The 30th anniversary of The Stone Roses’ debut album is a milestone that continues to resonate with music lovers worldwide. When the album first dropped in the late 1980s, the band was still an enigma to many, including their peers.
At that time, I was interviewing The Pixies for my radio show in Manchester. Frank Black and Kim Deal had just toured the city’s record shops, curious about the sales of their top ten album Doolittle. They asked me, “Who is this band, The Stone Roses?”
The answer was clear everywhere: The Stone Roses were a phenomenon. Their debut album, released alongside The Cure’s Disintegration and Simple Minds’ The Street Fighting Years, outsold both by three to one in Manchester alone.
It was no small feat for a band who had spent years on the fringes, barely acknowledged and often scorned. The Stone Roses were the ultimate Manchester band, capturing the city’s “everybody hates us and we don’t care” attitude that set them apart from the overnight successes of The Smiths, Joy Division, and the Buzzcocks.
“Nobody helped The Stone Roses and they barely helped themselves,” yet they were the band every Mancunian had been waiting for. Front man Ian Brown was a genuine rock star — not just in image but in spirit.
Manchester’s identity as a city of immigrants and moral looseness created a unique environment where loyalty to your own mattered more than inherited status. Manchester bands had a rich history of chart domination, but the late 1980s scene was a new kind of rebellion. As factories closed under Thatcher’s policies, punk and independent labels like Factory, New Hormones, and Rabid blossomed.
The Stone Roses were outsiders even within this vibrant scene. They were blackballed by the media and struggled to get gigs. To make matters worse, they sprayed graffiti with their name around the city, pushing them further to the margins.
Their debut single failed to capture their live power, and their second single, Sally Cinnamon, came almost two years later. Many bands would have given up, but the Stone Roses refused to disappear. “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro,” and this band’s determination was unshakable.
They became the resident band at the International 2 and built a devoted following through word of mouth and their relentless live shows. By the time Made Of Stone came out, it was clear they had left the rest behind.
Their arrogance and swagger made them relatable to a generation of youth who, like the band, believed they deserved better. Yet, despite their fierce ambition, The Stone Roses remained permanent outsiders. No John Peel sessions, no love from the press.
By the time Tony Wilson discovered them, it was too late for Factory Records to sign them. Instead, Wilson labeled the scene “Madchester,” a term that would come to define the era — though, to many, it was an overblown tag for a diverse and thriving music culture.
Madchester became associated mainly with white indie bands who crossed over into dance music and the Hacienda club scene. This left out black artists and hip hop acts from Moss Side, such as The Ruthless Rap Assassins and MC Buzz B, whose music was arguably as central to the city’s sound.
Despite all this, it was The Stone Roses who bestrode the scene like a colossus. Every gig was an event; every interview a provocation. They had been scorned for years but emerged as the defining voice of Manchester youth.
Their debut album gave the city an anthem and a statement of identity. Songs like This Is The One and Waterfall became timeless, heard in stadiums and on television worldwide. Decades later, kids still know their name. It’s a testament to the band who changed everything.
This is Manchester. We do what we want.
