In memory of Mani (Nov 16, 1962 - Nov 20, 2025)
There’s a bittersweetness I circle back to whenever I listen to “Made of Stone”. A reminder of the past. This song, like so much of The Stone Roses’ self-titled debut, is an elegy and an anthem all at once. In the wake of Mani’s passing, it carries even more weight. Mani was more than a bassist — he was the steel in The Stone Roses’ backbone. His bass lines weren’t just supportive; they were melodic, muscular, alive. They wrapped around the songs. His playing filled spaces without crowding, giving the guitar and Ian Brown’s vocals room to breathe, but always pulling you forward, always anchoring you.
It feels strange to celebrate and invest so much emotional energy in a band that’s often known primarily for just their debut album. But that first album was everything. Easily an all-time top 5 album for me. And it wasn’t just an album — it was a map, laying the foundations for the Madchester scene, for Britpop, for so many bands that came after. Without The Stone Roses, the landscape of British music in the ’90s would have looked very different.
“Made of Stone”, in particular, has aged exceptionally well. Raw, melancholic, and somehow looking backward and forward at the same time. Hearing it again, I’m immediately transported back to my bedroom as a teenager where I spent countless hours playing the debut album over and over again. The phrase “made of stone” suggests impenetrability, but there’s an underlying fragility in Brown’s vocal delivery — as if he’s trying to convince us and maybe himself that he’s unbreakable. That duality — strength and doubt — is the power of “Made of Stone”. This duality echoes in the way Mani played. Grit and grace, melodic muscle, bass lines that make space for us to dream and reflect. Rest in peace, Mani. Your impact remains.
“SOMETIMES I FANTASIZE WHEN THE STREETS ARE COLD AND LONELY. AND THE CARS, THEY BURN BELOW ME.”