Chris Vrenna enters a bakery. “I need a cherry
pie for Trent.“ “We‘re out of cherry pies, Chris.“
Chris looks totally distraught, declaring,
“This can‘t be. Trent really wants that cherry pie…”
When your photographer has a dream like this a
week before an interview, you laugh. But when you just happen to see a cherry
pie in a bakery window hours before that interview, you buy it.
Even though Trent‘s laughing he‘s still looking
at us with an expression that says ‘what asylum do I call to get these two
taken a way?‘ I‘m glad he‘s laughing: I have orders from someone who knows him
to push the pie in his face if he doesn‘t.
So why are we threatening Trent with a cherry pie? Oh my God, could
it be due to the release of a new
album? Good answer!
Let‘s take a few giant steps back. This Trent
Reznor tale has been mutating since mid-1992... starting with that
over-publicized occupation of the Sharon Tate house. Trent bitterly mocks, “I can‘t say I
moved into the Sharon Tate house to do a record because it was a cool place.
When I found out that it was that place it didn‘t even dawn on me that I would
get such shit for it. It was like wow, the chance to live in a cool house
that‘s ten times nicer then any place I‘ve ever lived. Hell, yeah, I’ll try it
until they kick me out. But that has been misconstrued into everything I do is
an attempt to get publicity.“
Just another facet of Trent‘s tempestuous career
that went awry for no good reason... Trent still doesn‘t accept how newsworthy he really
is. Once Hard Copy knows about you,
you‘re doomed.
We all know about that deliciously evil gem
called Broken. But it wasn‘t where Trent was going. It was a nasty musical
temper tantrum, a knee-jerk reaction to his fouled-up career. The mainstream
press tried to play catch up on Trent when Broken reared its vicious little head. No one questioned what was
going to happen when Trent finally focused with his true musical
talent instead of his hatred. Almost no one...
As much as I trust Trent‘s vision it worried me
that no new music was going to be heard until I am in LA...
After a wonderful visit to Death Valley, which
seemed an appropriate prelude to Trent‘s trauma, once back in LA we get strong
armed into going to proudly pretentious Small‘s. Help me! Since the friend who
begged us to come is busy swapping gossip with fellow musicians and I have the
car keys, which in LA is power, I‘m considering going into bitch mode and
stalking out.
“Oh my God.,. you‘ll never guess who is sitting
across the room..“
“Trent....“
Perfect. I‘ll be damned if I am looking over there
let alone cross the room. I enjoy a sense of empowerment too. After five
minutes I hear a “Hello ladies....“ Just perfect.
Next evening at a rented house on Hollywood Boulevard where it twists into the Hills (Trent, of course, mocks this address) I‘m
handed a cassette tape with a lifetime of nerves attached to it. “Be gentle
with me...“
“Is there a reason to have to be?“ I ask as Masie,
Trent‘s playful Golden Labrador, keeps offering me her leash.
“It‘s not done yet... I‘ve another week in the
studio no singles on it....“ Trent‘s emitting waves of defensiveness mixed with
both subtle defiance and anxiety. Now I really want to hear this. We‘ll be back
tomorrow afternoon.
The verdict? I don‘t care how long Trent‘s been
in LA, and I don‘t care what you might think of him, he‘s master fully built
the bitter bridge between Pretty Hate Machine
and Broken.
With The
Downward Spiral Trent has created an amazingly ambiguous and anxious album
that alter natively slashes its nails across the sonic black board then stares
hollowly into that dark void only to flail into even harder cathartic
convulsions. He‘s finally found a true musical voice through exploring haunting
new directions of sound. And he‘ll shake off casual fans like Masie shakes her
pull toy. Just perfect.
It’s fitting that the next day turns out to be
relentlessly grey and torrentially rainy. Up in the Hills the ram gushes like
blood from a torn artery on its way down to flood Sunset. “I realize I still
get more done when it‘s raining outside. I still have this built in ‘oh, it‘s a
beautiful day outside, I should be doing something outside...“ Trent jests.
I knew it. That‘s why the album took so long.
