The Bluster Boy by Davey Macmanus – book review
From life on the edges of fame with bands The Crocketts and The Crimea to working as a nurse and volunteer in one of the most dangerous places in the world while coping with mental health issues and addiction. The Bluster Boy heralds a return to music for Davey Macmanus, as he tells his life story through a patchwork of poetry, photography, and narrative writing.
Title: The Bluster Boy
Author: Davey Macmanus
Publisher: Rotten Poetry
Get your copy of The Bluster Boy here
It is beautiful and it is brutal, this life. It is relentless devastation fended off by the faintest whisper of bloody-nosed hope. It has you on the ropes and yet, for reasons you’ll never be able to name, you keep fighting.
This is the story Davey Macmanus shares with us in The Bluster Boy, an autobiography told mainly through a chronological curation of his poetry, lyrics, photography, and writing.
It also heralds a return to art and music for Macmanus as not only do we get this collection but are on the cusp of release for album Even The Trees Know Karate. A decade since his last full length release his time in music, courted by fame with bands The Crocketts and The Crimea, The Bluster Boy leads us up to that portion of Macmanus’ life and the even wilder events that came after quitting rock and roll.
But let’s not rush through the years, we’ll come to all that and more. Let’s linger first on Macmanus as a songwriter, for he may be underrated but in truth is one of the finest.
“Just the two of us left in this rusty old tub Neither overjoyed to be out of love Takes one black cloud to spoil the bright day I was the black cloud She was the bright day” – Opposite Ends
Tumbling thoughts poetically strung, teetering so close to the edge of incoherence they are almost painfully resonant. Half-spoken lyrics and always that catch in the vocal. Crunching chords, twinkling melodies and songs which have stood up well in the decades since their creation there has always been, and remains, an underdog feel to this music.
As a performer there was a visceral physicality which, as this book details, was heavily fuelled by self-destructive struggles. They played huge shows supporting the likes of Stereophonics, Kings of Leon, Ash and Billy Corgan, but at their own more intimate headline shows it was the closeness which created connection.
At those Macmanus would often leave the stage, still playing with a desperate passion as he was circled by the audience. We were drawn in and held back, enthralled and repulsed, and all things inbetween as we became both isolated by our own experiences and inseparable in the moment we shared.
In how he writes of those times in The Bluster Boy Macmanus shares the blessing and curse of major labels, the chance encounter with John Peel leading to the iconic DJ falling in love with what became tracks for album Tragedy Rocks (a personal all time favourite of mine), the pressure of being asked for ‘hits’, and the shaking of the whole industry by being the first band to release an album for free online. He also talks indirectly to how personal pain is exploited by the industry for financial gain. He gives a frank account of his spiralling descent through drugs, self-harm, mental health and eating disorders.
Sharing excerpts of his blogging from the time, the emotion and the colour of it all makes this an auto-biographical account you absorb as a series of feelings, rather than facts learned. Real life can be relentless and while Macmanus’ writing is incredibly evocative it is also direct. There is no romanticising a tortured artist or glorifying struggle in the name of art here, but rather an unintentionally confrontational read. The focus is always sharply on this soul laid bare and experiences recounted honestly; there is no sense that any of this has been curated purely to elicit a reaction.
Disillusion with the industry was part of the reason for walking away from music but the greater part was the need for purpose, a desire to be of service to others. The second half of the book shares his experiences nursing and volunteering in Africa. It is easy to race through the chapters, caught up in the heartbreak and the hope, but these stories and the people – often children facing intense hardships – are worth being honoured with so much more time.
Nursing, addiction, and mental health swirl around each other in a cycle of shame and absolution, of giving to others and taking from self. So much of what is shared here is life in the shadow of death, seeing it cast over others while working in health care or feeling it too heavy leading to suicide attempts. The writing here is raw, the experiences more so. For every ounce of hope, there is a ton of despondency. Being able to externalise it, express it, start to process it through writing is the thread that holds this life together, just.
“If this is it If this all there is I don’t want to play anymore The bandstand burns tonight And I’m going up with it Don’t believe in waking up each day Don’t believe in playing this game Don’t believe the written prophecies Don’t believe in my own destiny Don’t believe in miracles Strange things just happen” – The Only Living Boy and Girl
Life spirals again and in the closing chapters Macmanus shares how he focused on healing, finding community in support groups, and building relationships as he recovered from addictions.
The theme of hope, never directly mentioned, underpins the collection. It is frequently beaten to the point you think it must be gone, Macmanus directly battling what is inside him and also witnessing the harrowing lives others find themselves living. But thoughout this forms a record of hope, battered and bloodied, rising nevertheless. There is nothing sensationalised in the shocking, but can be visceral both in reflecting how lonely love can be, how simple connections can be found, how quickly our internal worlds and external circumstances can turn.
And turn it does, for Davey Macmanus has slowly been returning to music. Not the industry which once encouraged self-destruction but the purity of expression in this form. Teaching himself to play piano during lockdown, and finding his voice again, he has busked and bathed and found his own salvation in part by processing through creativity. A series of gigs in 2024 seemed cathartic, but also demonstrated how deeply important his work continues to be for others.
The Bluster Boy is a stunning and courageous collection of very personal and yet resonant art. As brutal as it is beautiful there is unfathomable love, and crushing despair. There is rejection and redemption, an endless fight with the self and with the world. Ultimately there is acceptance and that longed for connection. There is honesty and vulnerability on every page, in every word, and in every moment shared.
~
The Bluster Boy by Davey Macmanus is available with the first single from forthcoming album, Even The Trees Know Karate, from 23 August 2024. Get it here from Rotten Poetry.
God Is In The TV will live stream the book launch on their website on 23 August 2024 from 6.30pm – more about this on their website here. The launch takes place at Bridge Street Books, Wicklow and tickets to attend in person are available on their website.
Image by Neil Gavin
Sarah Lay
A long-standing music journalist she's also co-founder of independent record label Reckless Yes, an author of novels, and when not messing around with words and music, a digital strategist.
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