Find God and friends with religious heavy metal !
22 août 2012 par vincent
THE QUEST FOR PEACE
Since pledging my allegiance to the Eternal Father, I have gone about fulfilling my mission with passion. I observe through my millennium-old eyes the evolution of all that humanity has created, as well as the mortal’s prayers and actions, whether they are redeeming or blasphemous. I also continuously scrutinize the rhythmic waltzing damnations and blessings, as the anthill of human complexity never stops its dance. Throughout the centuries I maintain and generate detachment and at the same time continue my frantic and perplexing emotional quest. So many souls have ended up in hell, so many have prayed to ask for a religious protective grace for a loved one! This ancient ballet has worn me out because this strange emotional desire used to devour me, but I strove to neglect it, through abstinence and abnegation, in order to keep my attention focused on my role of observer from heaven. During my contacts with God, after our collective masses in the kingdom of heaven, He counseled me with subtleness. These exchanges became customary and managed to appease me.
I dedicated myself entirely to listening to and transmitting each prayer that was essential to the faith in our fatherland. For a while I also became, in addition to my never-neglected role, a spectator of the mechanical expression of religious services, with a military style rhythm, spreading my wings and lighting up my eyes with immortal fire. Children had fun trying to distract the dogmatic Sunday church process to the point that parents’ disciplining yells were added to the sound of the hymns; and after each amen sung by the congregation threats and punishments were heard below the singing. All that surely did not contribute to a warm church atmosphere, thus it is not surprising that the different generations –after a long line of evolution – despised faith and our ancient existence, in rebellion. Believing in the love of God, in eternal life, and in the respect of ancestral religious beliefs became guilt-producing and reprehensible heresies these days. Strictly rhythmic dogmatic traditions engendered nihilistic revolution so that humans believe and declare themselves free. God, however, has never imposed any obstacles threatening to burn people in the eternal fire in hell, consuming mortal souls forever. Yet, Christian religion has become obsolete today, synonymous to a redeeming commercial marketing strategy always under the threat of being abandoned or even damned! Religion is also a lucrative lure for tourism – beyond Scripture, gospel, our fatherland has become a carnival. At church, I hear the puppets recite the dogmas like a dictation while certain parents try to put out the beginning of fires sparkled by their amateur arsonist-out-of-boredom offspring. The priests continue their preaching, well awake, giving grace to God for having survived and repenting for napping during Sunday sermons.
In one of my reports to God, He amicably suggested that I go observe outside the churches to better understand human nature, unknown by all, including us, for example rock concerts. I did so and went to a huge crowded room for a concert by the band Korn, full of young people in quest of an identity in this conformist world. I stared with my immortal look spreading my wings, at the artistic devotion of author and singer Jonathan Davis, exorcising and exposing his torments with an exaltation in his voice going from violent to innocent, with his expressive face and the proud exposure of his apparent difference from the others with his tenebrous tattooed arms and his look of rock Goth prophet. I was able to read in his soul the terrible suffering he exorcised through his texts, his music, and his outcries. He really displayed his talent as well as his grace with the song ‘hollow life’. This song just pierced, transported, overwhelmed, and fascinated me. It felt like this artist had unknowingly been able to read my ancient soul. The more he strived to sing ‘hollow life’, the more I realized that suffering and trauma can engender beauty and purity. Pain brings mortals closer to God. Being close to death makes humans more vulnerable with such a complete frankness so as to not upset God, because feeling close to the end they become more respectful of Christ’s redeeming sacrifice. I understood why the most fervent church-goers were the aged ones. Having to face their fears or horrors, the miscreants suddenly remember God, so they no longer provoke their Father and pray wholeheartedly for godly protection. That’s when they really get a taste of their existence. Jonathan Davis electrifies the concert hall with the artistic expression of his existential pain.
Suddenly my eyes detect Solange, a magnificent young woman with the smoothest skin and longest brown hair. She’s dressed in a very refined Gothic style. Despite her rings and tenebrous tatoos, her fragility and the purity of her eyes immediately struck me. How could I fight these emotional waves which were eating me away? Taking her in my arms, feeling her fragility all safe in my arms became my self-destroying drug. I felt lost, confused. In order to detach myself a bit I used to go observe the multiple carnages of armed high school students in the afternoons at their high schools with my Christian look of fire and my spread wings, in silence; or the territorial war conflicts which were once the cradle of Christ and also the violent riots enflaming the ghettos between young gangs and the police force. Be it flames, bullets or hatred, human nature’s disgrace remains eternal. These scenes just increased the delicious taste of dreaming to touch Solange’s heart, my sweet and lovely Goth, whose affection could be my redeeming balance. I used to observe Solange during her evenings at Gothic clubs in which frenzy always invaded the place, the violent and dark electronic music and the supercharged atmosphere never bored me. I contemplated young people’s disgrace and excess, who found a protective refuge in this bawdiness in order to exist through the rebellion against the conformist norms of social propaganda. But I also delighted in Solange’s magnificence, who remained seated observing this anarchy, sipping a glass of cherry vodka. Despite the frantic, exulting deafening effect of this music, Solange’s sight always managed to appease me like an infusion of redeeming morphine. I hoped to have the opportunity to delicately hold her hand and feel her disturbing fragility, which makes my soul very vulnerable to the slightest sentimental stabbing. Inhaling her sweet, intoxicating perfume made me spread my wings and dream about feeling her delicate sighs against my body, all trusting. The illusion of hearing the rhythm of her heartbeat rejoiced me to the point of forgetting my rigorous detachment. I followed Solange in her religious escapades in churches, cathedrals and numerous historic cemeteries. Through my eternally burning eyes and spreading my wings I followed every gesture and tried to read devotedly in the heart of my loved one. Watching Christian tombs with her, ancient crucifixes and religious paintings reminded me of our celestial fatherland’s grace.
