It is officially over for Marilyn Manson. The chinks in the armor have been appearing since guitarist John 5 left the band, but now they are huge gaping holes. The invincible boogie man who proclaimed himself the god of fuck is gone, and a middle-aged Goth is left in his wake.
On paper, The High End of Low looked promising. Manson reunited with Twiggy Ramirez, his best collaborator and a key member of the original band. The return of Twiggy seemed like it would be the shot in the arm that Manson needed after the heavy handed melodrama of Eat Me, Drink Me, but Manson is even more maudlin on The High End of Low. Part of the problem is the genre itself. Shock rock has a very limited shelf life, because once the shock wears off it gets redundant. For a while, Manson seemed like he would be able to break that trend. The industrial darkness of Antichrist Superstar was completely different than the cartoonish horror of Portrait of an American Family, which was completely different from the paranoid glitter rock of Mechanical Animals.
Ever since 2000’s Holy Wood, Manson has backslid to the industrial hard rock of Antichrist with diminishing returns. High End is the least satisfying of Manson’s records. There is not a single memorable riff or bass line. No hooks. Each song bleeds in and out in a placid jumble of buzzing guitars and synthesizers. Manson’s voice was once distinctive and terrifying, and now it’s a parody of itself. He warbles in the same monotone, but occasionally lets out a guttural scream. The formula is repeated exactly 15 times, and it never changes. The key to Manson’s success was always the meticulous care he put into the art and storyline of a record. Now it’s like he doesn’t even care anymore.
The High End of Low deals with Manson’s broken heart. Despite hooking up with Evan Rachel Wood, he’s still trying to get over Dita Von Teese. The lyrics are even more dramatic than last time. Manson puts his heart on his sleeve with ridiculous imagery like a carousel with “four rusted horses strangled by their own rope.” Manson’s lyrics have always been outrageous, but the difference between this and an earlier song like “Cake and Sodomy” is that the early Manson was bulletproof. He was a throwback to the invincible rock hero of old, complete with gender bending. Without the confidence, it’s foolish.
When Manson isn’t moaning about his broken heart, he’s going out of his way to shock you. “Arma-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Geddon” is meant to be a throwback to the Manson of old, but it’s just a string of profanity and violent imagery. “Satanic girls gone wild/truly fucking suicidal” might have caused outrage in 1997, but it barely raises an eyebrow in 2009. The worst offender is “I Want to Kill You Like They Do in the Movies.” Clocking in at over nine minutes, Manson pulls every “shocking” image out of the hat: Murder, fucking, skin grafts, but it has no effect. It’s an Onion article that has come true.
Shock rock is all about character. When Brian Warner created Marilyn Manson in the early 1990s, he created the polar opposite of the nerdy music journalist he was. A decade later, he is injecting more of his own feelings into his music. This is fine, but now the Manson character is on the same level as his creator. Perhaps it’s time for Marilyn Manson to die, and for Brian Warner to emerge from the shadows, because a sensitive Marilyn Manson just doesn’t work.