MARILYN Manson is an artist who needs no introduction. The veteran showman has lived a long and often lurid career, never far from controversy, but as anyone who has caught one of his hit-and-miss shows will know, in recent years it all depends on which Manson turns up.

Tonight the shock rocker turns up slightly broken - he is unveiled on stage, as the curtain descends, emerging from the smoke in an electric wheelchair decked out like a gothic throne.

Earlier in the tour Manson had suffered a freak accident when part of the stage set, the two pistols which tower at its centre, had fallen on him during his cover of Sweet Dreams, breaking his ankle.

Flanked permanently during the night by two adjuncts dressed as surgeons, Manson might be temporarily out of full physical working order but his voice certainly isn't.

His idiosyncratic scream, instantly recognisable, hits just as hard as it did back in 96 as opener Revelation #12 sounds epic.

The set has a healthy balance of revered tracks from the back-catalogue and new material.

Manson has enjoyed a artistic renaissance over recent years and fresh cuts from Heaven Upside Down, released in October, are tight, razor-sharp and visceral additions to the set. Kill4Me, Third Day of a Seven Day Binge, We Know Where you F****** Live and Say10 showcase how Manson’s music has taken on more of a metal edged sound over his older industrial tinge, with lyrics that are as sharp, ferocious and poignant as ever.

But it is when Manson digs deeper blasting through This Is the New S***, Disposable Teens, the anthemic mOBSCENE and modern classic Deep Six, that the sold out crowd really kick into overdrive.

While, stacking The Dope Show, Sweet Dreams and Tourniquet back to back Manson is sublime.

Yet confined to a wheel chair, a sort of industrial prosthetic limb, or macabre mock hospital bed at various points throughout the night, Manson's injury denies the audience any of his legendary shock rock stage antics.

Lost are the bible defiling heretics and American flag burning, and instead fans are treated to a wounded figure taking out his pseudo frustrations on said bed and half-hearted microphone drops.

Each song is also interspaced with costume changes which, whilst adding a captivating visual pastiche, stifle the set’s flow and slash it’s momentum.

Returning to the stage for an encore, Coma White is simply a bizarre act of self-sabotage.

But with the crowd all but willing to give up and go home the set's conclusion is thankfully saved by Beautiful People for an immense finish.

The night is thoroughly enjoyable - Manson's socio-political angst driven classics will be eternally resonant and he only seems to capture a growing legion of fans across the generations.

But leaving one can't help but feel how much contemporary Marilyn Manson fans are deprived of witnessing the band in their heyday.