If you came of age in the late 1990s, Garbage was simply there—on the radio, looping on MTV after school, staring out from magazine covers in the checkout line. Shirley Manson moved through that landscape like a cool, slightly dangerous older sister: red hair, sharp cheekbones, a voice that could sound both bored and lethal in the same breath. She was the picture of detached Gen X cool.
Thirty years on, the band that once felt so vibrant has begun to fade. Fame has a way of changing the temperature of a room.
This is a story about the rise and demise of Garbage told from a long time fan’s perspective.
So put on your seatbelt. The truck is packed. We have several miles to drive and a story to tell on the Endless American Road.
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