Marilyn Manson
National Car Rental Center, Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. (March 30, 1999)
»
|
Marilyn Manson
National Car Rental Center, Ft. Lauderdale, Fla.
March 30, 1999 |
Oddly, Manson's music sounded as good as it ever has in a live setting. The stage effects, lights, costumes: everything was elaborate -- truly a spectacle. But no one in the audience, not even those in the front trenches, seemed to care much. Moshing was at a minimum until the final song "The Beautiful People" spurred some moderate action on the open floor.
Of course from a skybox seat, it's hard to see anything too clearly. Unless you have binoculars. Borrowing a neighbor's pair, I scoped the action as Manson dug into the heart of his set. To my surprise I spied the "antichrist's" fiancee, actress Rose McGowan, dancing on the side of the stage. Her ample chest filled the binoculars easily and held their attention too. But there was a show going on and Manson was the spectacle, I reminded the binoculars.
The thin, tall spawn of hell stalked to the front left of the stage facing a section above the mosh pit. He spent most of the show on that side of the stage and I couldn't figure out why. I snagged the binoculars and zoomed in on the front row of that section. A slew of gorgeous young women seemed to be drawing the binoculars' (and Manson's) attention.
But what is the shock in oogling at pretty women? Manson tried his best with his home crowd. South Florida has never been kind to Manson. Of course he's publicly dissed the entire local scene and its fans in countless interviews over the years. Contrary to his views on the scene, Manson invited local band Jack Off Jill to open the show before Monster Magnet. This same band played and headlined countless local gigs with Manson long before Trent Reznor stumbled on the demon-in-training. And now Jack Off Jill got to open to a half-empty arena. What a treat.
Monster Magnet shocked few as well, except for those like myself who actually liked their latest album. Instead ofthe catchy metal tracks on Powertrip, the group played horrendously loud, ear-splitting anthems that were hard to comprehend and even harder to enjoy. Watching the lead singer thrust his groin in all directions, scream "Yeah!" over and over and finally bring out a pair of strippers to accent "Spacelord," I was ready for a cold beer to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.
Unfortunately the arena wasn't serving beer because of all the young, impressionable patrons at the concert. Which makes sense, because during Florida Panthers games (in the same arena) they sell beer for sold out crowds of 18,000 and there are young children in attendance at every game. I guess Manson is still more of a threat than a hockey puck to the noggin.
So a lingering taste, slightly distilled by some bottled water, remained in my mouth when Mr. Antichrist came on stage in a see-through mesh outfit, with only a thong hiding his package from prying onlookers. The binoculars noticed the outfit, but quickly zoomed around to see the giant cross made of television sets. The cross was actually pretty cool, but the symbolism was tired and didn't manage to shock anyone.
What might have shocked some in the crowd who had seen Manson before was how good the music sounded, especially the new glam and pop-tinged numbers. "I Don't Like The Drugs, But the Drugs Like Me," is the best pro-drug song in a long time. Adding a Las Vegas-style sign reading "DRUGS" was a nice touch, and the sign's sheer size was impressive if not shocking - much more impressive than the rendition of "Dopeshow," which also had a head-bobbing effect.
Manson also played old favorites that rocked heavily and left little doubt that he could still kick some ass. "Get Your Gun," "Lunchbox" and "Cake and Sodomy," all from Portrait Of An American Family, were highlights. Material from Antichrist Superstar sounded uninspired and ranked low on the shock-o-meter. Even Manson's portrayal of a dictator on a puppet string was weak.
And at that point it seemed he was just going through the motions before he could get backstage to Rose and a nice mound of cocaine.
DAVID THOMAS |