It’s 2015, and Marilyn Manson has become irrelevant. He’s as far from the spotlight as a rock star can get, yet The Pale Emperor sounds like he’s been lurking in the shadows with hate in his heart all along. This new material could have been made at the peak of Manson’s shocking career, packed to the brim with sleazy, electric fun. I definitely should not like this record as much as I do.
“Third Day Of A Seven Day Binge” and “The Devil Beneath My Feet” are ragers rooted in vintage Manson filth. Somehow he makes hell seem worth the risk while constantly keeping his tongue in cheek. The smeared lipstick, the creepy visuals, the devil’s sign…it’s one massive joke that we’ve been in on for the past twenty years, and it’s still a blast.