For a long time, ‘Antichrist superstar’ Marilyn Manson has seemed more interested in being the ultimate threat to conservative America than in writing the sort of venomous goth(ish) metal that got him to where he was in the first place. While he kept busy with hairstyles and prosthetic breasts, Manson’s music suffered, becoming stagnant and irrelevant. But it seemed a sure bet that he’d keep going through the motions, which is partly why the new album stands out as much as it does. Gone are the shock value tactics and gothy contrivances, and in their wake are menacing rumbles that create a tone of real discomfort, with eerie subtleties and surprisingly original macabre imagery. There aren’t really any Beautiful People-type moments here, only a collection of songs that work surprisingly well as a kind of musical diary for a performer who, while not the threatening icon he once was, has become in a way almost kitsch.
Interscope
