Bad Adventures chapter three - the (New) Nightclub 9:30, Washington DC, 11/6/96.

(For those of you visiting this page from outside my usual family, "Planetcom" or P'com is me plus my two roomies, Liz/EVB and Judy/coyote. Their web pages are linked to mine if you'd like to meet them later, OK?)
What a goddamned gorgeous night. Best show of this set, one of the best shows ever. Even the weather accommodated us, unseasonably warm for November; we stood on line in our t-shirts, cracking up over how unlike last year's freeze it all was. dfx and friend, who'd slept over at Hotel Planetcom, were back at work, and spooky family abounded. (Clan this time included us three of course, plus wake, Klyph, Sharptooth and Tumbleweed from the list, and longtime Manson sister Carrie from Philly. Local pals Andy and Belle as well.)

The good stuff started early. Some of you already know the saga of the little sculpture of Mr. Manson that Judy/coyote created last year and presented to the Rev in Detroit. Some of you may also know that she promised to do one of Twiggy as well. What you don't know is that Twig has given no one a moment's peace about it since being assured he had her promise, almost a year ago.. =) He asked EVB about it when she visited the guitarist auditions in New Orleans; he asked Carrie about it every chance he got; you could say he was looking forward to it. Well, tonight coyote had it with her. (Pic of it up on the Web at coyote's homepage now - it's super cute. Bounce-off-toes pose, green dress, head cocked sideways, classic smeary makeup, dozens of lovingly hand-rolled teeny li'l dreads. And Judy had studied photos to meticulously recreate Twig's favorite white bass, now sadly just a memory [smashed to flinders in, I believe, Cincinnati.])-- We'd shown it to Carrie last night at Hammerjacks to make sure word got back to Twig that it was here for the claiming... well-ll...

...there we were waiting in line when coyote sez "hey, that's Zim Zum," --no one had recognized him --and suddenly a voice over her shoulder said "Hi, you guys," and oh my gosh. Twiggy, sure enough, beaming at us, in a wool coat and that lank brown wig that makes him look like Wayne or Garth. No one had spotted him either! --coyote said innocently, "Gee, there's something for you in the trunk."

"Really?!" (Like he didn't know!) And we all five trotted off down the block to where the car was parked. --I swear, the Mansons take invisibility pills or something. Here's two of them walking down the street, at least a hundred kids waiting in line for their sold-out show, and not one fan recognizes either one. Or were they just too shy/polite to step up?...

coyote handed Twiggy the little box and we all clustered to see his reaction. I wish you all could have seen his face - think 'kid at Christmas'. He took it out and stood it in his palm with a wide-eyed "Wow, this is ultimate." Played with its hair, complimented her on the pose, ran his finger very carefully over the little white bass ("...it's The Guitar," he said solemnly. Aww....misses his dead pet.). It was something else - he didn't bubble or enthuse - he was knocked speechless. Thanked coyote a bunch of times, posed for pix, and then tucked it back into its box and headed off to stash it safely on the bus. Happy happy we.

By now a bunch of kids had gotten up the courage to approach Zim, and he and Ginger did a round of autographs and photos. It was fun to watch. (Digression: Zim to angelynx, sounding concerned: "I saw you last night - you were getting landed on." angelynx, touched: "Um, yeah, crowd [in Baltimore, that is] was pretty rough." --Gee, he actually noticed. What a doll. =)

Anyway, finally it's time. Get inside, get to the barricade with Carrie (and Jeannette/Godhead, still showing the name "Marilyn" scarred into her chest from last year's razor job), and sing along with NY Loose. Their set's tighter than before and they seem to be having genuine fun. Maybe it helps to have two or three girls on the front line who know the chorus to "Pretty Suicide." [Sad digression: This is the first time I've been in the new 9:30 and I tell ya...it's a bright, good-looking venue, roomy high stage, nice acoustics and solid barricade, but I wish they'd call it something else. The old 9:30, dank and crowded little black hole though it was, was my all-time favorite club - the only non-nature place outside my own home I've felt consistently happy and safe - and its memory ought to be retired in peace along with its name. --Sorry, non-Washingtonians, I had to say it.]

Lights up, Bowie LP on, stagies scurry. Darkness, red light, clouds of smoke. Here goes.

--An absolutely brilliant set, high intensity, tight, sharp, just utterly heartstealing. Goddamn they're so good! Rough weather down front - the crush against the barricade hardly lets up for a second and oxygen's scarce - but who cares? Twiggy's in great form, frisking and bouncing like his old self, kicking high enough to show all of DC his choice of pantyhose. And the good Reverend --also seeming in fine spirits--spends more than half the show on this end of the barricade, leaving us and clan (Sharptooth, Tumbleweed, P'com, Godhead and Carrie) barely a foot away from him at any given time. Major bliss.

In fact, less than a foot away...Just as "Dogma" begins he takes one stride forward and launches himself in a full-length stage dive, right on top of coyote! and I mean RIGHT on top! Before anyone can blink she's bent over backward completely supporting him on her ribcage, kids (including EVB and I!) are scrambling to touch him or protect him or something, the bouncers and Manson's bodyguard are going psycho trying to grab him back now, and he's got this big eyes-closed Cheshire cat smirk on his face. (We later on figured out exactly where she must have had her nose as he slid forward, and, well, it might be grounds for divorce in some states. >=)

*sigh*...he's looking especially elegant this tour. (When he's not drying himself off on your roommate, that is. =) Lots of long, extended gestures, lots of nice silhouette shots in smoke and colored light. He has indeed put on a little weight, but it looks healthy and solid to this eye - when he gets to "I wanna grow up" in "Lunchbox" he flexes his bicep in the classic muscle pose, and actually shows some muscle! --another good line in "Lunchbox": "I wanna be/ a big rock and roll star" has become "I wanna be /Antichrist Superstar," and that gets singalongs and a laugh.

Damn, we had so much fun. Got to sing part of "Get Your Gunn" and "Lunchbox" when he held out the mike - darn near blew my throat out on the pow pow pows. Let's see, complete set - snow machines for "Cryptorchid," which was just as beautiful as before; podium et al for "ACS;" only thing missing was "Man That You Fear" (damn). Oh, but they didn't do "Sweet Dreams." In fact they quite spectacularly didn't do "Sweet Dreams." Here's what happened: the guitar intro played and Manson raised the usual hand-held light to his face. A large segment of the crowd burst into loud cheers and whistles, then happily began to sing. Manson stood rock still and watched them, lip curling back, expression gradually becoming a glare that would've frozen lava. None of the SD'ers noticed this - or the fact that he hadn't sung a word of it himself yet - instead continuing to sing. (The rest of us, of course, were braced for the detonation...) Manson slung his light to the floor and stalked over to Zim Zum, signaling him to stop (this took a moment as Zim was earnestly concentrating on his strings), then pivoted midstage, arched backwards and shrieked "FUCKIIIIT!" so loud it probably shook plates off Bill and Hillary's dinner table - kicking the band into a full-tilt "Hate Anthem." Yahoo! Sweet dreams are made of that! (So much for "catering to our MTV audience"...)

What more can I say? What a great show!

..to main gig review page.
..to the next night.