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 Nine Inch Nails
Izod Center, New Jersey
When
Nine Inch Nails crept through "Hurt" during their arena gig last night,
scores of fans held their lighters aloft. In 2008,
when greeting power ballads with flashing cell phones is de rigeur, the
relatively primitive gesture seemed to say something. A few things,
actually: 1) Nine Inch Nails fans like to smoke cigarettes (because they
taste like death, of course), 2) a sea of Bics will always look cooler than a
sea of iPhones and 3) though the band's current tour is soaked
through with the best digital lighting tricks money can buy, the core
attraction — the almighty loneliness of being! — is as basic as
rubbing two pieces of wood together. Trent Reznor has been taking
advantage of this universal emotion for two decades now. But the singer
side steps exploitation because he really means it. Considering "meaning
it" involves stunted emotional growth and repetitive rage in this case,
praising Reznor's sincerity isn't the deepest compliment. But it's true. While in the photo pit mere feet from the stage during "Closer," Reznor
shot a look straight into our camera. The glance was brief, but it was
enough to make us think he was going to rip our limbs off for a split second. When he said
he "didn't get into this to fuck girls," we believed him — if he was
lying, how would he have time to make a quadruple album of
(admittedly listless) instrumentals and another record filled with
(refreshingly bloody) real songs in the span of just a few months earlier this
year?
Though Nine Inch Nails haven't
progressed much thematically, their big stage technical savvy —
highlighted by rows upon rows of LED back lights — is nothing but
progressive. There's the giant video drum machine that resembled a goth
version of Wheel of Fortune's big board, the static mesh peek-a-boo
segment, the phony surveillance footage and the convulsing crags that
seemed to infect Reznor's digitized blue face during "The Greater Good."
Without sound, the show would be grand. With sound, it was a roiling
spectacle with more-than-adequate peaks ("March of the Pigs," "Head Like a Hole")
and dips (an instrumental break featuring upright bass of all
things). Reznor doesn't throw as much shit around as he used to, and the
grown-up crowd doesn't go as nuts as they once did, but there was still much unhappiness
to go around. Catharsis, pretty lights, empowering volume — what else
could the pale masses want?
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