Red Light Factory, a new duo out of Greater Manchester featuring Harry Lavin and Ben Warwick, dares to tread a rather murky path with their debut single, “Manson Song.” And no, it’s not a tribute to Marilyn, in case you were wondering… although, are any songs about Marilyn truly about Marilyn? That’s a question for another day.
The song, rather boldly delves into our collective, and somewhat disturbing, fascination with the darkest corners of humanity. Think less true-crime podcast binge and more a sonic exploration of why we binge. Lavin and Warwick aren’t offering easy answers; rather presenting an artful study, using unsettlingly beautiful soundscapes, blending Alternative Rock and the shadowy alleys of Post-punk and electronic flourishes.
“Manson Song” dissects the intoxicating allure of the charismatic villain, that illusion of connection that shatters on closer inspection, resembling cheap glitter under a magnifying glass. This perfect romance as revealed as the manipulative tactic of a destructive, and ultimately hollow figure. Have you ever found a seashell on the beach that looked amazing, and turned it over to find a hermit crab scuttling? That emotional swerve, is kind of this track in action.
The band describes itself, as aiming to write fearless and unique songs.
The lyrics speak of a descent, a surrendering of self. “Tripping,” “recklessness”—these aren’t accidental choices, these are key terms used to illustrate a mind seduced, perhaps willingly, into an altered state. There’s almost a perverse poetry in the idea of trading reality for an illusion, especially one peddled by such transparently false gods, that will turn your stomach a little, it’s supposed to.
Red Light Factory aren’t condemning; they’re observing. They’re holding up a mirror, smudged and cracked, perhaps reflecting a disconcerting aspect of humanity. Did the invention of the television, by its very nature create the environment to enhance and magnify cult-followings?
The question left dangling is almost uncomfortable: what parts of ourselves are we willing to sacrifice for that gilded promise of belonging, even if the gold is only spray-painted on?
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