A divine comedy from satanic Marilyn Manson

By Sean Collins

It ain't easy bein' evil, and Marilyn Manson knows it. Lifted from shock-rock obscurity on nine inch nails' downward spiral tour, the band's lead singer and eponym became a chart-topping. Rolling Stone cover boy and the idol of quasi-goth teenagers everywhere. He seized the opportunity afforded by his newfound fame to wage a one-man crusade against Amerikka's Wal-Mart morality.

But a funny thing happened on the way to superstardom: Manson lost his sense of humor. The landmark Antichrist Superstar overflowed with satanic majesty but lacked the cheeky, horror-camp sensibility of his previous efforts. On Portrait of an American Family and Smells Like Children, Manson was a demented children's show host--a cross between Willy Wonka and William S. Burroughs--laughing his way to the apocalypse. But face it, kiddies: you've got to take yourself pretty damn seriously to call yourself Antichrist Superstar.

So thank Christ that Manson's new album, Mechanical Animals, both kicks your ass and tickles your funnybone. Music's premier pop-culture vulture has assembled a scathing satire of this bizarre moment in history--when Presidential pole-munching is front page news and Courtney Love is all but the new fifth Spice Girl. Fittingly, humor is Manson's best weapon.

Showing the same comic subversiveness found in his delightfully twisted cover of the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams," Manson references all manner of pop music icons. "The Speed of Pain" sounds like Dark Side-era Pink Floyd, complete with "ahhh"ing female back-up singers. In "New Model No. 15," over a riff that's straight outta "My Sharona," Manson sings, "I'm as fake as a wedding cake/ ...I'm the new, I'm the new, new model/ I've got nothing inside," playfully beating his critics to the punch. Turning his attention to more recent British imports, Manson laces the head-banging "Posthuman" with a familiar sample from the Prodigy's "Firestarter": "Hey! Hey! Hey!"

There's more to Manson than clever allusions. Musicians Twiggy Ramirez and Madonna Wayne Gacy have come a long way. The title track is a richly textured, ploddingly powerful anthem of shattered expectations. At the opposite end of the spectrum is "User Friendly," a slinky synth-bass song whose chorus, "I'm not in love, but I'm gonna fuck you/ 'Til somebody better comes along," wins Best Couplet of the Year, hands down.

The fanfuckingtastic "I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me)" is the true standout. Hell, the title alone makes it memorable. The bastard child of Bowie's "Fame" and Joan Jett's "I Love Rock n' Roll," it's an unholy mix of sleaze-funk and pop-punk. The lyrics are a brutally funny send-up of Manson's nemesis, TV talk shows: "We're rehabbed and we're ready/ For our 15 minutes of shame." And the hand-clapping, foot-stomping, religious-revival-gone-wrong ending must be heard to be believed.

Detractors write Manson off as an elaborate fraud--a Cliff's Notes Bowie, a poor man's Ministry. Don't believe the hype. As Manson put it, "I am your shit--you should be ashamed of what you have eaten." He has a genius for absorbing America's trashiness, hypocrisy, and fundamental absurdity, and then spitting it back in the country's face. His album is the frighteningly funny end-product of a nation full of drugs, guns, and Jerry Springer. And Manson knows that the truth, ugly as it is, comes out in jest. (nothing/Interscope)

Back to A&E...