1) Recuerda; 2) The Boy from the Plantation; 3) There'll Come a War; 4) Seeking the Room with the Three Windows; 5) Thirty Thousand Milk Bottles; 6) Under the Mimosa Tree; 7) From the Hands of Violeta; 8) Without Knowing the End (Joan's Song); 9) La Partida; 10) The Last Song; 11) Santiago Sunrise
Part prog rock, part musical - Bradfield indulges in his more conceptual flair, given the chance.
Key tracks: "Recuerda", "Without Knowing the End (Joan's Song)", "The Last Song"
I was as surprised as anyone that James Dean Bradfield ever released a second solo album - and that probably includes Bradfield himself. The Manic Street Preachers frontman is a workaholic who's always writing and composing, but he's faithfully devoted to his band. Since its release his attitude towards his 2006 debut solo album has been that of a formerly faithful husband caught cheating, embarrassedly brushing it off as a moment's folly, and any other solo work since has been various soundtrack work for small independent projects. Most of those have never seen an official release, and Bradfield has kept his musical endeavours tightly synonymous with his band. That long silence was broken by Even in Exile, a song cycle about the Chilean activist and musician Victor Jara, and even this didn't start out as an album or even Bradfield to begin with, but as a personal writing exercise for Patrick Jones, brother of Manics' Nicky Wire and Bradfield's close friend. Bradfield caught wind and Jara's life became a passion project for both men who have collaborated in the past in a variety of off-hand projects (including some of those aforementioned soundtracks), where they turned the poems into lyrics and from there into songs.
Bradfield is the voice of his band in many ways and Even in Exile isn't a million miles away from a Manics record - Bradfield's vocals and guitar chops are immediately recognisable even from a distance, and he isn't actively dodging the similarities either. You can't really ask a leopard to change its spots, much less one who seemingly shudders at the thought of breaking away from his day job - and so, Even in Exile hits a lot of familiar beats for anyone who's familiar with Bradfield's day job. Parts of the record could have well appeared on a Manics album, especially whenever Bradfield aims directly for the jugular: the anthemic and radio-ready "The Boy from the Plantation", the excited firecracker "Without Knowing the End" and the piano-guided
stomper "Thirty Thousand Milk Bottles" all nestle in familiar
Bradfield territory. "The Boy from the Plantation" in particular is exactly the kind of
archtypical lead single which Bradfield is keen to include on each album
these days, and its soaring choruses and biography-heavy lyrics (serving as the cliff's notes intro to Jara for anyone who's unfamiliar with him) would feel at home on any Manics album from the past ten years. But if anything, those familiar traits appearing across here display just how well he's perfected that loud and ecstatic guitar anthem vibe rather than showing any signs of a songwriter stuck in his own groove. "The Boy from the Plantation" is admittedly predictable, but when that chorus soars it's practically irresistable; and without "Without Knowing the End" Even in Exile would be a much lesser album as it zooms past with such life-affirming energy that's not been heard in a Manics album in a while.
And then there's the other side of the album. This is the first time Bradfield has worked on an honest concept album and having that clear throughline has given him space to let loose and experiment. Even in Exile is on closer examination Bradfield taking his lowkey soundtrack work to the next level by merging that level of aural storytelling with his usual rock band tricks. The combination is that Even in Exile turns out to be as much a prog rock album as it is a musical. The songs go through Jara's life from his unassuming beginnings to his tragic end, starting with a clear theme-setting overture ("Recuerda") and ending with a post mortem epilogue about his legacy by way of "Santiago Sunrise", with each key character in Jara's life getting their own their signature songs along the way. These pieces have then been arranged around unexpected time signature and key changes and the songs often start in one place and either finish in or detour somewhere completely different along the way. There's even three widescreen instrumental compositions just to further underline the connections to Bradfield's soundtrack work, including a cover of Jara's "La Partida" which has been transformed from a jaunty acoustic number to a bombastic spaghetti western theme. Bradfield has been subtly flirting with less formulaic song structures across the past few Manics albums prior to this, and Even in Exile sounds like the logical next step from there, taken to distances that he perhaps doesn't feel fits the core Manics sound.
It's not like Bradfield goes wildly mad with the songs - strong centrepiece choruses and tightly wrapped four-minute songs are an integral part of his writer's DNA. But he's never predictable either. You couldn't ask for a better opener than "Recuerda" in that respect, moving through its mini-suites of differing tempos and tones from subtle soundtrack textures to explosive stadium guitars, thrilling throughout its bombastic run as it acts as an introduction to Even in Exile's shifts. "The Last Song" breaks out into lengthy, synth-driven instrumental vignettes, "From the Hands of Violeta" cuts through its gentle mood by the later choruses that jolt into life with wild abandon, alongside many other smaller surprises scattered throughout. While his signature guitar is all across the album, Even in Exile also sees Bradfield compose with a piano for the first time in his long career and that's likely where some of the more unexpected sounds originate from; this most notably reveals itself in the haunting duo of "There'll Come a War" and "Sandiago Sunrise", both immensely atmospheric and spatial pieces where the lonely piano notes are accompanied by a booming drum machine and various guitar and keyboard textures respectively.
The instrumentals, too, are of note. They're miniature film scores played with rock band arrangements, perfectly telling a story through music alone with no verbal accompaniment. They feel a little superfluous (or abundant) at first, but they do bridge together the album closer together and help the flow of the narrative move smoothly from the triumphant beginnings to the bittersweet and uncertain end. Jara's story isn't a particularly happy one - he had a humongous impact to Chilean culture through his songs and he protested the political powers that be by bringing ordinary people together by singing about them, which then lead to him being targeted when Augusto Pinochet rose to power and shortly after his brutal death by the hands of Pinochet's squards. Even in Exile starts as a celebration of Jara and his impact but the chronological song sequence becomes more and more wistful the closer towards the album reaches Jara's end. The end is not without its glimmer of hope as Jara's death only served to gild his legacy and both "The Last Song" and "Santiago Sunrise" simmer through a mix of funeral sadness and burning defiance. The song cycle does genuinely feel like a story is being told through music and the instrumentals help depict what words can't through their atmosphere: "Seeking the Room with the Three Windows" radiantly explodes as one of the album's most out-and-out rock moments to insinuate how intensely the gear suddenly shifted in Jara's life, "Under the Mimosa Tree" serves as a spot of peace centered around the warmth of Jara's personal life, and his own "La Partida" shouts out with triumph one last time before the end.
The one particularly exciting facet across all eleven songs is hearing Bradfield sound so free-spirited and uncharacteristically jovial, seeing as how these days he treats his band with utmost seriousness most of the time. There's flashes of the old sly fox familiar for long-time fans revealing itself throughout Even in Exile, in its cheeky little tempo twists, jubilant melodic explosions and the general unrestricted inspiration it operates on. Writing for something with tangible continuity in its content has inspired Bradfield to tailor his music accordingly and despite its obvious standalone candidates (which work perfectly outside the context, for the record), Even in Exile works best as a body of work - and by aiming to make such a record, it's resulted in Bradfield bringing some genuinely new ideas to the table. It also makes sense as a James Dean Bradfield release specifically rather than as a Manic Street Preachers album by any other name, showing off aspects that might not ever be extended to this degree in his band's music. For a man who's on his fourth decade of releasing records - and for a fan who's followed those records for around for three quarters of that time span - that's wild, even ecstatic.
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