As soon as she got home, she listened to Korn. Hollow life could be heard in her room. Hearing this music and seeing Solange in a meditative state intoxicated me. The religious voices accompanying Jonathan Davis’s voice plunged me intensely into the magnificence of the heavenly kingdom where seraphims sang during purifying services. The lyrics from hollow life are a masterpiece, both from the point of view of its thoughts as well as with the beauty of the meaning of the words used so conscientiously. How could Jonathan Davis have perceived the multiple emotional agonies that devour my peers and me inside out, this mortal’s opinion having lost his faith, alone in his suffering? It’s probably in death that mortals can find their redeeming peace, because in this chaotic anthill nobody shows tolerance or justice towards one another. Those who do not belong to the modern flock are ridiculed before being worn out with persecution and burned. Mortals use sawed-off shotguns for revenge or for dominating a binge party in those clubs where hard liquor dictates their conscience on an existential tight rope. The bling decadence, the sinful debauchery and the enflamed riots in the ghettos are a metaphor because what is paradisiacal for modern human beings looks like contempt for hell already prophesied through word of mouth to us biblical messengers of eternity.
In the meantime I contented myself with observing Solange with tenderness, under the delicious melody of hollow life, when suddenly her boyfriend showed up. The shock was brutal, explosive at the core of my soul, stabbed in its vulnerability. My burning eyes lit up and watched their gentle and bonding embraces. Personally I felt betrayed by the poisonous thorns of existence. Neither one was responsible, only my emotions made me guilty and gnawed at me ferociously with the acid bitterness of being and feeling. Jonathan Davis’s lyrics suddenly took on a second sense. Now it was me who was looking for God’s comfort for my lonely distress and I hoped to find peace by burying my tormenting sensitivity. But how? I fell into the trap of a stalking predatory romance and my soul was bleeding intensely. Despite everything, I continued to spy on Solange with a mix of passion and bitterness. Her magnificence never stopped troubling me and became a destructive yet necessary drug for me. My taste for Solange turned when she became tender, under my immortal eyes, with her boyfriend. My rage and incessant tears filled up my silent and abstract existence in vain, my vulnerability forfeited.
Thus, I turned to observing Jonathan Davis’s violent expressionism, who yelled his past pain in order to charm the unleashed and loving audience. The rage, this artist’s Gothic appearance and the tenebrous tattoos under the enflamed guitars brought revenge for me like condolences from this prophetic rock star. I spread out my wings, lit up my burning eyes and from my observation place, staring at Jonathan Davis, sang sanctified funerary praises and requests for forgiveness that we angels learn during our celebrations in heaven. My performance attracted many other angels, who observed me fascinated. While I observed the mechanical religious church services in bitter silence, the angels who had appeared while I was singing my acid pain songs during Jonathan Davis’s concerts spread the rumors of my torments and my performances throughout heaven. When it reached God’s ears, He asked me to expose my sufferings during our religious services. I talked about my thorny feelings in front of the eternal Father’s immortal messengers, who listened fascinated and in awe. Then I told them about Jonathan Davis’s lyrics and ended up singing hollow life, which always touched my peers and God. All applauded and then God invited them to pray for peace in my soul. I observed my peers concentrating on praying for my serenity and their solidarity delighted me. In romance I found a death sentence, but among my brothers and via my exposed suffering, inspired by the esoteric furor of Jonathan Davis, I found celestial peace worthy of our holy fatherland.
THE STOVEFEST
Marilyn and his artist friends, Joey, Ozzy and Jonathan, after some discussion, have decided to leave for Nice with a common project which is quite exiting: to create a joint album called Stovefest. The aim is to support Sister Rachel’s non-profit The Economic Stove. They land at Nice airport and the security gate goes berserk. The entranced security guards forget about their jobs and all they want is to get some autographs. With all their Christian and Heavy Metal hardware the metal detector rings incessantly but the guy is so enthralled by the world famous Rock Stars that he completely forgets about his job and the deafening noise created by my hero and his friends’ rings, crosses and bracelets. The machine overheats and the batteries die… this commotion at the airport greatly amuses my friends. Some passengers take pictures with their cell phones while there’s great huffing and puffing at the end of the long waiting lines. The policemen and some staff members have their picture taken with the artists. There’s a big mess and a “trumpeted” entry! “Fuck! 60 years after the Beatles, is this display for us?” says Ozzy amused. “60 years after is the kingdom of the Dracula ghetto,” jokes Marilyn. “We’re going to evangelize all the churches in town à la arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon. Psalm heavy metal of the 4 knights of the apocalypse, which is us.”
