MARILYN MANSON “Heaven Upside Down” review by Jordan Owen

My review of Marilyn Manson’s most recent album “Heaven Upside Down.” Transcript below

Heaven Upside Down Review
By Jordan Owen
(c)2017

Marilyn Manson’s storied career has withered countless accusations- that he had some causal role in the Columbine massacre, that he was given to acts of beastiality and pedophilia on stage, that he had two ribs removed to aid in autofellatio, that he really did get breast implants for the cover of Mechanical Animals and countless other claims that range from juvenile to deeply slanderous in their accusations. Perhaps the most enduring, however, is the music press’ shallow assertion that he’s a modern day Alice Cooper. Where Alice Cooper’s stage show and lyrical themes were the stuff of Saturday morning cartoons, Manson’s dark, gruesome theatrics weren’t meant simply to titillate- they were a theatre of the macabre meant to dramatize a harrowing musical and lyrical descent into a mind that found philosophical clarity in the outer reaches of insanity. Where Cooper sought to shock Manson sought to transform. Where Cooper entertained Manson performed psychodrama. The two could not be more dissimilar.

No, Manson could not be written off as my generation’s Alice Cooper. He’s our David Bowie and, in his better moments, our Oscar Wilde. Antichrist Superstar is one of the most important rock records in history and one that I still return to twenty years later, amazed that a concept album with such extraordinary lyrical depth and experimental cohesion could have debuted at #3 on Billboard. Like so many teenagers stuck in the tornado bait anus of the Bible Belt, Antichrist was a welcoming world that I could inhabit for 77:26- a darkened realm of sharp rusty edges and medical fetishism where I could mutate into a demonic ubermensch free of the lunacy of the herd. Antichrist was not merely a rehash of the decades old “awww fiddlesticks” teenage angst chronicled in “Summertime Blues” and it wasn’t the mulleted bravado of “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” No, this was something else entirely- this was a self-transformative psychodrama captured on a disc.

Throughout the late 90’s and early 2000’s the hits just kept on coming from Manson and it was because he knew how to upgrade his persona and his message. Not merely changing up his image every few years as we’ve come to expect from the likes of Madonna and Bono, Manson had built his persona on the teachings of Boyd Rice, borrowing from the latter’s practice of forcing listeners to acknowledge the uncomfortable similarities between the heroes and villains of American culture; the slobbering devotion showered upon fans of Marilyn Monroe is, ultimately, not that far removed from the depraved adoration of the Manson Family cult. It was a flexible persona with wide reaching, diverse implications and as such whatever new angle Brian Warner wanted give to his Marilyn Manson character felt natural and innovative. First came “Portrait of an American Family” where Marilyn Manson was a sadistic extension of Willy Wonka- whimsical on the surface but brooding with misanthropy and a human race too dull and conformist to understand or appreciate true genius. With “Antichrist Superstar” he was the pale, demonic spawn surfacing from the blackened depths of the summoning ritual that was American culture. With “Mechanical Animals” he was a vapid, plastic android diva designed to be devoured and forgotten in the Jerry Springer consumer culture of the late 90’s. Every album was another answer to the question “what does the name ‘Marilyn Manson’ mean?” and every time it worked. A new answer meant a new concept and that concept would form the intellectual, stylistic, and lyrical structure of the album- “Portrait” was a punkish blend of goth metal and carnival music. “Antichrist” was an industrial metal masterpiece with Nietzschean overtones. “Mechanical Animals” was a glittery slab of cynical sing-a-long glam rock that ranked alongside Ziggy Stardust and the Who’s Tommy for its ethereal, science fiction reimagining of celebrity culture. “Holywood” was a thundering condemnation of parental narcissism and childhood neglect. “The Golden Age of Grotesque” was a swing-jazz influenced journey into the BDSM satyricon of 1930’s vaudeville.

