For me, his bassline was the rhythm of my youth.
It was there in the late nights and the long drives,
from Blackpool in ’89 right through to the reunion gigs years later.
Those basslines didn’t just sit beneath the songs —
they carried them, held them steady, gave them swagger and soul.
Mani played with feel.
With joy.
With an instinct that made you move without even realising why.
His sound wasn’t about showing off —
it was about belonging, about groove, about connection.
And for so many of us, it became the soundtrack to who we were becoming.
To his family and loved ones:
thank you for sharing him with the world.
Thank you for the music, the memories, and the moments that will never fade.
Please know how deeply he mattered — not just as a musician,
but as a presence in the lives of people who may never have met him,
yet felt they knew him through the music.
Rest easy, Mani.
Your rhythm lives on — in the songs, in the crowds,
and in all of us who grew up with your sound in our hearts.
Jane Forster Hicks
21/12/2025