Once settled at Jean Marie’s Friar Convent, Yves Marie shows up totally euphoric. He comes to their meeting, they congratulate each other and there’s an obvious festive atmosphere and heavy metal complicity between Marilyn, Yves Marie and the newcomers. “Did you know that Yves Marie is the Chaplain for artist, therefore, our Chaplain?” asks Marilyn. “He’s addicted to our art and listens to all our respective albums. He’s broadcast my song Antichrist Superstar during christenings right in front of speechless parents, and Rape me by Nirvana during marriages! My friend Yves Marie has contributed to a goddamn good atmosphere at church that even caused riots.” “You have kicked ass with all your pilgrims. You should come to the US to say Sunday morning mass life on Fox News,” says Ozzy. “How about evangelizing the Grammy Awards?” asks Joey, “just to biblically inflame the American audiences?” Yves Marie is quite amused. “How could I not give in to the Rock’n Roll temptation?!” he says. “That really gets me. If I didn’t have any church obligations here you’d be my favorite of the entire congregation,” he says. “Heavy metal religious blessings enough to destabilize puritanical America, money back guarantee,” adds Jonathan. Suddenly Brother Robert slowly crosses the room and greets those present. Marilyn, with his black mitten with a crucifix on the front, replies while beating his chest and exposing his Gothic rings. “I think his Energiser batteries are totally dead,” says Ozzy while observing Brother Robert. Marilyn mischievously turns towards Yves Marie and says: “Between you and our sulfurous reputations of damned outcasts from heaven, the mass is certainly going to be electrified and the congregation is going to run amok. Christ may graciously admit us into His Kingdom and thus the sound-track of paradise will be shock-rock instead of rave-parties with the snobs from 5th Avenue in New York.” Marilyn explains, just as Brother Michel shows up enthusiastically and exchanges some words with my hero, before leave the room with the smile and the traditional military salute of Marilyn.
The four rock stars are invite for the Dominican service at the evening, the priests asked to Marilyn to read some gospels and testify. Marilyn’s delighted and agreed with the euphoria of his friends. The mass was attended by a mix of traditionalists and passive worshippers. Marilyn observes the whole of the cathedral. The agitation, the bustle and the controversial whispering make him both smile and give him a certain apprehension regarding his speech. He turns towards Ozzy, Joey and Jonathan “Well, I think I can speak, I don’t see a single tech 9 or AK47 concealed anywhere. Let’s hope they don’t all get up at once during my speech and hold up their bibles with purifying crucifixes,” he says, “provided the radio stations haven’t broadcast personnal Jesus during their drive here, otherwise the arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon will mark the rhythm of the mass under my redeeming prayers.”
Then the preacher invites my hero to speak. The latter gets up and concentrates before speaking with grace while captivating the stunned audience, which reassures Marilyn. “Live your lives,” he begins, “and don’t let the media, publicity and the commercial society dictate to you and impose upon you. They’re only interested in profits, and statistics about your sufferings, in order to commercialize your emotions labeled as acceptable. That is why today’s youth is striving in excess with drugs, looking for an artificial paradise. You’re probably wondering why I’m saying this while I myself have brushed against and flirted with these substances. Well, you see, it’s precisely because of my personal experience that I have some insight into this. If, by revealing my own experience and speaking here today thanks to the kindness of the Dominican Brothers, I can show you the line never to be crossed and in the process save some kids, then it means I remain a child of God. This message is not commercial and I’m not a saint, I agree, but we all have a right to redemption and repentance thanks to Christ’s gift on Mount Golgotha! Today’s real artificiality is imposed by publicity and marketing slogans; that is what pushes our youth towards the fall into this Dante style inferno. This is not what we think, but it’s the controversial truth which I have learned throughout my fiery career. My words here today must not remain within these walls, they must be shared. We won’t revolutionize the world following my songs, but just becoming aware of the human soul which is ours and it is everybody’s responsibility to preserve it and it protects our people. Jesus said in the Book of Gospels that every single good action done to a person in distress is an action done to Jesus Himself. If I had known about all modern society’s suffering, which I’ve learned about throughout my life, I wouldn’t have had the adrenaline to massively scare my dogmatic and fundamentalist detractors and I wouldn’t have had to suffer from all the death threats I’ve received. I even flirted with the grim reaper with a kiss à la JFK! Local exorcist companies’ profits have rocketed as well as their client list during my apocalyptic campaign, where I roused believers as a vengeance, due to my strict religious education at an apocalyptic Christian school. The result was broadcast on MTV, the arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon was my angelus and the Dracula ghetto my community refuge. However, I am just a soul wounded by the barbarity of existence, one amongst many others, even if I have survived all religious attacks,” he says under the applause of the entire congregation before reading a passage from the Gospels with great emotion.
Marilyn wakes up at 5:30 am and drinks a coffee while eyeing the icons and the crucifix in the dining room. He hears small discrete steps and Brother Robert enters, disguised as a bling-bling rapper from the Bronx with his hooded sweatshirt. He greets Marilyn, who does the same by holding his hand against his chest, with his special black mittens which incorporate crucifixes. He also wears a representative tenebrous chromed bracelet and showing his gothic rings and says with a smile: “Alleluia, represent from the Dracula ghetto.” Marilyn takes his friends to the Sainte Réparate Basilica. Together they start their creative act of writing their collective disc. They elaborate the religious tone of the album under my hero’s direction.
