The opening strains of “Disposable Teens” were, of course, delivered in full flora (or is that fauna?) and filigree. Costumed gloriously in leather and lace, straps and strings, with accompanying full Kabuki-esque make-up, Manson hammed it up as intensely as always, preaching and reaching to the already converted. Religiosity aside, Manson does play the role of insane preacher rather well, for he is a superb actor. It has become very easy, however, to grow tired of the same material after some time.
The last two Manson tours have all used similar imagery, seemingly pulled from the shelves of the filthy backroom that is Marilyn’s subconscious. Take, for example, his Pink Floydian political rally, replete with banners and podium, that was virtually lifted from the movie of “The Wall”, or the very cool stilt-legs on which he struts across the stage. It looks cool, but any big fans would have seen the same acts on his last two tours as well. Therefore, isn’t it time he comes up with some new, evil-looking, gruesome tricks for his paying devotees? Ticket prices alone leave one thinking that the audience deserves the best, brightest, newest, and shiniest/grimiest toys out there.
Smashed instruments, broken bodies, lots of hot music, and hot people made this a wild night for all present. To paraphrase an old maxim that used to refer to an altogether different band, there is nothing like a Marilyn Manson concert. That is, of course, if you have never seen him perform before. Mr. Manson, it’s time to be unique and change your persona once again, just like David Bowie did twenty-five years ago. And twenty-two years ago, and fifteen years ago, and five years ago, and…
Hammerstein Ballroom
(New York, NY)
review and photo by j bloomrosen
