MARILYN MANSON - Mechanical Animals

I'll be honest.  I'm not in the right headspace to review this album.  Currently, I'm yawning and listening to blackened death metal.  That could be misconstrued.  I'm not yawning because of the blackened death metal; no, my somnolence is merely a case of shopping mall fatigue.  And the metal is anything but sluggish.  I'm chartering my way through Liber Lvcifer II: Mahapralaya, the latest humdinger from Greek warlocks Thy Darkened Shade.  What does it have to do with Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animals?  Exactly my point!  Eh, maybe I'll surprise myself and reach a stunning revelation by the end of this review.  Or maybe, just maybe, I'll talk about music and proceed with my day as scheduled.

It has to be said that this is a ballsy record.  The last thing that fans and critics expected Manson to do was embrace glam rock, cut his hair (!), and embrace balladry.  But he did all of that stuff.  More importantly, he did it without "selling out," an enervated concept justifiably mocked by Animals itself.  Here again, the album clicks on multiple levels and here again, I'm leaving the postmortem analysis for the zealots.  Truthfully, the Omega/Alpha dual identity machinations give me a headache.  I'm here for it, but I'm also thankful that the music works as a stand-alone piece.  If you didn't know that we were equidistant to opposite ends of a trilogy, you wouldn't be lost in the fray.

As much as Animals is lauded for being a temperate maturation of Antichrist Superstar, it doesn't veer too far from established practice, at least sonically.  This is still industrial rock.  True, this long player is lighter in tone than its sibylline predecessor, but almost any follow-up would seem blithe and starry-eyed compared to that monster.  I maintain that the sound is familiar, especially on heavier cuts such as "Rock is Dead" and "Posthuman."  It could be said that Manson flirts with self-plagiarism on the former, but it's a fun song.  Pull your trousers out of your pink aperture and give him a pass.  The lyrics are sharp, even if the riffs are derivative.  All simple monkeys with alien babies indeed.

I have yet to express my enduring adoration for this record.  Well, "adoration" is a bit strong, but it's totally swell.  Animals features the band's tightest songwriting yet, and as for the lead singer, he proves that he can actually sing.  I was taken aback by the doleful crooning on "Fundamentally Loathsome."  In my estimation, he never did top the melodic, poignant poesy of "Coma White."  Or "The Speed of Pain," for that matter.  Yes, there are moments that ape Pink Floyd (to name but a single influence), but aside from the choir on "I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me)," nothing feels out of place.

Favorites?  I fancy the lugubrious "Disassociative," the well-stacked "Great Big White World," and of course, the aforementioned ballads.  Mechanical Animals benefits greatly from its sterile mix and monochromatic production choices.  Is it dated by its use of digital blips and techno loops?  Since I asked, yes, but how hypocritical would I be if I bashed something for being a product of the 90's?  The answer is very.  Hmm, I haven't reached a stunning revelation yet, unless...nope.  Wait!  No, nada.