You were out being a surfer dude... I can tell by that incredibly healthy
pallor. “I gave up. When I was a kid I was Casper, always the whitest kid on the
block. But I said ‘you know what? Someday that‘s going to come into style...
and you are going to pay.‘ Skinny pale kids... you wait until you are a
wrinkled prune... although I‘ll probably be dead from some other cause by that
time. But my skin will look good. Plus I feel like a freak now because I don‘t
have some sort of tatoo. Unusual,“ Trent mocks as he offers his bare arms in
evidence.
It‘s obvious being trapped in LA for months
hasn‘t changed Trent‘s mockingly dry edge. “Believe me, this has done nothing but
increase my isolation,“ he laughs. “We‘ve been totally uprooted. But I
discovered if you just keep working you don‘t have time to miss your life,“ he
grins. “I enjoy working, but at the same time, there will probably be four
double albums out...“
At least you‘ll be able to get back to touring
new material soon... “Yeah, that will be fun for six months then I‘ll be like I
can‘t wait to get into the studio,“ he mock whines. “I need something to keep
miserable with all the time.“
That‘s Trent has that happy reputation as a
miserable bastard. He looks at me with this incredulous grin. I may get that
pie in my face. Hey, the British press practically nominated him as the tortured
soul poster boy of the decade. He rapidly scoffs, “Sometimes it‘s just really
him to play up, especially with those idiots. It‘s not about music, it‘s about
the soap opera, give them the show.“
Needless to say, Trent‘s found his tenure in LA
to be less then cheerful. That we saw him at Small‘s was amazing, considering
it‘s only the fourth time he‘s been coaxed there. His summation of LA? “It‘s
like ‘so, what do you do? What do you drive?“ as Trent gives a nasty smile, innocently
declaring “Why, my fist up your ass.“
Nope, he hasn‘t changed a bit.
PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST
AS A SLAVE
As Masie happily sprawls between us on Trent‘s
couch, Trent begins an steady outpouring of the events that have occupied his
life in the last four years, apologizing since I already know most of this. He
wants it for the record. “We toured for eternity, and the bottom fell out, and
what was really shitty about all that was... say up to where Lollapalooza
happened, as the popularity of the band increased, and got outside of the realm
of the people I could understand liking it, some of our original fans started thinking,
‘OK, the same record I liked a year ago, now I hate it because my sister likes
it.‘ You can‘t stop people from liking it!“
During all this the relationship with Trent‘s
label TVT deteriorated so badly that he realized he could never create another
album for them. Pretty Hate Machine was
nudging the million mark, and even though Trent swears that TVT hated everything
about the album when he delivered it to them, they certainly weren‘t hating
what eventually happened on the financial end. Trent was reaping the glory of public
acceptance, but little else.
“It got to the point where it was so
unproductive that it wasn‘t a matter of me demanding this and that, it was a
matter of me going just let me do what I want.“ The relationship became so
perverse that Trent had to play games such as asking for a video director he really didn‘t
want since he knew he would be refused who he really wanted. “It was
unproductive, and it was like that on every level. After the record started
selling on its own terms we thought they would think maybe these guys know what
they‘re doing, why don‘t we just leave them alone? No. Oh, this record sold a
million? Let‘s have the next record sell five
million.“
Unfortunately, by this time Trent had discovered yet another unpleasant
aspect of the music biz. “It‘s basically set up so that if you‘re the artist,
you‘re screwed. We went to a lawyer and said ‘look, we‘ve got 20 instances of
where they‘ve wronged us. We‘ve never gotten a penny.‘ At the time we had sold
800,000 records and I had never seen a cent. I was ‘what is going on?“ The
legal hassles that Trent went through were immense,
basically boiling down to no matter what, he was going to loose a lot of money
and still not be able to get out of his contract.
And Trent‘s not asking for sympathy. He freely
admits he screwed up but he still can‘t accept a system that is allowed to rape
an artist‘s natural resources. Example: TVT owns the publishing rights to the
first album. “We didn‘t know any better... that was a monumental...“ as he
pauses in fury, mouth pinching bitterly. “We gave them administrative rights,
which means when someone calls me and goes ‘hey, I was watching this terrible
movie last night with Corey Feldman in it and ‘Head Like a Hole‘ was in it.‘
‘You‘re kidding me!‘ So I find the movie and sure enough, there it is. They got
five grand to put that in the movie. ‘Hey Trent, I was watching this shitty
movie...‘ ‘Oh no, not again! No, Nooooo!“ he mockingly groans, shaking his head
in despair. “It became a thing where I realized that I‘d rather see Nine Inch
Nails evaporate and die then whore what it was going to turn into: if it had to
be the end, that was the end. Litigation was going to take two years, this was
already two years after the record was out, which would be certain death. Then
it was going to cost somewhere between half a million and three quarters of a
million. And that‘s not saying you‘re going to get off. Because there was no smoking
gun, in bullshit lawyer speak, which has to be some horrible act.“ The
following gem about a label head and semen is best left alone.
