MANI
The band had the songs, the crowd had the hype, but Mani had the magic that helped turn The Stone Roses from a great band into a truly timeless one. Joining in 1987, he didn’t just play bass, he made the songs walk. His lines rolled, swayed, and occasionally strutted, giving tracks like She Bangs the Drums, Fools Gold, and I Am the Resurrection that unmistakable groove that feels less like music and more like a natural law.
He was never about flashy showboating. Mani’s magic lived lower down, somewhere between the hips and the heart. His basslines didn’t shout for attention, but once they were there, good luck imagining the song without them. They were melodic, funky, and always perfectly placed, like he’d arrived early, put the kettle on, and sorted the groove before anyone else showed up.
Live, Mani was the anchor. While things around him could occasionally drift into “creative looseness,” he stayed locked in, calmly holding everything together with the expression of someone who knew exactly what he was doing and didn’t feel the need to mention it. If the Roses ever threatened to float off, Mani’s bass was the thing tying them back to earth.
In November 2025, Mani passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of 63 after a long battle with respiratory issues linked to emphysema , a condition he’d managed with the same quiet determination he brought to his music.
Manchester gave him a proper send-off. On 22 December 2025, hundreds gathered at Manchester Cathedral for his funeral, where music legends, old bandmates, and football stars shared stories, laughter, and a few tears. Mani’s coffin was decked out with the iconic artwork from The Stone Roses’ debut album, a tribute that somehow felt very him (and yes, someone surely joked that even in repose he looked cooler than most of us ever will).
Friends like Ian Brown remembered him as “a brother” and “the life and soul of any room he was in,” while Bobby Gillespie, never one to miss an opportunity for a cheeky line insisted “Mani’s not dead, he’s just gone,” adding that Mani’s knack for cutting through pretension would be sorely missed. Even Liam Gallagher, perhaps the only man with sunnies sturdy enough for a cathedral service,helped carry the coffin, proving that Mani’s friends could unite for anything except compromising on shades. T’Mills Clint Boon rocked a pair of sunglasses so spectacular they looked like they’d been forged in a Mancunian lightning storm, reflecting the entire congregation back at them and making the cathedral chandeliers feel underdressed.”
Fans lined the streets of Manchester and Heaton Moor. The cortege arrived at the cathedral, led by an honour guard of scooter riders, to The Stone Roses track I Wanna Be Adored. He was carried out of the church by his Stone Roses and Primal Scream bandmates, as well as long-time friend Liam Gallagher, as the Stone Roses anthem Made Of Stone was played affectionate nod to a man whose basslines made millions of people feel adored too.
I was lucky enough to call Gaz a mate and if I had to pick a memory… well, it’s a classic.
Back in ’89, our band was stumbling through Sugar Spun Sister when Gary, of course, was heckling from the crowd: “Yer playin’ it in the wrong f@"?en key!” …followed by that laugh (Good times, proper good times.)
The last time I had a natter with him, we were chatting about the site, he never got to see it, sadly, but his advice, banter, and encouragement will always be treasured. And, as always with Gaz, there was a twinkle in his eye that said, “Keep it real, pal.”
Mani’s legacy lives on not just in the grooves he laid down, but in the joy, camaraderie, and unstoppable swagger he brought to everything he touched. A proper Manc, he made life look effortless, mateship mandatory, and style non-negotiable. Rest in peace, Mani—thanks for the tunes, the laughs, and for showing us how it’s done.