Yesterday was Sunrise/Ft. Lauderdale--Manson home base. And probably 80%
of the audience was there for them. (Probably the same percentage was under 18, too.) We got there around 6:00, after hitting the signing that Danzig was doing.
Get to the theatre and (joy joy!) park by the buses; this is luck--when
we've previously been here they've not let anyone behind the place. We
locate the only shade in sight, the shadow of a decent-sized tree
conveniently placed right by the drive/walkway up to backstage. We're not
alone, as about 25 Manson fans have also staked out this vantage point. We
sit. We talk. We get an audience, including the world's most annoying
13-year-old. He's trying to impress us with how he's the ultimate Manson
fan--he's seen 'em seven times... And if I hear "well, I know Jeordie's
brother" one more time I'm gonna get the duct tape and strap him to the
front of the bus. We wait. The obnoxious 13-year-old is busy rattling on,
still trying. (kid, it won't work; we don't 'impress'). "Oh, I NEVER call
'em by their stage names..." (Yeah, right, great YOU know so much, how come YOU don't know Madonna's last name?) and he mentions he's scared to call Mr. Manson 'Brian' to his face, too. (My own opinion on this is that I'll call people whatever they've indicated they'd prefer to be called.) "I know where Brian is right now--I saw him get on that bus right there," ob13 sez, pointing at Danzig's bus. We say, politely, that we don't think so, the dark blue bus is Manson's, but he's certain he's right so we let it slide.
Ginger scurries by. The next thing we know, he and Joey (Danzig's drummer)are playing a bit
of one-on-one basketball by the backstage door (they've got a hoop mounted
on the wall). Ginger's pretty good--EVB gets a photo or two of him sinking
a basket. Joey, on the other hand, is hopeless, and never makes a single point.
While we're all watching and
laughing and doing the picture thang, the Reverend and Twiggy get off the
bus (the blue one--wonder if we can add teleportation to Brian's bag of
tricks, too?) and head down the drive. Manson sees us, stops, gives us a
smile and a wave, then heads past the awestruck kids without a single
glance. They're quiet. They fade back to their cars... The Rev, I must
add, was wearing an outfit only he could have pulled off: the same red
shades he wore in Wilkes-Barre, a black shirt, and lipstick red, shiny vinyl pants. Anyone else would have looked really cheap and silly, but it looked great on him.
Madonna and Daisy also wander by, separately--think Madonna was wearing
the Rev's usual black pants. (Hey, we've seen those two share clothes
before. But, I don't know, they just don't have the same effect when
they're on Madonna Wayne...) THEN we hear the most godawful drum noise - we look at each other and say "drum ritual!" and scramble to a better vantage point. And yes, there's Ginger--AND Joey, AND whatshisname from KORN - all bashing away with miles of enthusiasm right outside the loading door, using mostly Ginger's kit with a few loose bits of the KORN guy's. It's a truly awe-inspiring sight and sound once they all get into sync - I feel you could've heard it for miles. And there, back inside, looking over the three-way drum ritual, and alternating between glancing at them and us, is the God of Fuck hisself.
The drum jam ends as abruptly as it began, and we circle 'round front. We
end up exchanging a few words with an older fellow standing by the door--
he's probably in his late 40s- early/mid 50s, wearing a 'God of Fuck' hat
and one of the rare short-sleeved Satanic Army shirts. He's also wearing a
pass. He complains that his wife won't let him smoke in the car, his son won't let him smoke at home, and now they won't let you smoke in clubs, either. Chris, of course, informs him he should just stop all together; it's bad for you. As we walk in we notice his (I assume) wife: blonde,
not as tall as he is (but still fairly tall). She's got a blue denim jacket tossed over her shoulder; it's not new, and has the old MM & Spooky Kids logo on it, surrounded by LOTS of art--spooky trees, dice, tendrils, THINGS. Looks like paint marker work. I recognize the drawing style...my mind starts to work...It's not until a bit later that I confirm my suspicions: hubby has EXACTLY the same profile as a certain exhibitionist pyromaniac we all know and love. Yes, folks, unless I'm way mistaken we have witnessed the God of Fuck's parents, right there in front of us. Hallelujah! (This fact was born out by later encounters, BTW)
We sit out KORN, and watch the crowd. It's real young--most of them seem
to be barely out of junior high school, if that. Head into the auditorium
for Manson. The seats aren't BAD--it's one of those places where it's
probably near impossible to have a bad seat--but they're SEATS, and I know
where I wanna be. They come out flying, and all I can wonder is what it's
like to be playing in a place where I'm sure they've all seen many concerts
in the past. (Did anyone ever say, 'someday I wanna be ON this stage,
and not here in the audience'?)