Trent sighs, “That‘s a pretty shitty feeling.
On one hand you‘ve worked hard and are seeing something taking off; on the
other hand you‘re on thin ice and you know it‘s over and you can‘t do anything
about it. I can‘t even describe that feeling, to not be in control at all. It‘s
such an awful feeling.
“A bunch of labels were interested in buying us
off TVT. TVT wouldn‘t let anybody take us. Legally another, bigger label can‘t
help you financially get off a smaller label, due to some small amount of
ethics that exists in this business,“ he mocks.
“When Lollapalooza came up, I said no because I
hate playing outside, big venues, and just that whole party down, all day
festival bullshit. But when they carne back and said we‘ll pay you 12,000 each
show...shit! For 45 minutes!“
This sounded attractive at the time since Trent wanted to save enough money to
mount a legal batter to get off of TVT. “We did the tour, we did make some
money, and we were going to start our last hope.“ It had gotten so bitter
between the label and him self that he banned them from backstage, and even had
TVT mogul Steve Gottlieb thrown out for impersonating Steve Gottlieb! “Moments
of greatness in the midst of the nightmare,“ Trent grins. “But then Interscope entered
into the picture in the form of doing some joint venture deal with TVT, which
at the time, my impression of Interscope was this is a label known for Marky
Mark and Geraldo... it‘s TVT with more money! I‘ve been enslaved to some one
else! But after quite a bit of head butting we agreed to go with that. It was
good for us because it involved no litigation, I wouldn‘t have to stop my
career for x amount of years, and to be quite fair, we had to work it so that
TVT is financially in the picture, but I don‘t have to deal with them.
Meanwhile, Interscope has turned out to be totally great: they‘re nice,“ he
declares with exaggerated shock, “and they let us do what we have to do. They
give me a chunk of money and I give them a record. They respect me. That‘s turned
out to be pretty pleasant.“ Things are looking up... maybe.
I HATE EVERYONE
Now we‘re up to mid- 1992. Broken spewed forth in its glorious apocalypse of hate. Radio
stations who wouldn‘t normally have the balls to touch something that virulent
sat back and watched ‘Happiness in Slavery‘ get voted screamer of the week by
fans rabid for something new from NIN. “Broken
was right after Lollapalooza, when we couldn‘t record, we couldn‘t do anything
because TVT would own it. So I just wanted to make this angry little blob of
music, which we did under different band names in studios so TVT wouldn‘t know
what we were doing. When the deal came though with Interscope I said here‘s
this. It was an EP because I didn‘t want it any longer. It was just a blast of anger.
“After that we went to Europe for the first time and for the most
part sucked. We opened for Guns and Roses on a couple of dates which totally
sucked. A failed experiment. I‘m glad we did it to say we did it but I never
want to get back on Stage like that again.
“I was going through this mental breakdown, and
it became very unpleasant. It became that feeling of I‘ve devoted my whole life
to this and I can‘t do it anymore.“
A small respite was found in Fixed. Trent liked the idea hearing what
remixes of Broken‘s material would
sound like through the ears of musicians like Peter Christopherson (Coil), Jim
Thirwell and Adrian Sherwood. But after only 50% of the remixes turned out to
be usable, (like Peter‘s and Jim‘s: Adrian Sherwood‘s and producer Butch Vig‘s
were disasters) he filled it out with left over noise experiments, limited its
pressing and let it go at the price of a 12“ single. He confesses, “Honestly,
what it came down to was what I thought could have been a great idea in its
execution start ed to suck.“
So Trent now has his budget from Interscope.
