Marilyn Manson
Mechanical Animals

THE REVIEW

First review. And the first lines I should dedicate to the usual clichés about the character Marilyn Manson. But I'll spare myself, and you, them. I'm reviewing the album, not the makeup or the buttocks of Brian Warner.

The third (fourth if you include the EP "Smells Like Children") is undoubtedly a work that surprises both fans and detractors of Mr. Manson. From the industrial and angry atmospheres of "Antichrist Superstar," we move to a sort of crossroads between glam and electronics. A courageous choice by the Reverend, who could easily have churned out an AS-bis and pleased everyone while basking in the musical label bestowed upon him by the previous album.
Instead, there are really fitting melodies (Great Big White World, Speed Of Pain, and Coma White above all), dance floor tracks (Posthuman, New Model No.15), and straightforward but simply honest tracks (Rock is Dead, The Dope Show, I Don't Like the Drugs...). An album that winks at David Bowie and Manson himself. Yes, the Manson trademark is indeed felt but with different nuances. And personally, I judge these nuances to be absolutely well-executed, in the right place and at the right time (see (hear!) Fundamentally Loathsome).

You can say anything about the album and the artist, but you cannot deny the courage. And courage is a fundamental ingredient of art. Especially when your putative father, Trent Reznor, repudiates you and you have to churn out the album of your definitive consecration.
"Mechanical Animals" may not be a masterpiece or a milestone of rock, but it is a work that deserves respect. Because if the booklet had said John Doe, the judgment of many would have been different.