Then they are disturbed by comments or insistent and hostile looks from fundamentalist priests. “Reverend Monsignor”, says Marilyn, “I believe you are protesting as a member of the evangelic network. You know, the one which has announced the prophetic coming of an efficient Baptist sniper who is supposed to kill me on stage in the near future! Unfortunately I didn’t have time to get all the details I burnt myself while incinerating the death threat letters on stage at the Ozzfest.” “What a fucking great moment,” says Ozzy. “The fire provoked a hell of a mess among the festival-goers. And my wife, Sharon, had organized the whole thing! The paranoid cops and Christian demonstrators screaming bloody murder outside went completely nuts during the chaos. They acted like they had all dropped some acid. What a fucking hell of a riot the concert was! You really missed something.” “That circus really interrupted our Ozzfest,” says Joey smiling. “All your evangelical buddies rushing the stage to protest…you were lucky my eight Slipknot brothers and I were euphorically mellow after having won a platinum disc, otherwise we would have kicked some ass, chopped up those fundies and thrown the body chunks to the Ozzfest audience.”
Marilyn smiles and stares at them stoically with his tenebrous look. “Oh, yes, I didn’t pay attention to that detail,” he says, “I was so focused on entertaining my fans! By the way, my fans really dug my performance, especially when I lit the insulting letters on stage, including the evangelical flyers. That really calmed them down. Repent, it's the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon from the Dracula ghetto. Please let us continue spreading the gospel with our evangelical musical for my very dear religious friend, Sister Rachel. Unless by chance you want an autograph?” “And this time don’t boycott us anymore, as this is a noble cause, got it?” says Joey. Marilyn outbids « You unfaithful sinners, hear the bells toll the arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon, as written in the prophecy of the Dracula Ghetto,” says Marilyn with his tenebrous eye fixated on them. “We are the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; we’re here to present the bill for your venial sins. We’re going to blast your traditional doctrines with blessed vitriol from Jerusalem’s gas stations.” “Your stupid heads are too big to be decapitated right away! The fucking pigeons that I once gobbled down at a press conference had definitely more fucking taste than your radical values,” says Ozzy. “Unless we send them to Kaboul by Fedex for the end of the Ramadan of the extremist jihadists, of course adding some salt to make them easier to swallow!” Marilyn adds, showing his chromed teeth while the frightened fundamentalist priests sign themselves and pray. “We could shoot a remake of Friday 13 before jerking off live during the Oscars ceremony; it creeps the hell out of me.” “Hell yeah motherfuckers, we’ll be the four jerkoffs photographed by all the paparazzi,” states Joey, making the priests flee. Then they go back to their writing of the Stovefest, getting inspiration from the upcoming religious service.
During lunch Jean Marie informs Marilyn and his friends that a mass of radical believers – who disturbed his work as prison chaplain – intend to attend the daily mass. Marilyn, Joey and Ozzy propose to direct the mass themselves while Jonathan develops the music for Sister Rachel’s album. All the fundamentalists and the elderly coldly take a seat. Joey, from his hiding place in the Sacristy plays People = shit live version. The elderly are astonished while the fundamentalists see red. Ozzy shows up waving a crucifix in his ringed hand. “You came here to atone for your sins, fucking assholes?” He says furiously, “We are your worst nightmare, so repent!” Joey looks through his CDs and then plays Marilyn's better of two evils through the church’s PA system. He helps Marilyn get into his Death Pope costume. The fundamentalists are appalled and dismayed. When ready he takes his Bible and adjusts his multiple rings. They look at each other with joyful complicity. Then Joey, smiling maliciously, plays the chorus of another song, 1996. As soon as the chorus starts Marilyn leaves the backstage and stoically walks towards the altar. “Angelus of the Dracula Ghetto, this is the hour of your Last Judgment and the Apocalypse will come.” He crosses himself exposing his chromed teeth before waving the Bible in front of the dumbfounded fundamentalists’ faces. “Christian repentance and flames from Hell: that will be your punishment. You pack of sinners. How dare you stigmatize the redeeming acts of a prison chaplain? We’re going to devour you.” Joey plays Spit it out, laughing out loud. “Choose to be absolved and leave the prison chaplain in peace. Get down on your knees and pray to the Lord dammit, let every miscreant here present repent on his knees……or else!” says Marilyn. Joey plays precisely psycho social in this moment. All fundamentalists as well as the elderly flee from the church.
