There are worse things an old rock star can do than survive. Most of them involve pretending you’re still twenty-eight.
Marilyn Manson doesn’t do that on One Assassination Under God – Chapter 2. He doesn’t try to rebuild Antichrist Superstar. He doesn’t put on the corpse paint of his own youth and ask the ghosts to buy another ticket. He sounds older.
The album came out on August 14, 2026, through Nuclear Blast, two years after One Assassination Under God – Chapter 1. Nine songs. Just under forty-three minutes. No room for much wandering around looking for the bathroom.
And the record knows exactly where it wants to go. Down.
The first One Assassination Under God felt like a return. There was something almost stubborn about it. Manson had been through the kind of public wreckage that turns lesser artists into footnotes, and instead of making a record about being misunderstood, he made a record that sounded like somebody had thrown a match into the basement.
Chapter 2 is less interested in the explosion. It studies what’s left afterward.
Manson and Tyler Bates are again at the centre of the machinery, co-writing and co-producing the album. Bates has now become an important part of Manson’s late-period sound, having worked with him across The Pale Emperor, Heaven Upside Down, Chapter 1 and now this record.
Bates brings the atmosphere. Manson brings the wound.
Together they make something cinematic without turning it into movie-trailer garbage. The guitars grind, the electronics lurk underneath, and the songs often seem to be standing in a dark room waiting for somebody to say the wrong thing.
“Unalive” is a strong opener. It doesn’t waste time dressing itself up. Industrial pulse, heavy guitars, Manson’s voice sitting somewhere between a threat and a confession. It announces that Chapter 2 isn’t going to be a gentle walk through the garden.
Then comes “Don’t Answer The Door,” which slows the blood down and lets the dread accumulate. This is one of the things Bates does particularly well: he understands that heaviness isn’t always about volume. Sometimes the scariest thing is hearing the footsteps before the door opens.
“Front Toward Enemy” is where the old animal wakes up. The song originally appeared as a B-side during the Chapter 1 campaign, so putting it on Chapter 2 makes the two albums feel even more like parts of the same body. It is one of the record’s blunt instruments. Industrial metal with its teeth out. No philosophical lecture required.
Just hit the switch.
“None of the Suns” is different. More melodic. More wounded. It gives the album some air without making it soft. Manson has always been better when he allows the theatrical character to disappear for a moment and lets the damaged human being underneath him breathe.
Then comes “Lucifer’s Teardrop,” one of the heaviest things here and one of the best. It has the old Manson machinery without sounding like a museum piece. Big riff. Dark melody. Industrial weight. The kind of song that makes you understand why this man can still walk onto a metal festival stage and command a crowd that contains people who weren’t even alive when Antichrist Superstar came out.
“Exit Wound” is the obvious hook. It was the album’s first single, and you can hear why. It’s immediate, melodic, dark and built around the kind of chorus that doesn’t need three listens to introduce itself.
But the real surprise is “Enantiomorph.” It’s the six-minute closer, and the title refers to mirror-image forms. That’s not a subtle clue. This is Chapter 2 looking back at Chapter 1 and seeing its own reflection. The song begins quietly, develops through piano and atmosphere, and eventually becomes one of the album’s most emotionally exposed moments.
It is a good way to end the story. Not with an explosion. With the lights going out.
The strange thing about Marilyn Manson in 2026 is that he’s simultaneously less important and more interesting than he was at the height of his fame.
He isn’t the centre of the metal universe anymore. He doesn’t need to be.
There are younger bands making music that is heavier, faster, stranger and more technically impressive. Metal has moved through nu-metal, metalcore, industrial revival, extreme metal, electronic experimentation and a thousand internet micro-scenes since Manson was the great American boogeyman.
There are weaker moments. Some of the album’s textures repeat themselves. A few songs feel more like variations on the atmosphere than breakthroughs.
But the good songs are very good. That’s enough.
Marilyn Manson spent years building a character designed to terrify America. Now the character is older. The country is older. The music is older.
And somehow the bastard is still standing there with a microphone.
He lets the past stay dead and makes a good record out of the ashes.
Donnie’s Rating: 7.5/10
