November 13th, 1994 Louisville, ky – 4am
I’m standing outside of Sparks roundabout closing time after having been to a concert featuring Marilyn Manson the Jim Rose circus and of course nine inch nails on their groundbreaking tour of that year.
Sparks was a club in Louisville KY open from the late 80’s to late 90’s. Not much has survived of the club in the way of images or media outside of a few scraps on youtube, social media memorials and google searches.
Stumbling and standing before me is a skinny white kid in a large leopard print jacket with a mock Blackfoot war paint divide on his lower and upper face. Black painted jaw and lower nose line with a thin red stripe across the eyes.
This, unknown to me at the time was Brian Warner, AKA Marilyn Manson.
We are the only two people on the street outside the club at that point. He looks at me for a second and buried in his eyes are a darkness and disdain for virtually everything around him as though existence itself is an absolute annoyance.
A typical white kid of privilege who feels there still isn’t enough for them in the world.
I roll my eyes away to the street , light up a camel and chuckle to myself.
A flashy silver and red striped minivan speeds up and stops in front of him.
The minivan has a large side window conversion install and I can see clearly into the vehicle through the poorly tinted window as the slicing door is opened and the dome lights come on.
A completely naked blonde woman lays sprawled out in the kicked back rear passenger seat next to the window.
Brian hops in the vehicle from the sliding door on the opposite side, jumps on top of the naked blonde woman, who is in a nearly deranged drug-induced stupor and begins molesting her in a haunting manner which has since stuck a heavy memory anchor on that entire day.
The woman seemed stuck between a state of absolute horror and euphoria.
Roughly 7 hours earlier I had entered the concert that my roommate Tony had gotten tickets for by hanging out with Briand and a roadie in a local strip club the night before.
At the strip club Brian, my former room mate and the roadie had been getting excessively rough with some of the dancers, to the point of having been ejected from the club by the bouncers.
In their post ejection commiserations over having been ejected from the club after demanding oral sex from dancers, the former roommate in question was given two tickets.
Quoth tony, upon revealing the tickets to me the next day: “I don’t understand what the problem was, I get head at that place every other weekend for an extra $20 but we got these tickets to see nails tomorrow little brother.”
I forget what Tony’s last name was but he used to be the guitar player for 9th wave (the early 90’s Louisville, KY 9th wave, not the UK band of today) , he spent nearly every other weekend in jail and he stole my favorite leather jacket.
I was excited to see the nails. This was their Pinnacle tour and their Apex year. They would never be as popular or famous again.
None of us knew who Marilyn Manson was at the time.
Louisville gardens was not very populated as we entered and the opening acts were starting around 8pm.
Hardly 150 people were even around the stage as Marilyn Manson went on.
Brian has a mock blackfoot war paint on his face as he performed.
By the third or fourth song in their set, Brian decided to shove a wine bottle up his ass, dump it out in his ass and then fart wine onto the crowd while singing.
By the 6th song in the set he was felating the guitar player who was wearing a strap-on over his fancy leather pants.
The Jim Rose side show, which has a lot of extreme physical acts in it seemed a lot more genuine than what Brian/Manson was doing or trying to do.
Although Marilyn Manson’s performance was confusing and lackluster compared to the rest, it is to date the best concert I’ve ever been to.
Mainly because it’s the only concert I’ve ever been to where I actually had sex (consensual!) while in the crowd during that amazing portion of the nine inch nails set where the projection screen is in front of the entire band and the bird crashes through the water. Yes drugs were also involved.
The after party was at Sparks which was a club I was also working at at the time as a bar back and performer in the drag shows on weekends.
Yes, I was 4 years too young to be working at or partying in a club. It was so f****** cool.
Tony had gone home early and the girl I had hooked up with at the show left with another guy so I had walked the 12 blocks from the gardens over to Sparks on my lonesome.
When I got there, there he was the bar. Trent f****** Reznor in all his splendor and Glory.
“Mother”, the half owner and event promoter (dead ringer for “Divine” from ‘pink flamingos’) was behind the bar racking everybody up black ice sambuca shots. Although we didn’t interact very much I got to share a black ice sambuca shot with Trent f****** Reznor and gush over him that I was his biggest fan in the universe, loved him to death and wanted to have his babies.
I had not seen Marilyn Manson or Jim Rose or any of their people around the bar area. They must have been on the dance floor at the time or in the VIP area in the basement which I did not end up at since I was caught in the gravitation of Trent Reznor.
At last call mother gave me the wink that this was going to turn into a private party so I could either stay in the club for another four to six hours debatching myself and then pouring out into the daylight of the world after more mind-numbing chemicals or I could leave now and forever hold my peace.
At that point I counted myself ahead in the game and figured that any more would probably kill me.
This is when I exited the club at 4:00 a.m. to find Brian outside on the street and the events that followed.
Whereas Amber herd’s accusations against Johnny Depp are absolute b*******, I can affirm in this instance that Brian Warner is indeed a sexual predator and has some severe rock God complex issues.