The God Of Fuck, onstage in London.
Guitarist John 5
The Man That You Fear, live in London.
Review from "Kerrang!" magazine, February 3rd 2001 issue
Shock is dead?
The Man That You Fear plays it safe in London
Let's be charitable for a moment: a cavernous, resolutely atmosphere-free shed isn’t any sort of environment in which to create a favourable first impression. And if the sound is as bad as it is when Godhead open with ‘Inside You’ then you might as well give up and go get yourself a hot dog. The first signings to Marilyn Manson’s new vanity imprint Posthuman, the nu-goth quartet gamely belt out most of their ‘2000 Years Of Human Error’ album to little avail. ‘Eleanor Rigby’ raises a smile late on but they desperately need more tunes of the quality of ‘The Reckoning’. For Disturbed, any notions of charity go out the window as soon as ‘Mad’ Davey Draiman takes to the stage in his electric chair. Apparently this is intended as an arch piece of theatrical symbolism. Unfortunately, as acrid smoke billows from his head, it resembles nothing more than an unfortunate accident in a hairdresser’s. Quite how this band have got so popular so quickly is baffling. Their sound is generic in the extreme, each and every song limping lamely along to a monotonous low-end groove that’s not so much played out as plain dull. Even their cover of ‘Shout’ is worse than the original — now that is shocking! So it’s left to Marilyn Manson to salvage any sort of entertainment value from the evening —which is fortunate. If there’s one thing the old tart can provide in abundance, it’s entertainment. It’s certainly not controversy; aside from urging all and sundry to tell the Queen to "f**k off" (oooh, hark at her, etc) by way of an intro to ‘The Fight Song’, it’s all a bit tame. Not content with stealing David Bowie’s riffs, he’s now nicked his SS uniform. It also takes a lot more than singing ‘In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death’ in a bishop’s mitre while flanked by pictures of Jesus Christ and Charles Manson to provoke outrage in this day and age. No, rather like an old army gang show, Manson struts and preens his way through a near Vaudevillian combination of pantomime schlock horror and camp histrionics, in an effort to raise the morale of his assembled troops. You want bondage gear? You’ve got it. You want a podium decorated with a tasteful rifle and pistol motif? Coming right up — just as soon as we’ve got the hydraulic stilts out of the way. The problem is, however, that at this stage in Manson’s career we expect all this and then some. Despite five costume changes, a similar number of backdrops and the ludicrous stilt-wearing frippery, you’re still left feeling a little short-changed in the entertainment department. Okay, so it’s a class apart from watching, say Raging Speedhorn duke it out in an Essex fleapit, but this is Marilyn Manson. Shouldn’t he be decapitating babies or something? And certainly his pyro budget can stretch to more than a couple of glitter cannons, which were presumably obtained on the cheap, now that Gary no longer needs them. Could it be that Manson wants to let his music start doing the talking for a while? Following the release of last year’s tune-heavy ‘Holy Wood...’ album, he now has enough quality material to sustain a headlining set — something which hasn’t been the case in the past and which makes for a much more consistent experience. ‘The Love Song’, ‘Disposable Teens’ and ‘The Nobodies’ are all delivered with a head-spinning conviction, while the closing shots of ‘Beautiful People’ and ‘Antichrist Superstar’ are breathtakingly bombastic. A good night out, then, but it’s still a sad state of affairs when Manson comes to town and the only talking point is the quality of his music.
Review from UK newspaper "The Mirror", 26th January 2001
Some like it Goth
MARILYN'S DEVILISH GIG
SOUNDING like the evil pirate in a Disney movie, Marilyn Manson rounds on the crowd. How many of us have been waiting all our lives to tell someone to f*** off? he asks. Wisely perhaps, he does not wait for an answer. Instead the self-styled Antichrist of rock suggests that we use this once in a lifetime opportunity to direct the ultimate insult towards Her Majesty the Queen. Reeling from shock, I barely compose myself in time for the next target of mass abuse: All the teachers who said we were stupid. Merrily, I join in with that one. But like many of the 12,000 fans I am a little confused by number three - all the priests who told us we’d never go to heaven. "F*** off," I yell, even though no man of the cloth has ever informed me I am in God’s bad books. Hell, here I come! It's hard to tell whether Marilyn Manson - aka Brian Warner - seriously believes this is the stuff of youthful rebellion. Perhaps he thinks it will get him exposure as the outraged people of Britain explode in monarchist fury and pray for his very soul. It workds in America where Bible bashers picket his every show, claiming he corrupts his legion of young fans who buy his albums - like Antichrist Superstar and Holy Wood - in enormous numbers. Until now I confess I knew very little about the 31 year old from Ohio. Now I know one thing: Not many of his fans wear suits. In my pinstripes and college tie I really stood out from the London Arena crowd. All around me were people in extraordinary costumes - some gothic, some ghoulish and some sexually fetishistic. A lot of them looked liked internet babies mum Judith Kilshaw after one of her all night boozing sessions - and that was just the men. Throughout an energetic two hour set it was clear Marilyn is not the kind of performer who short changes his fans. They call his music "nu-metal" but it sounds pretty old to me. Pounding guitars, hammer horror keyboards and bam bam drums compete with Manson's creaky old hag like voice - which bares an uncanny resemblence to Mr Punch's wife Judy. Nevertheless, I enjoyed several of the songs as they boomed around us in a stunning wall of sound. On stage Marilyn staggered around in a leather bodice, feathered shoulders and - for several numbers - on huge stilts. If it all goes wrong for this guy he's got a golden future in the circus. And, in the end, it was simply good unclean fun. In fact when, during "Valentine's Day", Marilyn donned a bishops mitre and indulged in mock praying it was time for outright laughter. No kidding, he's a funny guy. He's also highly intelligent. When the US moral majority claimed Manson's music influenced the Columbine massacre the singer's eloquent letter to Rolling Stone magazine silenced the moronic inferno. His fans seem a very nice bunch too. The gang near me were eager to help - telling me the names of their hero's songs and keen to know what I thought. Well, while the music was a bit sub-Def Leppard, the whole event was great fun. And my 11,999 fellow fans agree.
