IT’S hard to stay angry for 32 years. The Manic Street Preachers have mellowed as they prepare to head into their 50s, and this month’s 13th studio album, “Resistance Is Futile”, is probably more ‘Songs Of Praise’ than ‘The Holy Bible’, the fury-fuelled masterpiece that established the band as indie music’s arch political agitators in the mid-1990s.

It sits fairly comfortably on the Radio Two playlist, but still packs a punch, and set opener, “International Blue”, provides lead singer James Dean Bradfield with the perfect vehicle to showcase the pitch and power that propel the Manics through a rip-roaring two-hour set.

“Hold Me Like A Heaven”, also off the new album, promises to be a festival favourite, with its swooning chords and singalong chorus, and with more than three decades of music to choose from, the Manics can adopt a scattergun approach, blending the old with the new.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s the older, more overtly aggressive offerings that make the most impact, especially when they’re combined with a video backdrop showing footage of the band’s early days, complete with the presence of Richey Edwards, whose lyrics and life story were so integral to the Manics’ evolution into a band that were proud to stand apart from their Britpop contemporaries.

“Motorcycle Emptiness”, “Slash n Burn”, “You Love Us” and “Faster” have long been firm favourites, but the implied presence of Edwards, who is presumed dead after disappearing in early 1995, gave the classics an emotional new twist.

Bradfield does not get the credit he deserves as a frontman, and while Nicky Wire, with his military coat and pink sunglasses, might be the Manics’ archetypal rock star, you suspect it is Bradfield that has held the band together through their wild ups and downs.

The fact they are still going strong is testament to both their talent and the strength of their convictions. Long may they both endure.