Request Code 432

TV on in my parents’ bedroom: the single family pc is on my dad’s desk so my brother and I spend a lot of time in here. We’re watching The Box, a channel that cycles through music videos you can request by phoning and inserting a code. At some point that afternoon, a video I’d never seen pops up. It’s LOUD and obnoxious and it looks something like a fascist rally (not that 13 year old me had any idea of what that looked like). The singer is screeching and the music is the most abrasive I’ve ever heard, at one point he starts ripping pages out of a book that could be none other than the Bible. I am transfigured. Goosebumps go up and down my arms and back. This is what I was looking for.

Manson in a dark suit at a podium bearing the lightning bolt symbol, tearing pages out of a book, red curtains and stage lights behind him Marilyn Manson, Antichrist Superstar live, from Dead to the World (1998)

The video was from Marilyn Manson’s Antichrist Superstar. I had seen The Beautiful People video a few months prior on MTV but never really thought about it too much (and it never came back on my radar). I was a 13 year old who was starting to explore “heavier” musicthose quotes carry a lot, given heavier in this case meant Metallica’s Reload, Aerosmith’s Nine Lives and Green Day’s Nimrod. Over the coming months, I phoned in a number of times for that video (I still remember its code, 432).

I grew up in a very religious family, where rules were strict and at times incomprehensible… and that scene of some guy ripping up the Bible spoke to me. Directly. I needed more of that.

I caught a bus to the nearest town and started looking for a copy. I couldn’t just buy a CD: the only CD player in the house was communal and that would have been a problem… no I needed a cassette. So I started tearing through every record shop in town and no one seemed to have a copy on cassette. I was actually almost scared of pronouncing the name aloud, as if someone could overhear me and report me to… someone, I don’t know. I had almost given up when, hidden behind a corner in the very last shop, there it was. I had been seeing the CD cover which was pretty tame (a red pseudo-authoritarian symbol of lightning on a black background used as an outer slipcase in the European version) but the cassette was EXTREME to my eyes. See for yourselves:

The Antichrist Superstar cassette in its case: a grainy black-and-white photo of a pale, thin, nearly naked Manson standing with wings behind him Marilyn Manson, Antichrist Superstar · cassette, Nothing / Interscope, 1996 · photo via Discogs

I literally wore that tape out over the next few months: on my walkman, every waking hour, on my way to school, just before bed, in the back of the car while going to church (yeeeeaah), I was listening to the likes of Tourniquet, The Man That You Fear and all. In a way I felt like I was following the evolution described in this concept album, from a worm (which I very much felt like) to the Antichrist reborn. I imagined myself as Manson, spitting out “We hate god” in front of a crowd (though cringey, interestingly enough there were no lyrics for this intro piece in the sheet for Irresponsible Hate Anthem and I misheard the actual line “We hate love” as “We hate god” which sounded chef-kissingly perfect to little Filthpig).

There was so much anger in this album, so much anger in me and I felt I could bond with the creator over this.

I shared this new obsession with a childhood friend. He was from the same church and we were both tween/teens with a bit of a rebellious streak (not really that evident mind you, but something was bubbling beneath the surface). We would listen and talk about it, though he was going through a “more interested in girls” phase, I was deep into music and a budding interest in the occult. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?) this friend’s mother found his cassette and decided to spill the beans to my mom.

Tragedy struck the family. My mother was crying, my dad was confused by some of the lyrics (understandably, I remember him specifically reading through the line

I will bury your god in my warm spit,
You’ll be deformed in your porn

and being particularly disturbed).

My dad took me on a drive. We stayed out for what seemed like hours, talking about a bit of everything. It was awkward (like speaking with your dad at 13 about “important” things can be) but not too awkward. It was unusually hot and we were driving with the windows rolled down, while talking about growing up, my interest in the other sex and the future. The future was a big deal in this conversation and things got pretty intense at one point (at least inside of my head). My dad saw me as a possible future leader and leaned into choosing: do you want to be a leader “for good” or “for evil”I know it sounds like an epic battle, but that’s in line with how the church views getting out of bed every morning. This stuck with me and obviously stroked my blossoming ego.

At one point, we decided that it was time to throw the tape out. I got out of the car and, under my dad’s watch, threw away the tape (I might have unravelled it too but it’s been a while and the memory’s blurred). I was such an ANGRY teen but I couldn’t quite take that step. Accepting that music was too difficult because it meant crossing a bridge I wasn’t ready for: I couldn’t fathom changing the relationship with my parents, the church and god himself… yet.

Just a few years later I had no trouble: I practically had the full discography on dubbed cassettes and did not give a fuck. But that first act of rebellion, which ended in what my teen self saw as cowardice and submission, still burned and fueled my anger further.

I revisit this album pretty regularly (not often, but it sort of lives rent free in my head and pops up at random times). It’s very far from my current tastes but some parts still make me feel tingly. It still surfaces feelings of independence and strikes me as the moment when I decided I was to be the creator of my own world, my own thoughts and ideas. It’s difficult for me to judge this album outside of the lens of nostalgia… like, to be honest most of his discography up to and including Mechanical Animals. I remember pretty much hating the following albumI’ve actually had to google the name: Holy Wood and I wonder what it would be like to listen to Antichrist Superstar for the first time without all this baggage (and without even touching the revelations regarding him).

Next good weather day I’ll go for a ride, roll down the windows and swap black/death/doom metal for The Beautiful People. You’ve come a long way, kiddo.