(Garbage)
A stylistic and empowerment icon for over two decades, Shirley Manson will always be the coolest woman in the room, even if she’s not always the most coordinated performer. It was also really charming to hear her say, “Poo” in her Scottish accent.
I feel that every time I step on stage, something embarrassing, or deeply shameful, is bound to occur. This story has stayed with me and is burned deeply into my memory bank. Garbage had just played our biggest gig ever, at Wembley in London, the night before. It was a huge success, and my idol, Chrissie Hynde, was there. It was my rock ’n’ roll fantasy, when everything came together perfectly—my career was skyrocketing, and we were number one all over the place. I felt like Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard. It was fucking mental! After the gig, we got on the bus and woke up the following day in Bingen, Germany. We were late to the gig, so we didn’t have a sound check or get to see the stage. We were immediately rushed to the backstage facilities, which consisted of a few ropes, tarps, and a makeshift tent for the gents in the band. They put me in a small caravan that was missing its back wheels, so it was at a slanted angle. Every time I tried to move about, I fell. We were still so pumped from playing Wembley that we didn’t really care.
The guys ran up these little steps to get on stage with great excitement, and everything seemed to be going just great. I come on stage a little after the band because they have to get their instruments on. When I finally ran out—to my abject horror—I realized we were playing this tiny stage that overlooked the ruins of a small castle. There was a little pit in front of the stage, which was basically a little grassy knoll, with a smattering of German adults and a handful of children. They were all munching on picnics and had thermoses. It was still daylight, as it takes forever for the sun to go down in Germany at that time of year. There was something so funny about the way the guys bounded on stage, as if we were playing Madison Square Garden, to play to about thirty—maximum—picnicking German families.
We opened with the song, “Temptation Waits,” and I just got the giggles. I literally couldn’t fucking stop. I couldn’t sing a single word. I laughed for the duration of the whole fucking song. It was so awful and embarrassing, but I just couldn’t get myself together.
After the show, I came off stage and immediately needed to poo. There were no backstage facilities, so I had no idea what to do. I ended up squatting and pooping in a cup in my broken caravan. Afterward, I stood there holding the damn cup and couldn’t find anywhere to throw it. I poked my head out of the caravan and decided that the only thing to do was throw it over a wall that led to a dead drop into the countryside. On the way to the wall with my poo cup, I bumped into our tour manager, who was coming to collect my in-ear monitor. I was hiding the cup behind my back and acting all shifty. I managed to get the poo over the wall, and I went back to my cursed caravan. It was an incredible juxtaposition between the greatest gig of our career to one of the most humbling, and saddest.
I’m not a person who gets embarrassed, but here’s one where everyone was embarrassed for me. We were playing the KROQ Weenie Roast show in 2016, which is a big summer festival. We hadn’t played in a while, and I was really focused on trying to remember lyrics and cues. In the throes of all this, I failed to realize that we were set up on a circular, revolving platform. There was a step down to the stage proper and then the audience in front of me. I was singing “Special,” and I took a step onto the lip of the revolving platform, and I stumbled down onto the stage, falling off the stage into the crowd. There was a girl in the front row, and I can remember her face as I was falling into her, which was a shrieking mask of horror.
I fucked myself up pretty bad, but I didn’t miss a beat. You can watch the video on YouTube. I kept right on singing and didn’t lose my place. I’ve been doing this for thirty years, and that was my first fall on stage. Everybody was completely mortified. Our social media feeds were flooded with messages saying, “Don’t feel too embarrassed, Shirley!” Up until that point, I hadn’t really felt embarrassed. If I was more proper, I might have burned with more shame. I’m just glad I didn’t break my fucking neck.
One time I lost my wedding ring. I’d been married for two weeks, and we were playing a show in New Zealand. Someone in the audience grabbed my hand, and I noticed my ring was missing. I was freaked and sang an entire song without my wedding ring. Right after the song ended, I screamed into the mic, “Whoever’s got my fucking wedding ring better give it back right the fuck now!” Slowly, this very shaky hand reached out to the stage from the audience with the ring. I don’t think it was intentional, just opportunism. I can’t blame anyone for that. I’m not sure these are the kinds of stories you were looking for. I’m sure you wanted something much more outrageous, where I sucked a man off on stage and spat his cum all over the audience. Sorry to disappoint.