Manson’s more show than hell

David Renzi

Thursday, Jan. 30, 1997 | 11:59 a.m.

The creature known as Marilyn Manson played the first of two sellout shows at the Hard Rock Wednesday night, and his screaming worship of everything blasphemous would be disturbing if it wasn't so laughable.

The alleged product of Bible-thumping parents, whose ceaseless pontificating reportedly set him on the path to devil worship, Manson is the high priest of hate to disaffected youth everywhere.

His mission: Destroy Christianity and America through his music. A lofty pursuit, to be sure. Perhaps he would do better to stick to what he destroys best, namely melody, harmony and eardrums.

See, Manson is less a musician than a performance artist, and less that than a marketing expert. He knows what to sell and to whom, and the result is a large fan base -- 1,400 turned up for his performance at The Joint and will again tonight -- and a record contract on Trent Reznor's Nothing label. (Manson is touring in support of his third album, "Antichrist Superstar.")

Indecipherable

That said, it is probably pointless to dissect and examine his music (har har). Pointless, because you don't go to hear a person called Marilyn Manson -- the name is a fusion of Marilyn Monroe and Charles Manson -- and expect Pavarotti.

If you want a general idea of Manson's vocal stylings, imagine the cry of a man having a vasectomy without anesthesia. Think dental drill in a deep cavity. Fathom being flayed alive while watching Lucy reruns, or being forced to spend the rest of your life listening to Rosie Perez.

That's right. You'd be screaming, too. The irony is, that for all the bluster about the controversial content of the material -- parental advisory stickers are affixed to his albums -- I'll be darned if you can understand a word. Manson doesn't sing so much as sustain a banshee howl that obliterates any semblance of enunciation.

That, coupled with the fact that his band plays at essentially one volume (loud) and one tempo (fast), and there is little to distinguish one song from the next.

A visionary

"Beautiful People," his most popular song, is purportedly Manson's statement on the fascism of beauty -- that if you don't fit into the status quo as dictated by television, you're made to feel inferior. Gee, Marilyn, seen yourself in the mirror lately? Let us praise him for advancing that tired theory to yet another generation.

Again, you don't go to Marilyn Manson for rich vocal textures or heady dogma. You go for spectacle, for the opportunity to see a man drape himself in the American flag and chant, "We hate love, we love hate."

To witness a person in little more than a G-string and a jockstrap dry-hump the air. To watch him tear pages from the Bible and toss the sacred book into the throng, all the while whipping his legions into a frenzy like a heavy-metal Hitler.

To know what it would look like if someone put makeup all over his face without a mirror, then sat in a steam room for a while.

Welcome to his nightmare.