Marilyn Manson: The controversial ‘Antichrist Superstar' brings his sell-out tour to London

Telegraph

22-02-2025

By conventional norms of contemporary culture, this brief UK tour by Florida industrial heavy metal musician Marilyn Manson should not be happening. Manson, whose real name is Brian Warner, should have been cancelled some time ago. The 56-year-old has faced shocking sexual abuse and assault allegations in recent years, including by his former fiancé, the Westworld actress Evan Rachel Wood. In January a three-hour Channel 4 documentary called Marilyn Manson: Unmasked laid bare these claims.
But this sold-out concert at the 5,300-capacity concert at Hammersmith Apollo was heaving with black-clad devotees, the fullest I've ever seen the west London venue. Shows in Newcastle and Wolverhampton are sold out too. Manson denies the allegations and has not been charged with any crime, and last month a years-long investigation was dropped by California prosecutors. In December, Manson's new album, One Assassination Under God – Chapter 1, even entered the top 40.
'He's as popular now as he always was, isn't he?' said fan Andy Parsons, 45, who'd travelled up from Cornwall with his wife. 'If he was like Gary Glitter, it's a different world. He's been convicted, he's evil. But innocent until proven guilty in this country. And I love his music, so…' Outside in the smoking area, Mandy, in her thirties, agrees. 'You either believe him or you don't. And everything's been dropped. It's only in the press because of who he is. People only care because he's controversial,' she says. 'Innocent until proven guilty, though, isn't it?' repeats her husband.
Controversial. That's one word for Manson's shock rock shlock. The goth-androgyny demigod is known for his white make-up, coloured contact lenses and lank hair as much as for album titles such as The Golden Age of Grotesque and Antichrist Superstar. Here, a curtain dropped amid red and white strobes and smoke to reveal Manson in a black leather outfit and vertiginously-heeled boots. The backdrop was a crepuscular forest. He hollered over grinding, pounding music defined by pace, pitch and dark textures in front of a sea of phones. Filming not moshing, how very 2025. Someone invaded the stage. Before the glam stomp of Disposable Teens, Manson defiantly shouted, 'London! They tried to take me away from you and they failed.' The roar was deafening.
The discordant sonics of Tourniquet approximated the feel of having one applied – clever, really – while Meet Me In Purgatory pulsed with post-punk energy. Was this a person or persona on stage? Occasionally Manson pulled poses like a demonic Struwwelpeter, suggesting the latter in a theatrical tradition stretching back to Victorian freak shows. But then he covered Eurythmics' 1983 hit Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) and screamed the line 'Some of them want to be abused' and – innocent though he is – I felt deeply uncomfortable.
Cancellation is a spectrum, and musicians seem to avoid it more than those in other professions. Michael Jackson is still revered while poor old Gregg Wallace is marooned up the cancellation canyon. Funny old world.
This was a hard gig to get my head around. Everyone I chatted to was kind, polite and rational. But I couldn't get past the situation. I started to question whether I was simply illiberal and suspicious. But then, actually, I just felt a bit sorry for the man on stage: a middle-aged end-of-pier gothic Widow Twankey with a misplaced sense of triumph. Meet me in purgatory? No thanks. I think I'll leave you there.