’s tears carve murky black mascara trails down through his glitter, but he doesn’t mind, cos, he’s all, like, sensitive and in touch?

See, this has become the Manics numero uno problem – over a decade ago they vowed to explode with mass appeal, but they had to mould themselves, chameleon-like, to fit what each person wanted (you want excessive guitaring tricks? You got ‘em! Polished LA rock? Military chic? Stadium rockers? Form an orderly queue at the pound sign!) before moving on – total, pure, divide and conquer.

Thing is, when you try to sit back and tally up your assets, you come across the problem of having a bizarre and mis-matched back catalogue to piece together. That’s not to say the music’s at fault cos it certainly ain’t – one thing that the Manics can have an assured boast of is a collection of classics under their belts – it’s just that it’s like, say, putting Good Vibrations on an album, following it with Paranoid, and expecting the CD to fit together like a nicely varnished jig saw puzzle. A Manics Greatest Hits was never going to be coherent or logical, it was never gonna be seamless or comprehensible, but it was always going to spark a debate over whether it’s got the right tracks, or they’re in the right order, or it stays ‘true to the original spirit’. The only common feature throughout the band’s history has been the ability to thoroughly piss some people off, so it’s kinda appropriate that that’s exactly what this odd bunch of songs are doing.

Kicking off with a bang was a top move – the three tracks that are arguably their most superior, eloquent songs to date, and have reached the stage of being played in the ‘classic’ section of the radio – listen, learn, then the skip button is all yours. La Tristesse Durera is nothing short of funky, still sounding as hummable as it was back in the day, and with none of the dated production values you can expect on early ‘90’s tracks, something they’ve also managed to avoid with their more reflective moments.

Poignancy abounds on From Despair To Where (a song that should be up their with the classics, but hey, that’s the record buying public for ya), the track on which James realised just how heartbreakingly he could sing. Sings in the same way at the start of The Everlasting, but that one gets let down by the frankly embarrassing lyrical fluff. And the poignancy comes back on the chorus of So Why So Sad – ignore the sleigh bells and they’re actually a decent tune under there ya know! Might help if you block out the Motown-y backing vocals…and that peculiar solo (what the hell IS that instrument?)….OK, you have to look deep, but I promise the tune is there, it’s just a bit buried!

Theme From M*A*S*H? Marketing ploy. Doesn’t stop it from sounding top though. And You Love Us still burns with vitriol, but if you didn’t know it already you’d find it hard to believe that it was spawned form the same album as the pretty little ditty that is Little Baby Nothing. Along the same lines of tuneful but ultimately vapid fluff is Australia – hasn’t changed since the last time you heard it on Grandstand, isn’t likely to change much in the future.

Interestingly (or not, depending on your point of view), pretty much all the post Richey years singles are on here yet only one track from The Holy Bible makes the grade. Looks like the poor little Welsh boys are still trying to escape from their history. Ah well, at least it’s the best goddam track off the album, summing up everything the Manics ever were (and to some, everything the Manics ARE), a lifetimes worth of intensity forced screaming into one tiny, gritty pop song. Stunning.

And the new songs take another twist in the lives of the Manics – the new single takes them down the haunting-melody-with-added-synthesisers route, bit of a grower. Not a classic, but hypnotically beautiful. Door To The River, however, is a right tearjerker, filled to the brim with plaintive lyrics and gorgeous string arrangements. For some, it’ll fall into the category of indulgent rock balladry, but for those of us with ears, it’s just lovely.

And then the revolution of Motown Junk brings it to a show stopping halt. It’s a strange choice to leave to last, most would choose a big string filled 6 minute finale, not a chaotic 3 mins of an adrenaline pushed punk rock. This is the song that makes the album worth it, this is why you’ll hear whatever songs take your fancy off the rest of the album, but you’ll STOP and LISTEN to this.

So. That’s the album. It doesn’t fit together, it does miss tracks out and it is muddled up. But it’s also a collection of some of the greatest songs of the ‘90’s, so who really gives one if you have to use the skip button every now and then?