In the evening Marilyn and his friends have dinner with Jean Marie, Brother Michel and Yves Marie in warm complicity and enjoying their little vengeance in support of Jean Marie. “Honestly,” says Joey, “I’ve never dared to feel at ease playing rock’n roll with religious people. We may have gotten revenge for you but I really loved playing heavy metal DJ during mass in a church! No journalist is going to believe us… you priests sure are something, by God!” “Fuck, I thought the elderly were going to faint right there and then,” smiles Ozzy. “From now on you can expect exorcisms during Sunday mass,” says Marilyn smiling. “given your new sulfurous church image. We are quite familiar with the eternal evangelist slogans from the activists who protest at our concerts. They will throw up their Ave Marias nonstop in your faces and reforming Angelus, all remixed. But no worries, at the slightest protest you just send them our music through the PA system and show them a huge blown up picture of us four with this inscription: Go to Texas to sing Gospel with the Ku Klux Klan, here we enjoy the heavy metal plenitude of the biblical arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon.” “Ah, a whole congregation of archimandrites is in full swing,” says Brother Martin while crossing the room. They all smile amused. They answer with Marilyn’s specific greeting, like soldiers. Marilyn looks at the Father with great affection through his Gothic eye lens. “Indeed, my dear friend, we’re planning a Gothic religious repentance in front of all our baptized detractors,” says Marilyn smiling. “We’re going to continue what the Brits did in Ireland. This is what we’re going to set up: Suicidal Sunday! We’re going to create such an artistic marketing campaign of our heavy metal gospel that Sister Rachel’s association will shame le Negresco restaurant in Nice. Sister Olga will be able to put good use of her talent in the security department for the masses of homeless that will come in swarms for their meals. “Great! We’ll pray to Jesus all together! Good night my archimandrite friends!” answers Brother Martin. Marilyn and his friends continue working on the Stovefest with feedback from their religious hosts.
Dita lands in Nice, Marilyn plays her guide, and they go to see Yves Marie’s paintings – delighted – before moving on to Sister Rachel’s association the economic stove. “We close at 5.00. But we’re out of coffee,” says Sister Olga. Dita looks at the clock, which says 3.50 pm. “Is she the famous nun who advises the anti-riot forces you told me about?” she asks to Marilyn, lowering her voice. “Absolutely, even anarchist and nihilist punks have nightmares when they see her at the ATM withdrawing money with her credit card. As for the home boys, they keep their distance. She’s as radical and efficient as a Stalingrad bombing”. Dita is introduced to the whole team, some of whom want to show her how to play their card game, belote. Marilyn and Dita accept. The atmosphere is festive and they have a lot of fun, which makes the noise level go up. “Please keep the sound low, you are in a public place and we’re about to close,” says sister Olga sharply. “My God, the arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon is around the corner! This nun is a juicy combination of a hyper-punctual Swiss civil servant with his hyper-accurate Swiss watch and a sanctified Energiser bunny, full of vitality guarding the famous cave at Lourdes where the Virgin Mary appeared, keeping away the hordes of tourists equipped with high-tech cameras who’ve come to see her. Sister Olga must have studied at the Seminar in Afghanistan during the Soviet bombings. As a child, I went through hell during my school years at the Heritage Christian School, which is a hardcore trash punk version of the Vatican. But, since I preach, there are masses of professional Evangelist snipers hounding my butt and death threats every Christmas Eve, so I wreck bibles on stage to challenge them. What an esoteric sinecure, alleluia!” jokes Marilyn. He talks with Sister Rachel for a while, who remains very attentive, in an atmosphere of complicity, and then they go to Jean Marie’s church.
They sit down and contemplate meditatively the painting of Christ. Dita is charmed by the place. “It sure is a great change from Hollywood parties, where you run into teen idols that are completely plastered, drugged and deformed by the excesses of modern life. The same goes for the parties where home boys shoot at other guys who have parked their cars in the wrong space, at their dealers for being rather stingy or at their girlfriends for cheating on them in other BMW convertibles. I feel sorry for the guys who have to clean up the mess in the morning. This church is remarkable. Too bad they can’t play my music,” says Marilyn smiling, “it would create a goddamn motherfucking contrast!” The congregation arrives for the mass and stares at Marilyn and Dita, who stare back at them. Marilyn’s gothic eye and malevolent gothic rings have its effect. “Finally! We’ve been waiting for the religious fanatics’ parade for ages. My dear girlfriend here with me didn’t want to believe me when I told her that you brought your palm branches only to shove them in my face, in the name of the holy Catholic Church. All this during mass, so that the priests had to call the cops, who in turn threw tear gas bombs into the church and beat us in order to divide us, before taking us to the police station. Because I attend mass with my girlfriend, forget about your tazers and esoteric insults for today, if only so I can keep her safe. So, please no riots today, give me a break for arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon’s sake. And no flirting with my girlfriend after your communion, please!” says Marilyn. Dita smiles while the worshippers remain speechless and settle down dumbstruck.
Back in the US together with Yves Marie, the four rock stars go to the studio. Joey starts his drums sessions quite aggressively under Jonathan’s alert surveillance. Marilyn takes Yves Marie for a visit of the city of angels. They discreetly attend a traditional service at a puritanical evangelist church. While the organ player plays, hostile looks replace prayers directed at my hero, who is dressed as a Gothic angel, wearing his rings, bracelets and tenebrous eye lens. “Your pianist is really something! Could we borrow him for a Gothic religious album with my damned friends in your strict schools, just to rehabilitate us?” asks Marilyn crossing himself. “Besides, your repertoire is heavy metal. Your organ will perfectly accompany my voice from Hell when I yell with agony about redemption for the fools that each Christmas Eve mail me death threats, 9 mm bullets or make diverse bomb attacks during my touring! Could you please try to get some publicity in other churches for the album that my banned friends and I are recording for a religious friend of ours? Support the Dracula ghetto by buying our CD and I’d also like to requisition your talented organist, please. In fact, we’ve been chosen in the listings for the next MTV awards, so don’t bother demonstrating in front of the studio reciting your Marian prayers and the Archangel Michael’s arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon as a slogan. The cops are equipped with dissuasive tear gas. Furthermore, a friend of ours and volunteer from the nonprofit will be in town and if try to storm the ceremony in order to insult us, we’ll let her ferocious dog attack you so you can be seen being devoured live on MTV during primetime. This is just friendly advice! If you offend us, you’ll be Bibi’s snack. Bibi is the mastiff that normally watches her house in Nice. And believe me, even the cops in charge of security perimeter have complained to their union representatives of the LA police. Some cops prefer to take bullets from Tech 9s and Uzi machine guns from the home boys and the Mexican mafia rather than approach Bibi. That cuts you, huh? All the religious people in Nice have overloaded the switchboard to vote so we carry off the award. There has been massive solidarity preached at church on Sunday mass. In each sermon it was about each opponent or detractor being kidnapped and burned at the stake like during the Medieval Inquisition: Christ myths, for God’s sake!”
