There are many perceptions of Marilyn
Manson. The most common, in no special order, are that he’s a baby eater, a Satan worshiper, and a
diligent iconoclast. But he’s also a polished raconteur, as he proved at the 1997 CMJ music talkfest in
New York City this September. In case you’ve been locked in a wardrobe for the past year or so,
Manson’s CD, AntiChrist Superstar, returned self-mutilation to the charts. Since then, he and his unholy
posse have crisscrossed the globe, poisoning minds and committing acts of demonic madness -- or so
various right-wingers would have us believe. In the process, Manson has caught more headlines than a
megalomaniacal politician could ever dream of. Upholders of moral values have run him and his graveyard
crew out of town, parents have done everything bar tying their kids up to prevent them from being
exposed to his evil ways, yet his album and tickets keep on selling. Yep, it must be the work of the devil.
But why was Manson here at CMJ, a music biz get-together: isn’t it a classic case of preaching to the
perverted? Well, I guess that the lanky Manson is no fool. He realizes the power of the media. He knows
there’s no better way to spread the word that he is more than a hellish Halloween rock act than to chat
up several hundred music biz types in the one afternoon. And, admittedly, he did it well, capably fielding
questions that ranged from the likelihood of an assassination attempt (he finds this “thrilling”) to fashion
tips. Speaking of which, the chatty Manson cut a dapper, deathly figure, relying on your basic blacks and
reds, obligatory shades obscuring much of his deathmask face. His dress sense aside, the strongest
message to emerge from Manson’s half-hour standup routine -- apart from the fact he should host a talk
show -- was that his patience with his critics is truly wearing thin. It wouldn’t take a degree in psychiatry
to work out that the relentless assault on everything Marilyn Manson -- typically initiated by social
do-gooders, religious lynch mobs and political movers and shakers -- has left its scars. “I haven’t burnt
down churches, cut off my genitals or kicked nuns in the kneecaps,” he informed the gathering, his anger
more obvious than the fact he could use some sun. “Those urban myths about me simply contain varying
degrees of nonsense. For instance, no, I was not Winnie Cooper on The Wonder Years.” (He said this, I
swear.) “Anyway, the purpose of all those rumors was to undermine me,” Manson explained, somewhat
unnecessarily. “It made me wonder whatever happened to ‘love thy neighbor,’ or ‘judge and ye shall be
judged.’ See, what my critics don’t realize is that I have found God, but I’ve found him in a different
way.” As Marilyn continued to sift legend from fact, he disclosed there is some element of truth in the
mutterings, unlike, say, Richard Gere’s reputed interest in gerbils, or the strange story about the contents
of Rod Stewart’s stomach. (Don’t ask.) “Everyone’s heard the stories of sex on stage,” Manson stated.
“And yes, there were a couple of instances and it’s not to say I won't do it again. But, hey, I’m an
entertainer -- and I hate virgins. I strongly believe that if you haven’t been fucked, don’t talk to me.” At
this point the crowd started to fall about. Yes, Marilyn Manson has a sense of humor. But what has made
Manson the space oddity he is? In no particular order, he holds the following beliefs and/or institutions
responsible for the mess that is American society (of which Manson is the hellish end result): 1. Organized
religion (no argument there) 2. Television (even though MTV plays his clips to death) 3. Advertising (of
which he is a master). “Just different elements of underlying fascism,” he drawled. “We’re all monkeys in
this world. When we try to get beyond that we just hurt each other.” Manson also discussed his original
motivation for becoming a rock’n’roll agent of evil. Don’t blame bat-biter Ozzie Osbourne, despite
Manson’s recent cameos on the Ozzfest tour. (Manson: “I admire Black Sabbath for creating heavy
metal, but their audience were drunk white guys wanting to beat me up for wearing pantyhose.”) And no,
it wasn’t because of a mysterious Satanic symbol that appeared on his bedpost late one night. In reality,
the big motivator for Manson becoming the Freddy Krueger of rock’n’roll was seriously notorious
rappers 2 Live Crew. Manson confessed, “They were my biggest influence to start up a band. But as a
skinny white kid from Florida, I’ve gotten away with a lot more than they ever could.” (In case you’ve
forgotten, 2 Live Crew were banned from coast to coast; while music lovers rejoiced, anti-censorship
advocates had their gravest doubts confirmed: repression truly does rule if you let it.) Another curious
revelation from his CMJ chat was that peculiarity runs deep in the Manson clan. His father went as far as
to dress up, Kiss-style, at the first concert he and young Marilyn attended, “and I’ve turned out all right,”
Manson deadpanned. “Parents should let their kids go to my concerts,” he continued, “then they can
come home and ask serious questions about sexuality and violence.” These are two issues which, to
Marilyn, are “what’s great and what’s destructive in America right now.” “The end of the world is all we
have to look forward to -- I’m just pushing the fast-forward button and letting you enjoy the ride,” he
surmised, before departing for a date at the MTV awards with the Spice Girls. So what did all these
Manson musings prove? Well, regardless of whether you dismiss Marilyn Manson as a third-rate
shock-rocker, a bored middle-class 20-something out.
