We get there early--2-2:30 ish. There's no one at the club 'cept for the crew, (who are washing the Ryder trucks--"no more 'fender likes boys'!" I cry--this had been written in the dirt on the back of one truck for weeks), their bus, and KORN. Cruise some junk shops that line the street the club's on, but see nothing more interesting than a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang thermos (sans lunchbox) and a hideous lime-green and black shirt that just screams Ginger's name to us. Eye some other black clad souls, Danzig fans, it seems. We waste some time at the Hardees at the end of the block--it gives an excellent view of the back of the club. Bored. Waiting. It's Florida, it's hot (why do people live there? How did they do it before air conditioning? As the Rev has said, you might as well kill yourself without it). We decide to swing around the block again; we're supposed to meet Mauricio, one of EVB's Danzig penpals from Los Angeles, here

We find him out front, talk a bit-- I'm looking back towards the corner and see a by now familiar dark blue bus pull by. Tap Liz on the shoulder "Bus alert!" and we head off 'round back, Mauricio in tow saying excitedly "Danzig's here?!" "No," we say, "Marilyn Manson," and he looks confused...

They park across the street from the back of Club 5--it's got a tiny load-in area, and that's already full of Ryder trucks and the other two buses. Ooze down to our car, on the club side (this takes us past the bus, y'see...), taking our time. Only to get nearly run over by Ginger, crossing the street at his usual fast clip. Down the block at the car, I watch as Twiggy (dressed all in black) heads across the street at a leisurely rate, only to realize he'd better pick up his heels if he doesn't plan on being road pizza. He crosses the right lane at a dead run, inches ahead of a panel truck.

We walk slowly back toward the bus, on its side of the street now. Pass it, and stake out a spot beside/behind it, adjacent to a utility pole and an excuse for a tree. We watch as various band members scurry back and forth across the street. Twiggy comes back out of the club, gives us a quick 'oh, it's you guys' glance, and returns to inner bus. A few minutes pass, and he returns with the Reverend. Twig pokes him, points back at us--Manson waves, gives us a smile, and heads off across the street. Daisy follows them shortly--they hang out and talk by the Ryder trucks. Madonna's the last to appear. I'm amused as he hauls his bag out of the bus's innards, and proceeds to unpack everything in search of one elusive item (which is on the bottom, of course). It's heartening to know that he subscribes to the same packing method I do--'if it can be rolled into a ball and crammed in, just do it'.

Jonathan KORN walks by, coming from the dry cleaners. He's got a fine stack of clean jogging suits for the rest of the tour. I'm beginning to wonder if he's sponsored by Adidas.... The Mansons return to our side, and head back onto the bus. The door barely has time to close when Twiggy and Mr. M reappear, and head off down the street away from us. We sit awhile, then decide to walk off in the same direction they did, go around the block, and start the line. We're almost to the front door of the venue when the Rev and Twiggy swing out of one of the junk shops beside it, and turn down the street toward us. They're watching us, we're watching them...

Our paths cross; EVB takes the plunge. "Hi, how's it going?" They stop.

The Rev looks at us. "I hate this place," he says, barely audible above the street noise, looking back at the club. "Last time we played here I got arrested..."

"Yeah, we heard--sorry," volunteers EVB. Cathy and I are still standing in awe. "in light of that, is tonight's show gonna be tame, or what?"

He cocks his head to the side, and ponders. "I don't know..." he's obviously been giving this matter some consideration. "I wouldn't be playing this place at all if it wasn't for our fans...I don't want to disappoint anybody..." He chews on the lip ring, thoughtfully. We thank him for playing the show tonight, and let them go, each group waving goodbye. "See ya later.." we offer, and we head off on our separate ways.

We get in line, and watch as Daisy cuts across the street to go shopping in one of the record stores there. We wave, he grins. Chris decides he needs to go over to the same store, and follows Daisy. We later hear that he ends up chatting a bit, and recommending various bands/CDs to the green-haired one.

Doors are supposed to open at 8:00. The first indication we have that they won't is when Danzig's bus pulls up at 7:30 for their soundcheck, thereby preventing KORN and MM from having theirs. Deliberate? Probably, as we know they got into town the previous evening. A little, petty act against the opening band who's been steadily upstaging them. We wait eons. The security tonight are dicks, tormenting the restless, hot crowd clustered outside the door by pretending to open said doors, and indicating to us how nice and cool it is inside. When they DO open them, it's only so the goons can file out and stare at the line, then go back in, laughing. Our Official Security Dick of the Night is a dude we dub 'Mr. Clean', for that's exactly who he looks like. We're obviously not the only ones to have noticed the resemblance--a kid ahead of us starts quietly singing the Mr. Clean song from the TV ads, and gets threatened with the pointing (clean) finger of doom, accompanied by a growl that breaks down into "I'm gonna be watchin' you tonight, BOY..." Since he has the personality of a snapping turtle rolled up with a wolverine we take him seriously.

Sometime well AFTER 8:30 the doors open - I'm too hot and tired to check exactly when (remember, we've been in line since about 4...). We fly to our usual spot. The club is tiny, another one of those places where they have to unload the last band's equipment off the front of the stage before they can set up for the next act. The front of the stage (and the barrier) is curved, which makes for an interesting vantage point. Even more interesting is security's decision that no one may TOUCH the barrier, let alone LEAN on it...