Some fundamentalists take out their rosaries and start praying. Marilyn stare them with his gothic eye and crossing himself exposing all his tenebrous rings “That’s really nice of you to pray for us. We’ll need all the support you can give us, Dracula ghetto represent!” says Marilyn. “Do a miracle and encourage the uncooperative cops because of Bibi and increase the number of plain-clothes cops during our future tours, just to avoid headstrong snipers trying to kill me and my friends on stage. Convert them to our Christian tenebrous religion, like the concept of my next record born villain, all resurrected with enflamed heavy metal cantics like theses Te Deum remixed Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon style of the Dracula ghetto churches, as the born-agains!! As Gothic Reverend I bless your compassionate praise!” The organist speaks up and says he’s in favor of playing in the Stovefest album. “Amen, brother! I’ll give you the day and the address so that you can show off your talent after mass. In the meantime, balance the sound and enflame the mass arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon style. We passed on our message and we don’t want to disturb the service. We are very conventional, don’t think the opposite,” says Marilyn. The preacher arrives at the altar in a daze. “All my respect, Father!” Marilyn says. Marilyn goes to see his friend, the rapper Eminem, and tell him about the concept of the Stovefest for Sister Rachel. “Of course I’ll support the project! You’re the only goddamn Gothic heavy metal Reverend capable of pissing off those evangelist, puritan and fundamentalist moralizers,” says Eminem. “Gospel from the Dracula ghetto churches. Prophesied by a preacher from Eight Mile Road,” says Marilyn. “Let’s go to Sunday mass to exorcise them and their reforming dogmas with high pressure holy water guns. We will protest outside the churches during mass like a demonstration from Christian hell. We’ll hold up bibles instead of protest signs with the slogan Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon to protect ourselves and we’ll preach our gospel on MTV and boost the sales of our disc. This hardcore biblical riot will reveal our alternative faith to God himself. He will hear our stage screams as prayers: born villain! It’s the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon from the Dracula ghetto.”
Later Marilyn checks the security cameras screens in the kitchen of his property, while chewing on a cheeseburger and drinking absinthe. “This is better than the reality shows which we’re bombarded with,” he says ironically. He finishes eating and keeps a watch with his tenebrous look, next to Yves Marie. Both watch the parade of fans who take pictures of the house, when a paparazzo arrives and prepares his equipment before climbing the property’s walls. Marilyn dresses up as a pope, takes his Bible, a crucifix and a chain saw from the garage. He appears suddenly and vigorously and promptly ecclesiastical and scares the paparazzo, who is startled at his sight. Marilyn looks at him with his gothic eye and showing his Bible, his crucifix and his tenebrous rings. “God bless you for this offering! Admit your redemption, the abnegation and repent because you are a sinner paparazzo, so here’s your arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon.” The guy is really scared but he still tries to get an exclusive picture, he machine guns Marilyn with his camera, Marilyn points at him and starts his chain saw while smiling sadistically staring at him fiercely through his lens. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, the antichrist us going to have his little snack at home, cannibal fast food and fleshflesh are efficient, good God! My prayers have been answered by Christ, alleluia, motherfuckers, Jesus bless this freshly served meal,” says Marilyn to the paparazzo, who stumbles over scared to death and tumbles down head over foot. Marilyn approaches waving his chain saw vigorously. The photographer, by pure survival instinct, flees very quickly and manages to get to his car in one piece, looking behind him, because Marilyn comes out – armed with his chain saw – dressed as the death pope and exposing his tenebrous rings and eying him glacially. “Reach out and touch faith, goddamn motherfucking amen, my son,” screams fiercely Marilyn, making the paparazzo leave running a red light and immediately being chased by the cops, rotating lights and all.
