…I remember the introduction to “From Despair To Where?”, looking over to where Richey would have been standing, swigging at a bottle of whisky, and there was no one there. And when we came offstage, I virtually had a breakdown. I was just crying hysterically for about three hours, like a twat. The first time I’d been able to cry since the day they found his car.
There’s this strength right down the middle in James and Sean pounding away, keeping the beat; then there’s just two loonies on either side of them - barely playing and incessantly talking. Such perfect symmetry.
“Sleeping in the same bed as him for six months when the Manics moved in
with [late manager] Philip Hall in Shepherds Bush. I’d sleep on one
side of the bed, him on the other, and the stench of vodka emanating
from his side was unbelievable. He’d say stuff like, ‘I think I have an
orange growing in my stomach. Nicky! I can feel it’ because he used to
drink so much vodka and orange”
Every Manics fan:yes, you love Richey, we know, you love Richey so much, he's the light of your life, you love him so much, you just love Richey, we KNOW, you love Richey you fucking love Richey, ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE RICHEY. WE GET IT.