Mani overboard

Mani is, of course, renowned as possibly the most rabid Man United fan in the rock’n’roll universe. Being of Manchester City persuasion myself, your correspondent gleefully avails of the all-too-rare opportunity to gloat from the great height of the Premiership’s summit. Notoriously nice lad that he is, Mani doesn’t take it too badly. “I’m in fuckin’ shock,” he testifies. “I’d just got back from a festival where we were partying in traditionally extreme fashion, so I was a burnt-out wreck and I really could have done without the shock. I’ve noticed a pattern – every fuckin’ time the Scream are playing and I can’t go to the game, City always do us. Good luck to ‘em, it’s not like they’re ever going to win anything. It was a once-in-a-lifetime frustrating experience. I hope you enjoyed it, cause it might never happen again. I’ve had to listen to Noel Gallagher banging on about it, he seems to think they’re going to win the Premiership, poor sod. Savour it while it lasts, mate.”

Mani is on record as saying he’ll only contemplate a Stone Roses reunion in the event of “Man City winning the European Cup,” so we can assume there’s only 20 months to go before the gang’s long-awaited third coming. Possessed of ancestral Irish blood (his forebears hailed from Castledermot in County Kildare) he also holds a torch for Celtic, used to play on the wing for Manchester Catholic Schoolboys, and supports Ireland rather than England in international combat. He’s about to visit our shores for the Electric Picnic, his pal Irvine Welsh having sung the festival’s praises wholeheartedly. “Everybody I’ve spoken to says it’s basically the perfect festival, so I’m well up for it. Bring it on. Irvine’s a fuckin’ gem and a great judge of these things, so his recommendation’s good enough for me.”
On the day of our chinwag, Mani’s got a funeral to attend: that of Factory Records supremo and all-round legend Tony Wilson.
“I can’t tell you how sad it is. I knew him pretty well. Manchester’s lost a unique voice. The guy’s left some legacy, though – culturally, musically, he just did so much. I loved the film (24 Hour Party People), which was dead accurate: I actually had a little cameo role in it.”
Wilson’s career-span coincided with a seismic shift in external perceptions of Manchester. Once stereotyped as a bleak miserable industrial wasteland with appropriately grim musical output (Joy Division, The Fall), the city gradually gained a reputation as Party Central, with the Roses, Mondays, Oasis and New Order all renowned for living life to the full (and beyond).
Mani’s aware of the shift, but points out: “The weather’s still as shit as it was in 1979. I love the place, but I wish it wouldn’t rain as much. It probably helps the creativity levels, cause you’ve got to do something to kill the time, haven’t you? There’s something in the water here, there has to be – the place keeps on producing great bands. Of the new breed, I’d recommend you check out Working For A Nuclear-Free City, and this garage band called The Snarls. As far as places to go, I do a radio show every Monday from the Revolution Bar at Deansgate Locks, called Mani’s Manic Monday, which is a fuckin’ great night with live bands and visuals and what have you. If yer in town, you’ve got to check it out.”
On the subject of Mancunian legends, what’s his assessment of the also Picnic-bound Mark E. Smith: perfect gentleman or psychotic wanker?
“I take people as I find them. I’ve always found Mark a quality bloke: dead honest, incredibly smart, and funny as fuck. I’m sure he has his moments, like everyone else, but he’s one in a million and I’d have massive respect for him. I think he’s an autobiography coming out next year: it might border on fiction, but you can be sure it won’t be dull.”

Primal Scream play the Electric Picnic on Sunday September 2