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Marilyn Manson
When I was in sixth grade, there were few things more terrifying to me than Marilyn Manson. Imagine growing up in a Mormon household and all of a sudden a malnourished, demon-eyed hellspawn crawls into the mainstream with an album called Antichrist Superstar. And even though my family was moving away from religion at the time, the album still represented the terrifying aspects of hell and the devil that had been ingrained in my little head.
But like any good form of evil, the album also had a dark hold over me. Whenever my family went to CD stores, I’d sneak away to hold the vile thing in my hands and stare at the artwork with simultaneous attraction and repulsion.
When I finally listened to it (sneakily borrowed from a friend like contraband)—it sounded as evil as I thought it would.
But the years have dulled my sensibilities. I’ve embraced evil. And I’ve realized that Antichrist Superstar slaps. As a cohesive object of pop-art—everything from the packaging to the monstrous production by Trent Reznor—it’s nearly flawless. Additionally, once you get over the shock value, it’s easy to see the genuinely cool influences in it. I mean, hell, it almost sounds like a Big Black album.
Mr. Manson’s latest efforts aren’t anything to sneeze at either. If anything, he’s become more grimy with age. Just listen to 2015’s The Pale Emperor, which has his best song since the ‘90s, “Killing Strangers.”
Also, everyone’s favorite theatrical ghoul, Rob Zombie, is co-headlining. And if you haven’t crashed in the back of his “Dragula” lately, then you’re missing out big time.
Marilyn Manson and Rob Zombie play Aug. 24 at Mattress Firm Amphitheatre.
