A mesmerising journey through that most perplexingly electrifying and ground-breaking of 90s albums, Mansun’s “Six”.

Being a long-term Mansun and Paul Draper fan has been a rollercoaster ride over the past decade. The sheer elation that I, and I’m sure many others, felt at his return to making music after over a decade out of the limelight, is one of the highlights of my life as a music fan. But this joy has been occasionally punctured by some very public stumbles, with the disastrous Nottingham gig of 2018, and the 2023 court case involving stalking allegations from his former partner Catherine Anne Davies, being two particular lows.

Everyone has the right to choose where to draw the line when the behaviour of someone they admire turns them into something they no longer wish to support. For me, it’s been hard to see an artist whose music has meant so much to me fall repeatedly from grace, clearly suffering himself and causing suffering in others. But great art is never made by the wholly pure and virtuous, and everyone deserves the right to make good after past mistakes. And the music that Paul Draper has made over the past three decades has been so important to me – as I’m sure I have made abundantly clear in many posts on this blog – that it would be almost impossible for me to stop needing his music in my life.

Two things cemented my decision to make the trek to Bath for this gig. First was the fact that it was possibly the last ever opportunity to hear Mansun’s era-defining second album “Six” performed live in full. And the second was the enticements of another gig jaunt to Bath, a city I’d fallen in love with following my first time there the previous year to see the Manics.

So after a delightful day of sightseeing, it was time to head to the Komedia. It was a new venue for me, which I noted in my diary was a ‘delightful little venue, nicer than the Bath Forum I think, as far as Bath venues go.’ And after a thoroughly enjoyable support set from floppy-haired Liverpool five-piece Woo (‘a bit metal, a bit shoegaze, a bit classic indie’), it was time for Paul to take the stage, flanked by a couple of helpers to strap on his guitar. “I’ve no idea who these people are” he quipped, proving that despite being a vastly changed presence physically from his frenetic Mansun days, his laconic humour remained unchanged.

“Cult Leader Tactics” was first of the solo songs set, and incredible, with its dirty, driving riff so completely Mansunesque, it was like entering a parallel universe for one moment where they never split up and here they were on their tour for their 11th album. Then “Friends Make The Worst Enemies” took me right back to the excitement of the early “Spooky Action” days, and sounded incredible, Paul’s voice soaring with operatic angst at the chorus.

Paul was very static on stage throughout the evening, with the fact that he kept his guitar hoisted up towards his chin at all times, even when not playing it, making him seem even more statue-like. But despite this stage presence being even more stationary than back in 2018 on the “Attack of the Grey Lantern” anniversary tour, his wry charm was intact, and his remarkable voice unparalleled and undimmed by the decades.

“Things People Want” and “Feeling My Heart Run Slow” were more fantastic throwbacks to his debut solo album, but for me the highlight of this set was the incredible “Omega Man”, still a pinnacle in Paul’s pantheon of pinnacles, which I reviewed on its day of release back in 2021. Then “You’ve Got No Life Skills Baby” took the first set to a sarky, rocktastic close.

By the time the second set started – the much-anticipated “Six” set – I had made it to the barrier with little difficulty, as the crowd was very sparse. In fact, I noted to myself that my position in front of the stage was quite similar to the one I had at my first Mansun gig at the Kilburn National, 27 years previously, although that was a vastly different experience, with the crush of the crowd frequently threatening life and limb at that 1997 gig.

Like the 2018 tour for Mansun’s debut, this was a faithful run-through of the album, replicating the recorded versions of the tracks as closely as possible, unlike the punkified stripped down versions we’d get at a Mansun gig back in the day. And it was truly magnetic. Paul’s stately stage presence drew the focus entirely to the music of this most terrifyingly bizarre, brash and brilliant album. Beginning with the title track, Paul instructed us to help out with the repeated “more!” refrain, just as we did all those decades ago, and following that with “Negative”, all I could think of was being crushed at the front of Brixton Academy in 1998 when they came onstage to this song.

It was a thrill to hear so many tunes that are etched into my consciousness but never heard live before. The forcefully tuneful yet jaggedly unsettling “Serotonin” was the best of these for me, but then also “Inverse Midas”, with its haunting refrain “everybody helps me make my own mistakes”, was seriously beautiful. For the operatic interlude “Witness To A Murder, Part 2” we were treated to an alternate recording of Tom Baker’s inimitable narration, although sadly no opera singers took the stage to warble the ‘miserere’.

In the latter half of the album, Paul’s high notes for “Television” were incredible, even managing the jaw-dropping tour de force at the end, his voice soaring effortlessly into the stratosphere, before chiding us for singing along an octave lower. “Special/Blown It” was another time capsule back to the late 90s, but then there was “Legacy”. The one moment I nearly teared up, transported to the awful summer of ’98, when I was in the depths of a soul-tearing depression and Mansun were the only good thing in the world. Hearing this song again after more than twenty years, and understanding the slings and arrows of life just that little bit better, was a bit cathartic.

And if you need catharsis, there’s always “Being A Girl”: again over twenty years since I’d last experienced it live, and a complete adrenaline-spiking thrill.

After the set Paul and the band went to the merch stall to do a signing. I had found gig mates in a couple of very friendly but extremely tipsy ladies, and I stood by the stall for a bit and watched one of them make a fool of herself with the boys. But I had nothing for Paul to sign, so I eventually called it a night and went back to my hotel, to record my thoughts in this vlog:

In the year and a half following this tour Paul has kept a low profile, appearing only occasionally on social media with amiable, low-key updates for the fans. Now, with the new “Mansun Retold” album looming, promising an acoustic reinterpretation of some of the band’s key tracks, and a greatest hits tour coming up in March, all signs point to Paul being in a much happier and healthier place than during some of the more notorious episodes from the past decade. I fervently hope this is the case, and can’t wait to experience his incredible voice and those life-changing songs live once again.