The CD is launched some months later worldwide. Marilyn stops by Detroit with Eminem, who is now one of his supporters. They cross the Eight Miles. The home boys are stunned by my hero’s retro Gothic elegance, which gives them his traditional military salutation with his Goth Christian mitten and his tenebrously ringed fingers and stares at them with his Gothic eye lens. “Hello. We’re here for a little announcement: Would you be interested in a religious metal CD, whose profit goes to a Christian organization which helps the down and outs?” says Marilyn to the local people who start approaching and buying the CD. “This is not a rip-off. We won’t spend your money on coke or heroin. We’re trying to evangelize dogmatic churches with River Jordan gasoline with a zest of rock’n roll.” All the home boys arrive and take my hero and Eminem around in a bling-bling Cadillacs playing the Stovefest CD full blast through the streets of Detroit. The passers-by exult and greet Marilyn who blesses them: “Alleluia, ghetto Dracula is in the square.” They arrive in front of the armed youngsters who’re seeking trouble. Marilyn comes out of the Cadillac holding the Stovefest CD in his hands. “Hey, guys, what would you say about supporting a Christian nonprofit?” he says. “Instead of getting crucified in jail, just play our music full blast at the police stations. Besides following the example of Public Enemy, you can help my religious friend and stop feeding into what the Ku Klux Klan preaches around a burning cross! With our album Stovefest, we’re going to revolutionize conventional minds by remixing heavy metal with hymns and psalms from all republican churches in Texas. Even the Huntsville prison guards will be going on strike because of the guys on death row who will sing this album while they get their lethal injections. We’re going to drive them nuts! It’s much better to support my friend sister Rachel, instead that making racial riots in jail” The home boys calm down and buy a copy of Stovefest and have Marilyn sign it for them.
Back in LA, Marilyn and Ozzy go to the fundamentalist church and listen to the preacher blame them with all kinds of apocalyptic accusations. Marilyn displays his dark look circulating under the hostile murmuring due to their blasphemous presence in this magnificent church. Marilyn stares at two old fundamentalist ladies and hurls « don't worry; the Apocalypse is not scheduled for today! Nostradamus was drunk when he dreamt it, so the Antichrist superstar is going to remain seated calmly and listen to mass, so I beg you, don't be afraid » Then he looks at Ozzy, smiling « my mailbox is going to become overloaded with apocalyptic death threats because of my presence here! But at least that's going to lower the unemployment rate for security guards and cops in charge of watching if there are any pro-lifers – equipped with napalm explosives and AK 47 – hidden in my next tours to kill me and appear non-stop on Fox News so that their buddies can jerk off while rewinding the reports. Besides, I'd have a hard time selling my discs and my record label would go broke if these morons gunned me down! » he jokes knowing that he's the main target for fundamentalist Christians, before watching the unfolding of the mass which is about to start.
The priest says his sermon about the place of Marilyn in our cultural and media-centered society. MTV is a channel banned by the love of the Father, as it broadcasts non-stop the video-clips of my hero, who smiles and says « damn it, I'm popular everywhere in the world! Planetary rockstar on MTV and underground artist in churches. My parents are going to be so proud of me! » Then he listens with interest to the litany of verbal abuse directed at him. “It’d be great to have a concert in this place: the resonance, the paintings, the stained glass windows and the crucifix. A hellish biblical concert, for Christ’s sake.” Some devotees notice Marilyn and stare at him with horror. “The damned are back, the Apocalypse is near and we’re all going to die!” says Marilyn showing his chromed teeth and crossing him. Marilyn gets up and shows the congregation the Stovefest. “Excuse me for interrupting you, but rather than doing an educational hardcore remake for your biblical chain saw massacre parishes, would you be so kind as to not spend all your money on the Bahamas and invest in the purchase of our CD from the Dracula ghetto?” he asks before trying to sell copies on the sly. “Are there any potential buyers in the church? Cash only, please. We are not equipped for credit cards. Sorry about this inconvenience, but we have to do without.” Ozzy backs him up in front of the congregation, which starts insulting them. The next day the four rock stars attend the MTV awards. At the end they receive an ovation. “Blessed be Sister Rachel, we’re going to revolutionize the angelus in all the conservative churches à la arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon and Sister Olga is on holiday!” screams Marilyn – like a Goth apocalyptic dictator with his traditional military black hat. “Stovefest motherfuckers, from all four apocalyptic riders from the Dracula ghetto.” The audience applause.
The CD is launched some months later worldwide. Marilyn for the promotion goes from interview to interview in a church, the whole media waltz from afar. Marilyn is relaxed. He proudly shows his rings, tattoos and dark menacing stares, a paradox in the calm peaceful church. “I may be representative of the Dracula ghetto but I love this church and the magnificent millennium old Gothic churches very much. They have an immortal attraction for me. Besides, I’m a fan of Jesus Christ. The first marketing object that was massively commercialized was the cross. They are as representative of churches as of graveyards. Thus, all part of the profit from this record will go to the association of an excellent friend of mine, Sister Rachel: the Economic Stove. Regarding the message of my approaching tour it will be question yourselves. Do you believe that because you go to church every Sunday at 9h30, that you confess loudly your sins in order to be absolved and when you go out your daily thoughts gain the upper hand and you sin and you come back at 9h30 the next Sunday morning for the absolution, this is called a cycle, one deserves forgiveness it’s nothing owed! What a goddamn motherfucking paradox for all those fundamentalist Christians when they view this interview of the Antichrist superstar, which takes place inside this church! It’ll be hard for them to convince their kids that I represent the Apocalypse, especially in those traditional Catholic schools, including the Héritage Christian School. My old teachers will be facing riots amongst my fans against those hard core biblical fanatics. All things considered, it’ll be the Armageddon in conservative America; it’d be surprising if in that case my anthem of the Christian heavy metal prayers motherfucker, doesn’t win the Grammy awards! As Gothic Reverend, I will preach for Sister Rachel the tenebrous hymns of the raising of the damned under an esoteric requiem of suicide death metal in the very heart of the churches,” says Marilyn. "Mass will be mixed in the Arma-goddamn-motherfucking-geddon style. I will welcome all Catholics and company with great conviction. I will exorcise them: born villain style ! Their signs with reforming slogans will burn struck by Molotov cocktails in the name of the Apocalypse marketing of my artistic rock. I will thus hold the Gothic religious standard of our counter-culture and I will unleash all hell until we reach the biblical riot right at the center of your holy commercial prayers. Amen.” He smiles.
