I started this blog last night, still in a state of shock from the news of Mani's death. The news of a hero dying is difficult to take. It feels surreal. I had photos of Mani on my wall, rocking his bass while playing live on the Other Side of Midnight, a performance that would be captured on the bands eponymous debut album sleeve. I had a big poster of the Roses memorably covered in paint, in homage to both Jackson Pollock and the Roses visit to the the offices of FM Revolver, where Mani and his mates covered owner Paul Birch in gloss paint. Payback for repeated re-releases of Sally Cinnamon and a shoddy video that didn't do the song or band justice.
Last night I lay in bed with headphones on watching YouTube clips of the Roses. I'll move on to the Scream in the coming days. But Mani was a Rose. He always will be.
In one of his last interviews, with Gary Kemp and Guy Pratt, for their Rockonteurs podcast (a great watch - see below), Mani talks openly of how hard life has been for him since the passing of his beloved wife Imelda a couple of years ago. He also laughs hard when reminiscing about the paint episode with Paul Birch.
Mani fucking loved the Roses. He talks so fondly of them all.
Towards the end of the podcast I cried a few tears as Mani spoke about both Weller and Marr wanting him to play with them and he said he felt he was ready to get out and play again. Sadly, we'll never see the loveable rogue on stage with his massive grin, never feel his rumbling, funky and/or pulsating bass.
I'm glad I caught him with the Roses, the Scream and even with Freebass over the years.
Heroes can seem indestructible. Mani's death doesn't feel real. It can't be true. Reading obituaries and tributes feels surreal.
It hit me this afternoon. I was driving home from lunch with my friend Elliott and Craig Charles started talking about Mani, telling a great tale of going out to one pub and then another with him. Oozing fond memories about Mani as a person and his love of life. Then he played Adored and tears fell from my eyes.
Gary Mountfield, better known, and almost universally known as, Mani, was a larger than life character - on stage, on TV and in person. I know loads of people who met and hung out with Mani over the years - on European always for his beloved Manchester United, and in his native Manchester and second home (for a while) Glasgow.
Nobody ever had a bad word to say about Mani. He was a delight to be around and was very much a people person. He enjoyed company, chat and antics. Everyone enjoyed his chat, company and antics, his energy was infectious, his cheeky smile was a delight. He had a unique vibe, beautifully positive and up for life.
I think Mani knew how his fans and friends adored him. That's a good thing.
Mani came to my attention through the Stone Roses, a band I described in this blog just last month as - the most perfect band I have ever fallen for. Their music, artwork, hair, clothes, personalities ...
I had the good fortune to meet Mani twice. In March 1999, when I ended up going for a couple of pints with him and his friend Phil (Smith, Oasis tour DJ) and then in the summer of 2012 in Amsterdam when I travelled to see one of the Roses first comeback shows.
I've reminisced about that first time (blog here) - when I went for a couple of pints with him one lunchtime after meeting him on Sauchiehall Street - several times since learning of his death. Some say you should never meet your heroes. I'm so glad I met Mani. He didn't have to invite me for a beer after I showed him to the pub he was looking for. He did.
Mani didn't have to answer all my questions about the Roses and the Scream. He did. He was buzzing for his bass on the Scream album that they were working on. Mani's bass was central and crucial to 2000's XTRMNTR. Who needs lead guitar when you have lead bass?!
I was tempted to run across the road to HMV, buy all the Roses records I could afford (even though I had them all) and ask Mani to sign them. But I didn't. (a) it wouldn't have been cool (b) I just basked in the warmth radiating from him.
Primal Scream were a perfect fit for Mani. The friendship he developed with Bobby Gillespie was natural and pure. They always came across as soul brothers. They could both party with the best of them. And by all accounts they did.
Mani was always likely to be the Rose who broke through the thorns to bring the band back together again. Everyone else had fallen out with each other. Their reunion came through heartbreaking circumstances, when difference were put to one side and they all attended Mani's Mums funeral.
No-one wanted a reunion more than Mani - he was very arguably the biggest Roses fan in the world.
The second time I met Mani was after the Roses played Amsterdam in June 2012. It was the night after Reni had walked off stage early. Mani was nursing a pint in a central square and looked like he might have been up all night. He made time for photos with people and I mentioned that we had shared a couple of pints in Glasgow years previously. He thanked me and posed for the photo below.
I loved his sweatshirt so much that my wife tracked one down for my Christmas that year. I still have it.
Look at the beautiful photo below of Mani super charged at Heaton Park. I was there on the Sunday and there were times when the camera honed in on Mani and he looked as if he was partying as much as the crowd :-)
I'm so glad the Roses reformed and toured the world to make so many people happy.
I'm heartbroken by the news. in recent times I've enjoyed Mani's Instagram posts about the dinners he has been making. His humour shines through.
Tragically, Mani lost his beloved wife Imelda to cancer two years ago (almost to the day), at the age of just 53. They leave behind twin boys who are only 12. My thoughts go out to them, Mani's family, all those closest to him and all fellow fans who are feeling it.
R.I.P. Mani. Thank you so much for your energy, passion and bass lines.
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