Unforgiven

by Brian Hickey

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

It hasn't been all that long since my last confession, but something's come up that we must discuss. On Sunday, the Lord's Day, I didn't quite have time to make it to Mass.

What was that? Oh, sorry, you'll have to forgive me. I'm still having a little trouble hearing. No, I went to the Tower Theater for an evening with Marilyn Manson instead.

How was it? Well, "interesting" comes to mind. So does "eye-opening" (particularly since I had to open them all the wider to optically sift through the smoke-machine output and seizure-inducing lights).

I mean, I know I shouldn't judge others like I did when the leather-clad gal in the next row asked, "Do you think that woman in the Lycra looked at herself in the mirror before she left the house? I mean, c'mon, maybe she could wear that if she had a nice ass or something."

I take full responsibility for my reaction since we're all God's children, regardless of what the dude with a T-shirt equating the cross to a swastika would have you believe. As an aside, though, is it sinful to not wear leather to such an event? If so, please explain how the dude sporting the straitjacket and white face paint will find his salvation. And furthermore, where does he go in the morning when Manson's long gone? A 9-to-5 broker's gig?

Without touching on the impure thoughts that accompany stockinged women writhing on stage clad in tight, flesh-toned tank tops and getting spanked for doing their job, or those in the audience who more-or-less groped themselves in the aisles, I must say this: Manson puts on a damn good show.

OK, maybe it was a tad too short (Got out of there well before the witching hour.). And perhaps it was a bit disturbing (in a good way) to see him in full Mickey Mouse regalia, lyrically preaching from atop a morbid altar. But the fact remains that, despite the hysterical hand wringing that's always surrounded Manson, he connects with the crowd. (Read: His detractors ought to shut their mouths and listen.)

Despite the deafening decibel level, it was easy to hear him glide from screaming to whispering without missing a syllable, engaging his adoring audience each step of the way.

Yes, he knows how to push buttons. I.e. Hit in the head with a bottle halfway in, he stopped the show and invited the anonymous tosser on stage to "get [his] ass kicked by a man in lipstick." Then, there was some talk about sodomy involving a microphone and, well, Father, I just can't tell you the rest. Of course, when nobody came forward, Manson threatened to end the show, thereby turning 3,000 people loose on one of their own.

The music? Well, he played obligatory hits ("The Dope Show" and "The Beautiful People," which the band closed with) but Manson's rendition of Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" actually made '80s music listenable, if only for a few minutes.

So, Padre, how many Our Fathers will that be?

MARILYN MANSON

Oct. 26,

Tower Theater