Die Mannequin, Marilyn Manson @ Scotiabank Place – Sep20/09
Die Mannequin is a bad influence. I picked up a copy of Fino + Bleed from the XPress office a month ago and it’s been on repeat in my stereo since. In that time, I was demoted at XPress for standing up the Trailer Park Boys, almost kicked out of my crib and hung out to dry by the girl I was seeing. Not since I spent too much time listening to Motley last year or Buckcherry the year before has an album controlled my every action like Fino + Bleed this September. Call me a method writer, call me crazy, call me whatever the hell you want. I lost myself while preparing for this interview. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say it was messy.
By the time Vlad, Alex and I met up with Die Mannequin’s front-woman, Care Failure, and the matriarch of Ottawa’s Warner branch, Mary Jelley, it felt like the last day of a long tour – and in Ottawa on a Sunday to boot! I was sweating week-old liquor out of a month-old playoff beard, trying all the while to focus on my subject with eyes wide shut. It was destined to be a night that went down in my biography, or my obituary.
A bright sun beaming down on a late summer day, the three of us settled on shooting outside, where we set up in the shadows of Scotiabank Place and rolled on it. The interview went well, even though I looked and felt like total shit. I don’t get nervous during interviews, still, standing next to Care, it felt like my heart could, at any time, collapse and cave into my chest. After we finished the interview, Vlad took Care aside and managed to trap a dozen amazing pictures in just a few minutes. Though we went well over our allotted time limit, both Care and Mary were totally cool with the whole process. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: If all labels had a Mary Jelley, the world would be a better place.
A couple hours later, Die Mannequin blew the lid of Scotiabank. Watching Care rip it up, I knew that all the shit I’d gone through getting ready for the interview was well worth it. At that moment, I couldn’t care less if I was, as Care writes in Caroline Mescaline, “just another rock casualty.” Marilyn Manson closed the night out with a killer set, yet it didn’t seem to matter. This night was about Die Mannequin, not Manson; it was about Canada, not the U.S.; it was about tomorrow, not today.
RLR
Big Thanks: Die Mannequin, Mary Jelley, Mr. Butterscotch, Marilyn Manson, Live Nation, Warner Music Canada, Scotiabank Place