Before KORN I notice Munky standing a bit to my right, in between us and the stage. He's looking at us, like 'again--they're here...' I can't help it --I'm basically friendly, and all I could think was 'this guy sees us every night, and probably thinks we hate him.' So, I wave. Instantly we've got a new friend--bounce bounce bounce, shake hands, rattle on about bungee jumping in Panama City (and getting the shakes about it after the fact--Chris can relate to this, as he did it once, and once only, too), etc.

The guy beside me taps him on the shoulder--"Are you with KORN?" "Sure am!
--Guitar!" and he's off again. Boingie boingie. Signs ticket stubs, happily chats...the stage goes dark, the intro music comes up. "Oh, that's our music--I should go-" He does a couple more signatures before climbing on stage, and smiles at us the whole night.

The Mansons appear. It's another one of those nights that starts slowly and builds. You can tell Mr. Manson isn't at ease--his nerves are stretched tight by the place, and he's alert for anything that's a hint of trouble. At one point ('Dogma' I think) Twiggy spins around, careens backwards into the drum kit, knocks several of them over, spins out, and drops his bass, then stands there looking confused. Considering that earlier he'd backed into his amps hard enough to rock them off balance I'm not real surewhat planet he was in orbit around. They play on, the Rev ignoring the sudden loss of the bass sound and half the drums. Roadies scurry, drums are reset, Twig's rehooked--the show continues. Mr. Manson must've been pleased with his new jump-on-the-cube trick--does it three or four times for emphasis, each time going higher. Actually, he spends a lot of time on the cube tonight--crawling on it, and lurking, and staying perched on it to sing 'Sweet Dreams' at our side again.

The Rev eyes the crowd. "Last time we played this shithole I got arrested...the only reason I'm back here tonight is for you motherfuckers." (Tonight's prelude to "..everybody SPIT on ME.")

BUT. Things were about to come to an unwelcome and abrupt end. Halfway through 'Lunchbox' suddenly the power in the place went--lights, sound, AC --everything. The band stopped. They looked at each other in complete bafflement, then turned and left, their fearless leader taking the lead. SOMEONE had pulled the plug on them; debate reigns still as to whether it was someone connected to the club (not wanting them to get to That Song where he takes off his clothes, perhaps) or someone from the Danzig camp. The plug that was tampered with was only reachable from the stairs to Danzig's dressing room--I saw where it was when they rehooked it after the mass confusion. I didn't see anyone near it (wasn't really looking), but my suspicion leans more towards the club. (I suppose it's just barely possible that the Mansons had it done themselves, but I don't think so. They looked just as surprised as the rest of us.)

Poor guys. This hasn't been their tour--LOTS of equipment problems, and now this. They've only played one full set (Birmingham) since Pittsburgh. Chris learned from Daisy before the show that it wasn't the pickups on the red guitar that fouled up the other night, as he'd thought--more likely something in the cord, as I'd originally suspected (I know what a short in wiring sounds like). By this point they're all sounding a little tired, and a bit baffled as to why things are going wrong so consistently.

So, it wasn't a good night for the Rev and his crew. By the time Danzig had finished, the Mansons' bus was long gone, probably headed out on the road five hours south to Boca Raton and Ft. Lauderdale. They must have left pretty quickly, as I only saw Ginger briefly, right after Danzig came on. I had been sitting on the stairs, until Mr. Clean threatened to break my skull if I didn't move--yeah, we were right, he was definitely Security Dick of the Night. I moved, and parked myself on the floor near the t-shirts, and had started writing the notes for the night when I felt someone looking at me. Looked up, and there was Ginger, looking down at me with interest and a little puzzlement--kind of an 'I know I've been seeing you everywhere...' look.

Incidentally, one of the things we found out today, while talking to one of Danzig's roadies, was the REAL reason Panama City was cancelled. "Didja SEE the place?" he sez. "Where were they gonna play? There's a fuckin' swimming pool in front of the stage! Glenn told 'em the only way they'd play would be if they drained the damned thing and made it the pit for the night."

Jacksonville set list: Cake And Sodomy; Cyclops; Snake Eyes And Sissies; Dope Hat; Organ Grinder; Sweet Dreams; Dogma; 3/4 of Lunchbox

What the guys were wearing: Twiggy - pink dress, no eyebrows (but LOTS of black eye shadow), black lipstick drawn back to jawbone hinge from each corner of his mouth. Looks like he bought a new shell choker in Panama City (or it could be a new candy necklace...). The Rev - the usual attire, sans the gloves. 'ANTI' over the left eye, in red, as usual these days. Madonna - white/light grey shirt, black jacket, black shorts, the one leg black/one white tights; thick black leather dog collar with spikes, a leash, and dog tags! (This is what he was going through his luggage for; couldn't tell what it was then, but when I saw it on him all those straps added up.) Daisy - The black net shirt, with the silvery shredded pants over the green leather ones again. Eyebrows done as stylized jagged lines, your classic water symbol(or maybe rick-rack...). Ginger - black t-shirt...pretty much the same as it's been. Don't think he brought along as many clothes as as the others did...

--coyote--