Disposable Teens

Disposable Teens

Last we heard, the devil had reported one of his better tunes as missing. This, we assume, is it.

He might have a face made for doing violence upon, might be a teen distortion, a survived abortion, but there’s something quaintly endearing about Marilyn Manson’s increasingly camp, bookish appearance. Like Monty Burns perched high above Springfield in his power station, Manson peers down upon Hollywood and arches an eyebrow. He likes what he sees and he wants it all. And if he can’t have it, he’ll simply have to destroy it. As Satan’s own cartoon emissary on earth, he’s furious, and his fury manifests itself in a rum old glam-metal stomp. ‘Disposable Teens’

is a deliriously evil, towering inferno of a record that sounds

not unlike a medley of Gary Glitter anthems performed by Napalm Death with a ferocious, salivating and well-read Doberman on vocals. Last we heard, the devil had reported one of his better tunes as missing. This, we assume, is it.


Piers Martin