When the album is released, he will promote it in Sharon Osbourne’s show. He arrives triumphantly and settles on the couch, she throws a funny remark at him to break the ice: “Here’s father Marilyn Manson, cross you, please”. “Your show’s a nice change for me; everybody treats me with such care while on the conservative chains, the journalists drool with the idea of being tear-gassed and kicked out by the security. It’s a question of virility”. “Here you’re the king, right?” (Marilyn accepts the ovation from the crowd) “You see? You’re safe here.” “So many long years where I have tangled with crazy fans that were throwing beer bottles and were shooting birds at me. But I was mostly the target of evangelist republican snipers assigned by their Baptist church! I believe that Sister Olga would make a very efficient bodyguard for my tours if I hired her. She would sweep away all these fundamentalists who are a pain on the neck protesting at my concerts. She would be capable of giving a good lesson to Afghan jihadists, so imagine what she can do to the evangelist puppets who want to kill me. Sister Olga would make them repent. You know as a kid Alice Cooper is an artist who helped me escape from my strict Christian school, the Heritage Christian School, a school which tried to brainwash us about the myths of the antichrist, the end of the world, basically about the Apocalypse. And Cooper was part of those banned artists because of whom we were condemned to lose our eternal life; even supermarkets were symbols of hell because our ultra-conservative Catholic teachers told us that behind bar codes you could decode the number of the Apocalypse. Now I am the wicked rock star who scares them and who is banned from their kingdom of heaven…we all have our cross to bear. I made the evangelist with their apocalyptic prayers shut up by means of an artistic and commercial bomb. Now my record company will multiply the security around me in my churches, so that I can spread the good word, that of the blasphemed antichrist, who becomes the Pope of Rock. At present I am a danger to my country, I’m moralizing America’s worst nightmare, but I’m also… profitable!! Sister Olga would be a millionaire ridiculing Who wants to be a millionaire? I’d rather be here than at a Snoop Dogg concert where all those home boys whack a fan who insults them while the cops smoke up the room with tear gas. In my biblical services all acclaim me like that. (He shoots a bird) I hope my plane is not going to crash because of the evangelical prayers at church. But with this new album, I want to pay homage to Vincent Blénet and his religious friends who are fans of my music, which they listen to full blast in their convent. This album has a myth, a religion: the Christian darkness and in my concerts there will be a combination of rock’n roll and prayer.” (He makes the sign of shock rock) “The Christian heavy metal prayers”, Marilyn jokes smiling.
Sharon continues “how was the meeting with the religious priests and nun at Nice ?” “Jean Marie is the first priest I know who has let me into his monastery without pointing at me with a Bible, a crucifix and a hunting gun while reciting Hail Marys! There are convents and monasteries full of people who are crazy about my art there. I’ve multiplied the number of nuns in my churches. Virgin Megastore’s sales have literally exploded there! Jean Marie, turns up the volume full blast with my music in his monastery; he organizes metal-parties after service, the whole brotherhood dances frenetically at a concert! Some even want to be disciples of my creative art” reply Marilyn “Be in contact with these priests and pray with them, that aren’t they opposed to your campaign about the apocalypse and your image as the Reverend Antichrist of darkness?” “It is much more stimulating for an evangelist to watch me on Fox News killing priests and the faithful during mass with a chain saw than to take a Viagra pill. Saying Marian prayers does not make them more pure and without sin, Sunday mass is now a TV show. The priest who introduced me to his brothers and sisters who are now my fans and who respect my art, this priest is an admirable man. He turns the volume up full blast in his room, to the point that the aged brother danced on Vodevil” “Do you go more often to church now?” Marilyn responds: “Yes, every Sunday old people believe in resurrection and yell: Lord, a corpse has escaped from the cemetery! Or My God, death has come for the Last Judgment. But the kids are funny; they even ask if Snow White is in fact a transvestite in everyday life. Of course I also get the usual eternally dammed, Bible outcast, fucking pervert…so I stare at them and tell them that the Apocalypse is near and that the apostles have forgotten to mention me in the Gospels. But in order to calm down this religious Sunday atmosphere, Dita is with me so all the wives have a hard time trying to re-orient their husbands’ attention towards mass.” Joke Marilyn under the applauses, before relax with his artists’s friends in a club.
I used to wish I could fly, spread my wings and fly away. I'd cross my fingers for a day, wishing for a better way. So take my hands and take me away. I'd close my eyes and even pray, wishing for a better day.
(lyrics from a song written by the band of death metal "suicide silence" : witness the adiction [feat. Jonathan Davis of KORN])
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