All right, Marilyn, we get it already. We are reality, we are a reflection of how sick society has become, we are your children, blah, blah, blah.
My problem with the music is the plodding, unimaginative riffs that break each tired track's back. The band's caustic, over-the-top industrial blast, wholly without ideas, wears thin fast. The predictably dramatic industrial vox and electronic drumming (not to mention those irritating tom tom beats) are enough to grind enjoyment to a mucked-up halt. But it's the underlying song structure that's usually the lamest act. Manson's thoughts are barely formed, his convictions are as permanent as the lifespan of flies.
He’s a bent, self-mutilating, mixed-up guy who outside of what he does to himself visually, is miserably uninteresting. He relies on shock factor (including the band's drug clown looks), to carry the tune. Sum total: bad theater wholly without purpose.
And slow, did I mention slow?