Like everyone, I feel numb at the news.

Mani was always so full of life and seemed an eternal cheeky rascal who was a key part of one of the greatest bands ever. He was the forever kid and the Stone Roses legendary bass player whose sudden death has left a huge gaping gap in the Manchester pantheon of greats. 

Ironically, he had just announced an in-conversation tour and a deserved spotlight moment and then suddenly died, leaving both shock and awe and an internet full of stories of his generous spirit and loveable rogue presence.

No one ever had a bad word for Mani. He was the real deal in a world full of fakes, and his manic cackling presence was a welcome crackle of electric energy wherever he popped up. He was the down to earth icon who wore his heart on his sleeve and somehow still kept his manic spirit even after his beloved wife Imelda died two years ago after her inspirational and brave fight against cancer.  Not only was Mani one of the great bass players from the city, Mani was also one of the Stone Roses, who were more than just a band. They were a cultural force that turned the scene on its head when they finally burst out. They were also one of those rare bands where everyone can name every member of the group – a testament to their gang of four solidarity in those glorious late eighties when they caught the euphoric mood of the times with that classic debut. 

Folk hero, bass legend and genuine street kid, Mani personified Manchester. He was football (Man U) and music through and through.  Yet another fabled ‘Manchester kid with the best record collection’, he was the punk rocker who was also a funk soul brother who added the groove to the mothership and the soul power to the Stone Roses. When he joined, he helped turn them into the godhead band of a generation, teaching them how to dance. If Ian and John were the ice-cool inner core and Reni the extraordinary drummer, it was Mani who was the man (or Mani) of the people. His bass lines taught the indie kids how to dance and his spirit gave the Stone Roses another level of cool. If Ian and John looked ice cool in the classic photos of the band it was Mani who gurned like a loon and looked like the fan who got to join the band, and his obvious onstage glee was contagious. 

Yet he had more than earned his space and his killer bass lines, cool as fuck floppy fringe and baggy swagger was Manc lad personified.  He was also another public face of the band. The friendly one who never fell out with his band mates and always had time for fans, or infact anyone who crossed his path.

If some of the bass lines on the Roses’ classic debut album were inherited from the fingertips of the band’s previous bass player, the late Peter Garner, after being embedded in the songs by John Squire, Mani turned them into his own. He had a swing and groove that twisted the notes into intoxicating grooves and his wild spirit and joy de vivre and sheer exhilaration were in his sonic swagger, lifting the songs into the euphoric heights, making the Stone Roses debut album a generational game changer.

It’s that astonishing debut album that rings through the decades and still sounds as fresh and thrilling now as the day it came out. It caught the music press and radio off guard and left music journalist fans like yours truly in a minority when praising it. As it slowly rose up the charts, the band caught fire and by the time they played Blackpool Empress Ballroom in the summer of 1989, there was a genuine youthquake of bucket hats, flares and baggy clothes as the Manc pied pipers drew the massed hordes to the most quintessential northern town of them all in one of those perfect moments and perfect gigs.

The Roses seemed unstoppable and if they perhaps took too long to release their follow-up, Second Coming, and missed their moment and had to watch their disciples taking over the asylum and stealing their thunder they were still the ultimate alchemical wizards. The second album was oddly underrated and with Mani’s bass lines locking into the Reni super grooves it had one of the most thrilling, fluid rhythm sections of all time. It was the last remnant of the much hoped for and mythical Roses’ second album that should have been released just after Fools Gold – the moment when they had morphed into the hottest band in the land with molten funk grooves meshed into their northern souls. They took too long but this gold dust magic can still be heard lurking in the Second Coming and its flawed genius was still there to get immersed in.

The Roses left a stunning legacy – two classic albums and a run of singles that signposted a generation and sparked bands as diverse as the Verve to Blur from Oasis to every Britpop band. They exited stage left before reforming years later for that astounding series of shows over two tours. I got to see their reformation close up in the support band in my role as compere for the Justice Band and the camaraderie and lust for life that oozed from Mani and his fellow droogs.

The Roses’ career may have been a beautiful mess but they were game changers and they were real. They crashed and burned and resurrected and left a thrilling legacy. Mani’s post Roses free transfer to Primal Scream was one of the greatest in rock n roll history and saw him dig into his own post punk roots to give Bobby G’s band a new dark twist in an audacious second act.

And yet despite all this, Mani always seemed surprised at the adulation and gobsmacked by the love. I hope he knew it was all genuine and not just for being part of something extraordinary but also for who he was – a genuine, warm human and a force of nature that filled a room with good times just by being there – the ultimate accolade for anyone.