I feel old. I mean, I feel my thirty-eight years of existence in the fissures of my bones every day, but I feel especially old writing this review. This generation, man...does this generation have rock stars? I'm not embellishing when I assert that my generation may have been the last to engage in apotheosis, to deify and venerate musicians to inappropriate levels of reverence. In the hard rock genre. See, that's an important identifier to add. "Kids" love rappers and social media influencers, but the true rock star went the way of VHS. In my estimation, Marilyn Manson was the last troubadour from our side of the tracks to rebel and push against the grain of popular culture.
There are several reasons why 1996's Antichrist Superstar is letter-perfect. It was his breakout album, but conceptually, it focuses on the kind of rock star I opened by talking about. If you're a fan, I'm not turning you onto anything. You already know that this record operates on multiple levels. On the surface, it's a selection of mucky, begrimed industrial rock strains that kiss the periphery of heavy metal. And make no mistake. These are not songs; they are strains. There is a palpable pain that gurgles underneath all sixteen tracks. Manson has a way of making his mole hills into grandiose, near-histrionic mountains. It doesn't come off as melodramatic, though. This muck, this grime...it's genuine.
On a deeper level, Antichrist Superstar ropes in everything from astrology to numerology. I'll leave that kind of dissection to the zealots (suddenly, "Mister Superstar" springs to mind). Shall I jump to the actual tunes? "Irresponsible Hate Anthem" is an aural blister abrasive enough to mummify any and all soccer moms. I still remember hearing "The Beautiful People" on the radio for the first time. I didn't love it or hate it; my head simply bobbed along to Zim Zum's swing riff. Nowadays, I recognize it as a dactylic chunk of Reznor-tinted songcraft.
I haven't mentioned Trent, but for what it's worth, the production is faultless. Supposedly, the two bullheads clashed in the studio, but you honestly can't tell. "Tourniquet" is an exquisite mid-paced 90's rocker. "Cryptorchid" is unnerving (yes, the Begotten-themed video is brilliant). "Angel With the Scabbed Wings" sports a riff so heavy, that when I referenced a thesaurus to find the right word for it, I was told by the spirit of Peter Mark Roget to go fuck myself. "Minute of Decay" is plaintive, balancing out the record's chaos with a tad of pathos. Actually, there is plenty of pathos, starting with the wistfully tragic "Man That You Fear."
I don't have much else to say. No, really. Antichrist Superstar is just a great slab of music. In fact, it's so great, that even the session leftovers hold merit. Listen to "Apple of Sodom" or "The Suck for Your Solution." This will always be the zenith of Mr. Manson's accomplishments, and someone needs to tell him that.
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