ME & MARILYN & THE OTHER MM IN TWO PARTS
(Including intermission, and admittedly some light-whingeing.)
Fuck the keepers. Here's to those too self-destructive to care if they leave any imprint on you beyond a flash burn. A singe and seduction of your synapses and senses as transitory as it is dazzling.
So much obsession in these fanboy days of spoddery and filing with the artefact you can treasure, with only listening to those bands and artists with 'substance' you want to collate & keep. Keepers. Whatabout those you use up and discard, those who suit a particular paroxysm you were tangled up in at that precise time? Some of my favourite bands and artists are ones that I never listen to anymore. Never followed them, never called myself a fan, but they got under your skin at one point, gave you an unforgettable night, the illusion of belief again, even if only for a while. Marilyn Manson's one of those for a couple of reasons. Firstly, amazing live, always,…
Here be something I wrote way back during Halloween in the previous millenium. I interviewed Jennifer in the Columbia Hotel in London. She was the only guest I ever met staying there who LOOKED as rock'n'roll as the hotel's reputation. One of the few, true SUPERSTARS (i.e who exuded superstardom) I ever met, for which I will perhaps excuse her dodgy politics, until it can be confirmed to me exactly how dodgy they are.