‘I’m not dead, I’m not done,’ Shirley Manson declares on Chinese Fire Horse, a vitriolic kick-back against journalists who of late have been asking her if she’s planning to retire. Not a chance. With the electro-goth revival reaching full throttle (The Cure, Heartworms, Eurovision hexmaker Bambi Thug) and synthetic space-rock very much coming of age, even following the cancellation of the tour to support 2021’s No Gods No Masters - due to an old on-stage hip injury that left Manson requiring surgery and lengthy recuperation - these originators are as relevant as ever, and going both nowhere and back to the future-rock frontline.
Manson’s rehabilitation period has, in this eighth album in 30 years, created one of Garbage's most reflective releases (here she works towards acceptance of the fragility of her body while also reasserting its many strengths) but also one of their most defiant. Besides using the bubblegum space-rock of Chinese Fire Horse to put the boot into some poor underpaid hacks, across these 45 minutes Manson takes aim at cheating exes, oppressive and warmongering regimes, cruel ideologies and bigots of all shapes and sizes.