It‘s finally time to work on that new album. But the problem was where to
record it... “I wanted to get back and get new material. I thought the idea of
having a studio in a house would be a good thing. So we bought some gear, and
were going to set up in New Orleans where I was living and was happy,“ he strongly stresses. “But we
couldn‘t find a house that was big enough. We needed a place apart from other
people. We did find one place but it was this situation where I would have to
buy the house...“ as he grimaces, giving a mocking little laugh. “I’ll spend
that much on a mixing console, but not on a house. That‘s a frightening adult thing to do,“ he deadpans. “So the
people helping us get the studio together were from LA, and the practical side
is there‘s a million people in LA who can do that stuff. So I flew in for a
day, saw a bunch of houses, one of which was that Sharon Tate house, which I
didn‘t at the time know, because we were whirlwinding through five minutes per
house. That was the coolest house. We saw fifteen [houses] that would have
worked for what I was willing to pay. That one was cool because it was fairly
centrally located but was on the side of a mountain with the most amazing view
I had ever seen in my life. So... I
know this is an old story but I have to justify why I ended up in the Tate
house… people are ‘oh, you‘re sooo spooky,“ he wearily mocks. “So later someone
said that the Sharon Tate house was up on the hill you were on. I was ‘really?“
Trent describes that his friend had a
copy of Helter Skelter which he started flipping through. “There‘s a floor plan
of the house. Turn the page... there‘s a picture of the ladder leading up to
the loft and I clearly remembered climbing up to that loft that day. Holy...!“
as he imitates fearfully thrusting the book away. “But at the end of the day we
had decided as cool as that house was, I preferred New Orleans because it would be easier to work
there. So we went home and the house that we were going to get had been sold.
The realty people had screwed us. So I said we‘re going to LA, get the Tate
house.
“We drove out there the next month, and had re-read
Helter Skelter to re-familiarize ourselves
with it. We got there at night, and it was terrifying ... I was ‘what have we done?‘ It seemed easy to
make the decision when we were miles away but now... But after a week we didn‘t think about it because it was
serene... a peaceful place. If there‘s any vibe there it‘s more one of sadness
then of intense fear. It‘s not like a haunted house,“ he shrugs.
So Trent‘s in the Tate house. The music press
has him for dinner. But so what; everything‘s going to be perfect with an in-
house studio to record anytime you want and... wait a minute. This is Trent
Reznor we‘re talking about. “Then the new delays begin. We want to set a studio
up. I‘m estimating a month to set it up. It takes three months because of every
imaginable problem you can dream of. Part of the incentive to set up a studio
was to force myself to learn more engineering, so I would be less dependent.“
But it‘s not as simple as that. Trent pantomimes
an elaborate mock drama of what happens when you go to record ideas and nothing
works, concluding, “You end up on your back looking at all these cables... ok,
forget writing songs, let‘s take time
to figure this out. You start to see the negative side in having the studio in
the house... So months go by, and you‘ve got the room sounding good, you‘ve got
the gear working, everything‘s cool, the vibe‘s right... now I have to write a
song. ‘OK... all right... I am going to write a song now. OK. Right...“ Hand-wringing
despair best sums up his next pantomime. He‘s good at this. “I knew what I
wanted to do thematically on this record, but sound wise... with Broken I knew what I wanted to do. With
this record I was very conscious of the fact that I didn‘t want to go in there and make another record that sounded
like Broken. And when I started
writing for this record I would pick up a guitar, write things and they would
sound like Broken songs. So I went
back to keyboards because I‘m better with them, and more depth comes through
harmonically.
“When I started noodling around, I‘d come up
with ideas and go ‘well, I like that, but it‘s not very pop, it could never be
a single... hey, it‘s cool. Hey, that‘s
kind of strange‘... then another one
would come out that way. When I approach doing an album, usually I like the
feeling of thinking I‘ve got a couple of good strong songs, like when I did Pretty Hate Machine, ‘Down In It‘ was
one of the first songs I had done, which I thought was a good song, an anchor
song that gives me room to try more experimental stuff, knowing there is some
amount of focus. And if that is writing Pop songs, then that‘s what I do. Like
‘Head Like A Hole‘ came at the end, and I realized that it‘s an obvious song,
but it sets you up to sit through another song. On this record, I didn‘t feel
that I had any of those. So about six songs into it Flood got involved. And I
said ‘I‘ve got a record of b-sides that I like, but I don‘t think there‘s
anything for a focus cut.‘ Well, let‘s just go on and at some point I‘ll come
up for air and say, ‘this sucks,‘ or... I didn‘t know. It gave me an underlying
questioning of the whole thing.
