Graded on a Curve: Marilyn Manson,
“Smells Like Children”

The other day I asked my girlfriend who I should write about. “Marilyn Manson,” she said, to which I replied “The only thing I know about Marilyn Manson is I saw him pull out his dick on stage at the old 9:30 Club in D.C. once.” “So write about that,” she said. So here goes.

Manson’s public cock-waggling and status as member in good standing of the androgynous undead community place him firmly in the Alice Cooper schlock rock tradition, which is to say they’re both big fans of P.T. Barnum and understand that what many teens want more than anything is to scare the bejesus out of their parents. Both are comedians whose fans are in on the joke, although both boast small idiot constituencies.

Only dolts took Cooper’s campy theatrical stage act as proof he was sick and obscene–if you weren’t laughing at that guillotine, it was most certainly laughing at you. Marilyn Manson’s shtick is more transgressive to be sure, but it’s still comedy; one need only check out the band’s 1995 EP “Smells Like Children,” which boasts song titles like “Shitty Chicken Gang Bang” and “May Cause Discoloration of the Urine or Feces.” These are not the products of the Anti-Christ, but of a goofy guy with a 7th grade sense of humor. School’s out indeed.

As for the music of Marilyn Manson, it’s your standard goth/industrial metal fare. Manson is a junior member of the law firm of Nine, Inch and Nails, but unlike the firm’s president Trent Reznor, he’s weirder, less doom-laden and flat-out sillier. Me, I’m not much on your earnest Trent types, who wear their agony like a cross and want you to know it. I may not be enamored of Manson’s music, but at least he’s trying–as my 2nd grade teacher once wrote on my report card–to be the class clown.

In so far as “Smells Like Children” comprises found sounds, originals, remixes, and covers, it’s a throwaway rather than your standard Marilyn Manson fare, but I like it better for that; industrial metal all sounds the same to my ears, and if there’s one thing “Smells Like Children” ain’t, it’s the same old same old. Derivative, yes: “Scabs, Guns and Peanut Butter” and “Shitty Chicken Gang Bang” are Mothers of Invention rips, while both “Fuck Frankie” and “May Cause Discoloration of the Urine or Feces”get the Butthole Surfers treatment.

If I were forced at gunpoint to listen to one or more or the songs on “Smells Like Children” again, I would choose the remix of “Everlasting Cocksucker” (it’s got naughty words and you can dance to it!), the barbaric re-imagining of “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” and the grinding “Diary of a Dope Fiend.” Also of interest: Manson’s cover of Patti Smith’s “Rock ‘N’ Roll Nigger,” which leads to the question of who’s the bigger idiot with racist tendencies, Smith for being utterly convinced that the use of the word increased her hip quotient, or Manson for knowing damn well the word is deeply offensive but using it for shock value anyway.

Fans will want to own “Smells Like Children” because they’re fans; everyone else should treat it as they would a radioactive frisbee. Manson is an entertaining novelty act, but unlike Alice Cooper, who didn’t let his mock macabre stage shtik stand in the way of producing some of the iconic songs of the early seventies, Manson won’t be remembered for his music. He’ll be remembered as a freak show act. And he won’t even top the bill; the likes of G.G. Allin and Anal Cunt have made sure of that.

On-stage dick waggling has become rather old-fashioned, like phone-booth cramming or the hula hoop. And Manson has become just another old fogey of the sort who shouts at kids to get off his lawn. Maybe one day soon he’ll join the snowbirds in Florida; he could certainly use some sun.

GRADED ON A CURVE:
D

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