Darkness descended upon the South Okanagan Events Centre and it was wicked in the best possible way.
A full two decades removed from the height of his chart-topping early work, the energy of Marilyn Manson’s fan base has wavered little, if at all. Make up, face paint, mohawks, face tattoos, black leather and chains were in abundance, and the dark energy was nearly palpable.
I wasn’t old enough to attend a Manson show in his prime, but I would imagine the crowd wouldn’t look much different, minus the few leather-clad 10 year olds I saw who came with their parents. Lucky kids.
I assume the performance has been scaled back from its glory days with Manson hitting 46 years old. Age notwithstanding, the man is a performer. The lights dropped and the dry ice fog didn’t just fill the stage, it nearly filled the stadium. The bass drum hit, and from there it was two and a half hours of non-stop intensity.
Few names in music are as synonymous with a specific imagery as Manson’s, and we’ve all probably heard a rumour or two about what his shows were like in his heyday. The hype surrounding the name might have oversold the amount of actual theatrics in store, it was more of a stand-and-play rock show than what I was expecting, however Manson himself acted as the x-factor.
Donning trademark leather trench coats and the odd military hat, Manson produced a stirring energy on stage. Throwing himself on top of his monitors and rolling around on the floor, putting his bandmates in chokeholds and coming off stage to wander through the crowd, the man knows how put on a show. I can’t speak to what it was like on the floor, although I did have a nice bird’s eye view of the back-and-forth swaying of the mosh pit. I’d assume for those who have the energy, that’s where the real magic of a show like this is found.
The Hell Not Hallelujah tour follows the release of Manson’s latest album The Pale Emperor, and the new tracks are good, energetic and fresh, but even Manson knew why much of the crowd was there. “Who here likes the old (expletive)?” Manson asked to a predictable roar from the excitable crowd. He asked again, same roar. “Well here’s some new (expletive),” he quickly quipped before launching into a old headbanger.
There was a healthy mix of new and old, and what is probably a contractual obligation at this point to play Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These). There was also a notably powerful and bass-pumping version of Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus with a twist of Manson’s signature droll voice.
Sometimes in music, a certain person or band hits the right feeling for the right time in the right place. Manson clearly struck a chord with the bizarre, the weird and the non-conformists 20 years ago. So much so that his presence still brings with it an aura of darkness with fans to this day coming out of the woodwork dressed in as much black as they can muster. Hell, definitely not hallelujah.
Dale Boyd is a reporter with the Penticton Western News.
