Since everybody else has contributed theirs, here's my story of how I joined the Manson Family Circus...

Flashback, to 1994. POAAF had but been out a little while when roomie #2 (EVB) picked it up, sheerly on the theory that Trent wouldn't sign crap. It went into the car CD changer, and stayed there; I, at the time, was less than impressed (so sue me--I was in one of my anti-anything vaguely industrial phases). Headbangers Ball played the GYG video--EVB had me tape it for her (and now we can't find which tape that nice first generation copy's on...), I was still...not impressed. EVB got tickets to see NIN/Jim Rose/MM in Hampton VA (we'd missed the closer shows), I opted out of going from the start because 1. I definitly did not want to see NIN in an arena; and 2. I definitly didn't want to see this MM band she was so keen on; I kept hearing snippits of POAAF, and it hadn't grown on me a bit, other than, well, "'Dope Hat' is kinda catchy.." Due to circumstances best left to her 'how I found MM' story, she ended up *not* going to the Hampton show, so wasn't able to come home and rave at me about what I missed. Shortly thereafter, tho, (while we were driving around the midwest - which seemed to be underwater, it rained the whole time) for a week I made a truce with the album--she played it through several times for me, and, I grudgingly decided it was OK. Not great (I still felt there was a lot of filler on it, tho I'm hard pressed now to say which tracks I labled as such ), but listenable.
Fast forward a couple of months. I get this phone call. It's EVB at work. "Guess who's coming to the 9:30 Club on Valentine's day!!" No guess, I plead ignorance. "Marilyn Manson!!!!!" Oh. Great. And she's gonna want me to go see 'em, cause she won't go alone. "Y'wanna go??" she asks. I do the 'yeah, sure, whynot?' unthrilled sort of thing, and start counting down the days til my eardrums get pummeled by absolute noise.

We got there early that night, and got in line. I don't think I've ever been in a more enthusiastically wired group--my interest begin to pick up a bit--anyone with this much devotion and loyalty and energy in their following might have something. (My favorite to this day was the kid who kept leaping and scaling up the decaying walls of the hallway (the 9:30 was in a condemmed building) toward the white stalactite stains/accretions that had oozed out of the ceiling screaming "It's the jizzum of Jesus!!! It's the Second Cumming of the Lord!!!")
We went in. We went down front, to the knee high stage (never a barricade at the old 9:30), and laughed at the posey wannabee gothettes who were so bored with life they could barely keep on living. Right behind us was the chair mounted on a support pillar--that's the perch they use to video tape the band from. It was about to become important to this story... Monster Voodoo Machine came on. Hey, I decide, they're kinda cool... The crowd (all 250, 300 of them, which was double fire capacity for the place (damn, it's hard to refer to it in the past tense!)) came alive. Suddenly, something large and very heavy dropped on me from above, and I lost conciousness, and regained it just as I hit the floor. The object, all 6 foot plus of him, was now in front of me--he'd climbed the ladder up to the chair, and cannonballed off, directly onto the top of my head. I was in **extreme** pain, I was scared, and I was very very pissed...I stuck out my fingernails, and all 5'2" of me went right up his legs and back (remember--I was on the floor), dug my claws into his neck, and beging ripping out dreadlocks by the handful, alternating with bashing him upside the head and screaming "YOU GODDAMN FUCKER YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!!!" Somehow, he got me off, and I shifted over to stand behind/on the other side of EVB, still shaking, still seeing red and madder than hell, still convinced my neck was broken. MVM finished their set, I didn't notice them. I didn't notice the roadies setting up for MM. I was thinking that there was no way this band was gonna be good enough to compensate for the pain I was in. Mr. Jerk, who caused all of this, came over and began harrassing me--"I work here, I can have the two of you thrown out--I think I will." (Hurting a patron--great way for an employee to behave, right?) I muttered something about pain and stupid assholes, and he countered with "It's a hardcore show, you should know what to expect." (Excuse me??? MM, hardcore??? The mind boggles...) I turned my back, and ignored him.

The lights went out, except for the red one (or was that the red haze still covering my vision?). The club filled with fog...

They must have walked right by me to get on the stage--I was aware of something tall and not quite human passing by my right after the musicians took their places...once on stage, it took the mikestand, and loomed out in the hellish red light... And silence was pulverized by the most incredible wall of sound I've ever heard. Mr Manson was wearing the shapeless blue/grey dress, (which didn't last for long) and my eyes were riveted. I forgot I hurt. I just stared and listened, probably with my mouth open. 'This is it, this is it' my brain kept going. EVB rested her hands on the edge of the stage--the double handful of Axel rings caught the horrible/magical creature's attention, and he lurched over to examine them (after all, he's got one himself), putting himself scarcely two feet away from me. "Why--he's actually pretty, in a terrible sort of way" I thought. My mind reeled...the show passed in a blur. The gothettes continued to look bored, even when the onstage apparition extended a clawed hand and hauled a perky little blonde stand to their left side on stage. It fixed her with an evil bi-colored stare.
"who's yer daddy?" it creaked/hissed.
Blondie looked confused; "My daddy? He works in Potomac..." "WHO'S yer DADDY?" it repeated, annoyance dripping from the words.
"But..*my* daddy.."
And he pushes her backwards off the stage, unconcerned if the crowd catches her, or not. (They do, but only barely).
"Sweet Dreams" and "Down In the Park" surprised us, old favorites from our past. We sang enthusiastically along, as the rest of the crowd fell silent; He noticed, and grinned, and settled in front of us again. But the night was over too quickly, and we were left to gather up whatever remanants of magic(k) remained after they'd left the stage and the house lights had gone up. We stumbled out into the cold Februrary night, not quite sure if we remembered how to walk, let alone find the car, and drive the 20 miles home. I don't remember much about the drive, except we were both babbling about 'the most incredible/best live band we'd ever seen in years and years of concert going...' And, of course, a good helping of needing to see them again, ASAP. (Which we accomplished a few weeks later, at the TLA in Philadelphia, and many times since, but that's another several stories...)

Oh, and my neck? It was two weeks before I could turn my head; another two before I had much up and down movement. It took longer, actually, than that to work the compression and pain out of it. But, it didn't hurt while MM were right in front of me, hereby being one of the first reported miracles of ACS...

--coyote--