The blue-grey dress (for that's what the Reverend's wearing tonight) is
peeled off after two songs. He tries his new jump-on-the-cube trick again--a spectacularly high attempt, with legs tucked up like a puissance horse--but comes down rocked back on his heels, and overbalances backwards, right off the damned thing in a tangle of hair and arms and legs. I worry for a minute that he's hurt bad. Daisy looks down, frowns, shakes his head, and you can almost hear him think 'well, THAT was stupid...' But the Rev crawls up, mike still in hand, and avoids the evil cube for the next song or so. (When he does return to it he tries a little jump--just a few inches; it's not gonna get a chance to dump him again.) During 'Dogma' he picks up a bottle, smashes it, and starts cutting. There's a good bit of blood. He pegs the broken neck off Twiggy's arm. Twig is NOT amused; he swings the bass down, grabs a water bottle and throws it back, hard. 'Dogma' ends with a feeling of impending chaos.
'Lunchbox' begins in the same spirit--the Rev spins around, holding the
mike on a long cord--it spins out and strikes Daisy, some 10+ feet away.
Daisy steps back and continues playing. Manson grabs the mike stand, pulls
it back over his head and menaces Madonna, who grabs his keyboards and yanks them back out of the way before the thing can crash down. Twiggy is still circling around without his bass, throwing water bottles and anything else that's not nailed down. They finally slide into 'Lunchbox' proper
--the Reverend decides this is a fine time to peel off what clothing
remains, and does so, mooning the crowd. 'Lunchbox' careens to an end; the mike stand is
used to inflict drum damage, then flies right over Ginger's head (he ducks). The keyboards come next, and everything ends in total destruction. (Notice how Daisy and Twiggy usually make either a quick exit during these little bash-and-trash affairs, or stay well outta the way and THEN leave, clutching their guitar pets protectively?)
I head out to the lobby/outer area. I WAS planning on watching Danzig from
a nice, safe seat tonight, but I have a burning need to escape the woman
ahead of us before I do her great bodily harm. (I do NOT need to hear how
she likes 'real men' and not 'these faggots'.) So I retreat, only to have (yea!) a
great time watching various Mansons meeting and greeting old friends.
Mr. and Mrs. Warner/Manson left, shaking their heads and laughing --you could almost hear them saying "what WILL that boy think of next?" (And they didn't even get to see their son's new gloves.)
Went to a Denny's afterwards. Mauricio's had about five beers, and he's
pretty loose; starts telling the waitress we're all Satanists, and singing
'Cake and Sodomy'. The waitress retaliates with dirty jokes. It's a capper to a weird evening.
Lauderhell set list: Cake And Sodomy; Cyclops; Snake Eyes And Sissies; Dope
Hat; Organ Grinder; Sweet Dreams; Dogma; Lunchbox
More fashion hints from sunny south FL.: Twiggy - pink dress, usual makeup
- dark around the eyes, and a wide smear of lipstick. Mr. Manson - return
of the blue-grey dress/black jockstrap combo, eye socket on the left done in red, no eyebrow on that side. Daisy - same as Jacksonville. Ginger - good question. Black t-shirt. (I hate seats, can't see people nearly close enough!) Madonna - red short-sleeve shirt over black long-sleeve rubber one (ah, shopping at the local fetish shop again?), black vinyl/leather shorts, and the orange tights with the art are back.
--coyote--