Garbage

From The Illinois Entertainer, June 1998

When I grow up I’ll be stable
When I grow up I’ll turn the tables.”
Shirley Manson croons these words in a sneer so bratty it borders on reform school, letting the venom drip from each drawn-out syllable until her point is crystal-clear, thank you. No need to spell it out. And she doesn’t knuckle under to the throbbing synth/bass line backbeat-she’s right up front in the mix, gunning the throttle, playfully twirling her lyrical irony, a woman fully in control of the sonic situation. The track – “When I Grow Up”-is one of 12 similarly-sassy, brassy pieces on Version 2.0, the sophomore Almo Sounds salvo from multiplatinum alt-pop outfit Garbage. And Scottish lass Manson sure ain’t whistlin’ “Dixie” here. She means every word, with a sharp clawed vengeance.

And yes, the Peter Pan syndrome is certainly a part of her profile, Manson allows. All part of her remarkable Cinderella story, which goes something like this: after years of anonymous struggle in also-ran UK combos Goodbye Mr MacKenzie and the underrated Angelfish, the singer was discovered by Wisconsin studio wunderkind Butch Vig, who had grown weary of producing bands like Nirvana, Sonic Youth, and Smashing Pumpkins.

Drummer/programming whiz Vig and a couple of his Midwest buddies-bassist/guitarist Steve Marker and guitarist/keyboardist Duke Erikson-first saw Manson’s haunting, doe-eyed visage late one night on MTV during the station’s only airing of an old Anglefish video. The “hey-let’s-form-a-band” invite went out: Manson, on a lark, accepted. And the rest- “Vow,” “Queer,” “Stupid Girl,” “Only Happy When It Rains,” “#1 Crush”-is singles (and alterna-scene) history. Oh yeah-there were a few Grammy nominations along the way as well.

In videos and onstage, the troika of regular-Joe Garbagemen purposely keep to the shadows. But their miniskirted, mascaraed frontwoman has quickly become every teen male’s pinup dream, every teen girl’s ultimate rock chick. Growing up, it seemed, would no longer prove such a serious issue. “I don’t know if it’s peculiar to my role as a musician, or just peculiar to me as a person, but I just don’t feel that I’m ever gonna be this grounded, mature, fully-developed adult,” worries Manson, in a burr as thick as the fog on the midnight moors. “But I think that’s one of the thrills about life. You never feel completely sussed, you’ve never really arrived, and you know so little.”

Grow Up is about: even though you think you’re sussed and you’re smart and you’ve worked it all out, you haven’t even got the remotest tinkling of what it’s all about, and you can never hope to. So it’s a real hedonistic song, about enjoying the moment.”

The problem, she continues, is hedonism itself. “I never wanted to be a musician. I never wanted attention. I never dreamed of being something special. Ever. I expected to live a totally average, normal lifestyle, and this is something that’s come absolutely out of the blue for me. I’ve never had these aspirations, and now all of a sudden this incredible adventure has been thrown upon me, and it’s like being in a candy store.”

Not an easy position for someone who’s quick to stress that life is “always about the carnal. Always.’ But Manson swears she’s trying, “I’m struggling to come to terms with it and I’m excited by it and it stimulates me. I just didn’t ever wish for it, and now that it’s happened to me I don’t know what to do with it.” She pauses, thinking, “But I think that it’s probably been good for us as a band.”

Now then Version 2.0. The ambitious disc took over a year to record. Vig, Marker, and Erikson consumed with all of its ponderous bells and whistles, blips and bleeps, sturm und drang. What eventually gelled was a complex set of tracks that parlayed the two key ingredients from the band’s self-titled ’95 debut-Vig’s canny sense of cerebro-pop hooks and Manson’s grim, quasi-Gothic phraseology-into a Wagneian exercise so dense and verdant you practically have to hack your way through it with a machete.

“When I Grow Up” alone shifts tone and tempo in a kaleidoscopic flurry of colors-from tinny faux-Victrola scratches to delicate wah-wah synth notes to a huge crashing crush of a nursery-rhyme chorus. The frothy arrangement crescendos so soda-pop bubbly that it’s easy to miss Manson’s darker themes of perpetual pleasure-seeking adolescence. And that’s just the tip of this shrewd iceberg: each cut cloaks equally cryptic thoughts, thoughts most folks would be uncomfortable consigning to a diary. Thoughts you just don’t like to see written down.

In the New Order-ish “Temptation Waits,” Manson hisses “You come on like a drug/I just can’t get enough/I’m like an addict coming at you for a little more.”

“Push It”-the locomotive-breathed first single-takes that lust to steamy new heights: “This is the noise that keeps me awake/My head explodes and my body aches/Push it!” And God forbid you should ever cross this vengeful vixen. The deceptively sunny “Special” finds her systematically destroying an ex-confidante’s reputation: “I have run you down into the ground/Spread disease about you over town…Now you’re here and begging for a chance/But there’s no way in hell I’d take you back.”

Finally, in the blues-swaggered “Wicked Ways,” she confesses “Lord knows I try to be good/I’d keep my promises if only I could. I’ve done things I never, thought I’d do.” Manson even goes so far as to note-with mild amusement-the subtle hints of mental illness in “I Think I’m Paranoid” is cut that underscores the sentiment with chilly “Twilight Zone” guitar notes). Honest? To a fault. Scary? You Bet.