But after “Golden Age,” there was a change. Brian Warner stopped asking “what is Marilyn Manson” and no longer seemed to care. The music was solid but stilted. “Eat Me, Drink Me,” “The High End of Low,” and “Born Villain” all had moments of musical brilliance but they were diamonds in a very rough rough. The question was answered: Brian Warner had been around the block enough times to know what was expected of Marilyn Manson by the music industry, the press, and the audiences and he was giving it to them. Like so many fans I wanted to continue down the rabbit hole of Brian’s imagination but it seemed to end at Hot Topic. Hopes were revived, however, with the release of “The Pale Emperor.” It was the Manson we’d all wanted- he was back to the philosophical brooding that had drawn us to him in the first place but he’d also matured. As the title suggested, this was a Marilyn Manson who had embraced his newly aged-in role as one of hard rock’s elder statesman and the album was an understandable hit.

Strangely, however, that high-minded maturity didn’t carry over to the subsequent tour which instead banked on throwback nostalgia, even going so far as to dredge up the stained glass set pieces of the Antichrist Superstar era. As many critics noted, Manson seemed irritable and unfocused onstage, so much so that speculation ran through the music press as to the state of his mental and physical health. It seemed that Brian Warner was back to asking “what is Marilyn Manson” but now speaking from a place of career uncertainty rather than artistic clarity.

I bring all of this up because it’s necessary to give perspective on why I can’t recommend Manson’s latest offering, “Heaven Upside Down.” As with Manson’s recent live gigs, the word “unfocused” seems particularly salient to this record. Sonically, the music plays into some of the worst tendencies of Manson’s post-Golden Age output, sounding badly distorted like some drunk sound guy pushed all the sliders up to ten and ran the result through a slew of flanger and chorus pedals. The earlier records benefited from some of the best producers in the business, from Trent Reznor to Michael Beinhorn. The latter albums have had increasingly garbled, grating production value and, sadly, even the excellent “Pale Emperor,” which marked the beginning of Manson’s collaboration with Tyler Bates, suffered from this same set back.

“Heaven Upside Down” is the worst and most inexcusable example of this lo-fi production ethos, sounding like a live band being heard through a cement wall in the alley next to the venue. The result is a lopsided, bass heavy background bed that’s completely devoid of definition and personality. Earlier records were razor sharp and showcased the contributions of the individual musicians beautifully, especially the diverse array of guitarists that have collaborated with Manson through the years. “Portrait” and “Antichrist” both benefited from the six string stylings of the criminally under appreciated (and recently deceased) Scott Putesky whose utterly unique style was informed more by Andy Sommers and Mark Knopfler than by traditional heavy metal. Middle period albums showcased the stunning contributions of John 5, a consummate virtuoso to rival Steve Vai and Joe Satriani. Even “Eat Me, Drink Me” featured great glam rock pastiche from Tim Skold. No such precise definition is to be found in the imbalanced washing machine that is Heaven Upside Down’s instrumentation. Apparently percussion was provided by Gil Sharone of Dillinger Escape Plan but you’d never know it from listening.

Vocally, Manson’s totally on auto-pilot, phoning in one monotone rasp after another. In the past his brutal screaming worked because it was used to punctuate and accentuate melodies, not replace them. It’s a shame because the lyric sheets reveal that Manson’s as poetic as ever. The title track begins with “I can hear the scream of trumpets/Smell the ash and sulfur/Talons of battalions scratch at the sky/Like black feathers, scorpion eyes/I don’t attract what I want, I attract what I am/Dead as the bees buzzing inside my head/Hold my hand and spin around/This is heaven upside down.” Such lines are truly evocative and they deserve to be better underscored musically.

There’s some occasional high points in the instrumentation as well- the ballad “Blood Honey” does recall the gothic futurisms of Tiamat and the almost progressive epic “Saturnalia” clocks in at an impressive eight minutes. Even these moments, sadly, aren’t enough to overcome the dull, phoned-in feeling of the overall record. It’s a damn shame too- the surrealistic video for “KILL4ME” shows that Manson hasn’t lost it in the visuals department. If there’s ever going to be another Manson album on par with the classic first five then it’s going to have to be a near 180 turn and feature crystal clear production, soulful vocal melodies, and a return to the genre bending sonic hybridization that characterized those earlier efforts. But most of all, we need a new concept to really bite into. Surely there’s some haunting new angle to be found in the Marilyn Manson persona.

As for this new record, I can only retitle it “Thumbs Upside Down.”

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