MANIC STREET PREACHERS – Prologue To History (2003)

The Manic Street Preachers are unique anthem-makers. “Prologue to History” is a stunning deep cut, originally a B-side to If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next. It’s one of those tracks that fans often argue should have been on This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours instead of something like SYMM—and honestly, they have a point.

The song has an urgent, dramatic energy, driven by that glorious piano, which feels both chaotic and triumphant. It gives the track this almost theatrical intensity, blending beautifully with James Dean Bradfield’s impassioned vocals. There’s a touch of grandeur, yet also a rawness, making it feel like a lost anthem of defiance.

Lyrically, it’s classic Nicky Wire—dense, political, and poetic, referencing history, resistance, and the disillusionment of modern life. The opening lines, “There is no poetry in my heart / There is no poetry in my soul” set a stark tone, reflecting a kind of frustrated idealism, something the Manics have always done so well.

Were we the Kinnock factor Am I talking private sector Do I think I’m Shaun William Ryder Or my former friend whose now undercover He’s gone and I’m no deserter Perhaps I’m hard all the same

Today a poet who can’t play guitar Tomorrow Steve Ovett has injured his calf Next year the world’s greatest politician Yesterday the boy who once had a mission

I don’t want to be A prologue to history A prologue to histor…

So I water my plants with Evian A brand new Dyson that is decadent Read my papers and the business section Checkout the tessas and the pensions Call my friends and they’re alright So I pray for the safety of the night

Today a poet who can’t play guitar Tomorrow Steve Ovett has injured his calf Next year the world’s greatest politician Yesterday the boy who once had a mission

I don’t want to be A prologue to history A prologue to histor…

Remember ethnic cleansing in the highlands No one says a thing in the middle of En-ger-land I’m bruised fruit but still taste so nice But if you look at me you better look twice I’m talking rubbish to cover up the cracks An empty vessel who can’t make contact

Today a poet who can’t play guitar Tomorrow Phil Bennett’s playing outside half Next year the world’s greatest politician Yesterday the boy who once had a mission

I don’t want to be A prologue to history A prologue to history A prologue to history A prologue