And those “things” she never she’d do? What were they, pray tell?
“Ha! All kinds of things!” guffaws the magenta-maned minx, who’s currently one rockdom’s most sensual, arresting performers. She lets her response hang in the air just long enough to pique, possibly even titillate. “That line refers to things I’ve done that I regret, and things that I absolutely relish. It has to do with doing both. In your life you do things that… if you’re not proud of, at least you’re not ashamed of.”

It’s not as if she’s lyrically poking the bloated underbelly of life to see what trickles out, she adds. “Darkness just comes, negativity pours down upon you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think everyone feels like that. Everyone suffers from self-doubt and disbelief and fear of death and fear of living. I don’t think I’m unique-this is a very universal problem. And it’s something that in society we don’t really deal with. We don’t talk about it because it terrifies us.”

Why is this 30-year-old from Edinburgh drawn to the darkness instead of …”The jolliness?” she interrupts. She is, after all, the same gal who penned “I’m Only Happy When It Rains” a couple of years back. “I’m totally fascinated by the dark, by the morose, by the intensity. But at the same time, it’s easier to be [morose]. I think to be happy and to really see the positive is incredibly difficult. It’s something that I’ve never been able to achieve, and I would like to think that maybe one day I’m gonna wake up in the morning, look out the window, and think ‘My God! Things are good!”

Then again, pre-Garbage background doesn’t lend itself well to trust, openness, sharing. It all started in high school, she says, long before she signed up with the also-ran outfit Goodbye Mr Mackenzie. “I woke up as a teenager and felt very angry,” she recalls, somberly. “I was constantly wondering ‘Is there somebody out there like me?’ And that’s certainly why I’ve always been a musician-you’re throwing things out to see if somebody’s gonna echo back and say ‘I feel exactly the same!” I think it has to do with loneliness. You’re looking for an echo, and it’s about recognition, about reassurance, and about affirmation. I think that’s what music’s all about.”

Since those early years, Manson has been involved in an on-going battle with low self-esteem. She swears she has “no idea, no idea at all” where it comes from. “And I know that my mother has read some of my interviews and been really upset, devastated in fact, by my comments. She doesn’t understand it, just can’t comprehend where it came from. But it has nothing to do with the way I was brought up. I have a very close and loving relationship with my parents. So I think there was something in me…just. I was a mess. I was a horror. I was a very difficult, displaced teenager. And that’s kind of infected my whole life. I mean, in good ways. I’m not necessarily saying that it was all bad. Sometimes the negative things in life can totally propel you forward.

And that coveted echo Manson was always searching for as a kid? She sighs. “I didn’t find it. So I looked for it in other things. And that’s what drove me to become a member of a band. Singing came from desperation and fear-I don’t think it had anything to do with guts. I just got to the point in my life where I thought ‘You know what? If I don’t get this together, I’m outta here. I’m gonna have to go back and work in a clothes store.”

Now, she cackles, she walks into even the priciest boutiques with newfound confidence: she could, if she wanted, purchase just about any outfit in the place, thanks to Garbage. “The minute you have a successful record, all kinds of things start falling in your lap!” she coos. “Who’d have thought it? Here’s this little Scottish girl who’s all of a sudden being approached by some of the greatest designers in the world! I’ve even been offered Hollywood movies – it’s just insane. The whole thing is insane!”

But Manson has learned to trust. Learned to have faith in her three American cohorts. Learned to have faith in her own songwriting ability. “Version 2.0,” she proudly relates, is “the only record that I’ve ever made where I’ve completely written all the lyrics and come in with full songs and played guitar as well. But I’m still fighting to find some kind of voice, and that’s what brings a certain excitement to this record.”

Though the singer may balk at the idea of growing up, she still has to deal with fame’s worst aspects in a relatively mature fashion. Um, doesn’t she? Manson starts laughing with childish glee. “I, uh, would have to say that, for the most part, there are no drawbacks to fame! I mean, I’ve been in bands since I was 15 years old and I’ve slaved for at least 10 years, where nobody gave a fuck about what I was doing, didn’t wanna listen to what I was doing. I was treated like shit by the industry, I was treated like shit by the press. And then all of a sudden, the very same people are knockin’ at my door, being really sycophantic and saying how much they liked me and how much they loved my previous bands. And it’s like, bullshit!’ she growls, deep and menacing.
“If you liked my previous bands as much as you say you did, I wouldn’t even be here today!” In fact, one of Garbage’s favorite tour games is culling the backstage sycophants from the sincere fan flock. “And trust me,” purrs the savy Manson, “Garbage can tell who’s a groveler, don’t you worry about that. Our sonar system is unbelievably astute!”

Via Garbage, she concludes, “I’ve discovered that people are cruel and they’re pigs. But I’ve also discovered robust and generous and beautiful. I’ve discovered everything. But you just have to take everyday bit by bit, step by step. And to me, that’s what’s exciting about life. It can knock you between the eyes and throw you sideways. Which is also what’s terrifying about it.”

Manson finally gets around to acting like a grown up.

“Whoa!” she gasps. “I was on quite a rant there. I should shut up-I probably sound like an arsehole!”