Die Mannequin Take Guitars Over Jesus

"Oh man, this is awesome," chuckles Care Failure.

The young frontwoman of punk/metal/rock trio Die Mannequin is calling from a phone booth near her studio, and said phone booth is apparently under siege from a man screaming random obscenities.

"Damn, I don't think he likes me. Hey dude, I got a gun!"

There's a faint pause, and she murmurs, almost to herself: "Now that's a bad idea. Don't even let me go there."

Lately, Die Mannequin's bad ideas have been replaced with good opportunities. Having toiled away in the Toronto scene — Care plus drummer Pat and bassist Tony have all played in other local bands for years — the ramshackle threesome have finally been catching some well-deserved breaks, with one particular standout being an opening slot for Guns N' Roses.

"It was more the fact that we'd never played stadiums before," says Failure. "Playing in front of 20,000 people is quite different than playing in front of 20 at Clinton's.

"It was like Clinton's on acid, basically. People were like, 'How did you get that gig?' And I was like, 'What do you mean, how did I get it? Just play in a rock band and it'll happen!' We've been playing our asses off for years and years, so we've proven ourselves."

Fronting a band is also a slightly new role for Failure, although her last band, Bloody Mannequins, built up a pretty strong buzz around town — even if their early songs were, as she describes it, "just fucking around before I started on my own stuff.

"I've always been a songwriter, but before, I wasn't even developed. I was just a bassist in someone else's band. But everyone was too lazy to learn all my shit, so I was like, 'OK, whatever, I'll just start my own band.' It's kind of lame how it came around, but that's how it happened. I wish it was more interesting."

Yet, anyone who's been around the downtown Toronto scene long enough will know that there's very little lame or boring about DM's back story — or that of their erstwhile singer. Failure speaks frankly about her former drug abuse and homelessness ("People say I'm really open about it, but it's not like I'm gonna hide it, because there's really nothing to hide"), although she doesn't take the typical "music saved me" path that many others have.

"I was in rehab once, and everyone had to do the 12 steps to find God, but I wasn't very good at that, you know? You were supposed to find spirituality, but I couldn't do it. For me, meditating is really difficult. Maybe I have ADD. I shouldn't try yoga at all. But anyway, they'd give me like 20 minutes to play guitar, and that got me in the zone. So I'm thinking maybe that's what I get close to — even if it's just a constant stream of scribbly guitar babble that comes out."

Failure chuckles again with the same unconcerned laugh that was directed earlier at a rampaging hobo. "Hey, it's better than Jesus."