“I think Broken
was a real safe record, although it wasn‘t as commercial as Pretty Hate Machine,“ he mocks. “I knew I
was on the fence in a lot of people‘s minds... was I going to be a pussy or was
I going to be a man? Do hard male rock... and I did. And I don‘t regret doing that,
and that‘s certainly how I felt at the time. It‘s not that I don‘t want to do
that, but I consciously tried on this record to do some different things.
“I didn‘t want to establish Nine Inch Nails as
something where every song has to be harder and faster then the last one.
Because I don‘t think that equals more intense. I have seen a lot of bands that
are like ‘we are the hardest, toughest, meanest bastards in the world,‘ and
after five songs of that, that doesn‘t equal being intense. There‘s a different
type of emotion, of intensity that sets you up differently. I was more
concerned with that. When I sit down with an instrument, not everything that
comes out is super hard, a metal song.
“I had a lot of people who came from seeing us
live [at Lollapalooza], people had just heard of us. They‘d be,“ Trent now accurately adopting a metal
dude, “you‘re great, but I bought
your record and it sucks, maaan! It‘s
all like keyboards and shit.“
Another annoyed shrug follows as Trent declares, “Well, OK, then we suck!
I thought they complimented each
other... I still think it‘s a good record. But live it mutated into something
else.
“It also took a long time to do this record
because initially I didn‘t know if I had anything to say,“ he confesses with total vulnerability. “It wasn‘t as distinct
a voice as Broken. What I had to say
was less obvious, and less shouting in your face. I tried to reinvent... I
don‘t know how successful I‘ve been. I tried to do things I‘ve never done
before. Different structures: not all verse, chorus, bridge, verse... I think
every song I‘ve written before this has the same structure. I tried to break
that up.“
There‘s sonic structures on Downward Spiral
that are more distinct then anything Trent‘s ever offered. Some of the structures
are so aurally disturbing, like the mutantly twisted title track, that you can
hear he‘s finally connected with his own unique language of sound. And there‘s
a specific reason for this.
“I‘ve listened to a lot more older stuff, like
old Bowie, old Iggy Pop, Lou Reed: stuff that I really hadn‘t heard before as I
was so into Kiss that I ignored it. I think the discovery of hearing records
like Low and Transformer...‚“ as he pauses, stressing, “I hate the idea of retro. I hate
the idea of people like Lenny Kravitz or Pearl Jam. They aren‘t doing anything new in
any stretch of the imagination. So when I contradict myself by saying one of
the biggest influences of the last year has been old stuff, it‘s the revelation
of... this is my theory.“ There‘s that self-mocking voice! “When you hear a
record like Low, someone asks me
‘hey, what new albums do you have,‘ and I have to think for 30 seconds before I
can even remember the last record I
bought of a new band that I thought was really good, more then just a song on a
record. It seems that the music industry is so much more product oriented now,
it‘s so...“
Extremely lazy regarding signing anything
creative.
“Mmmmm... maybe lazy on the part of the
musicians, where all you really need to do is be pretty, have one song, have a
flashy video and you‘re a star. Most people now when they buy a CD, there‘s
maybe two good songs on there. It that worth it? Then some of these older
records, you hear them and every song... you think I couldn‘t even write one
song that good, let alone ten! And trying to put it into the perspective of
what was happening at that time, and you think Jesus Christ! It was so much
more art oriented then this unit moving video shit. I aspired to make a record
that was more like that... now that could also be the excuse for having a
record with no singles on it,“ he softly remarks, vigorously massaging Masie‘s
ears.
So is there a problem with that, Trent? You‘ve made an intrinsically solid
album: an entire listening experience. Do you need those obvious singles? “I
don‘t think you do but in light of how things are now...“ as he sips his iced
tea. “I am lying if I say I don‘t do this... when I am writing a song, I do
erase things from my mind in terms of marketing and bullshit business. But there
comes a point, especially when it‘s done in the studio, where you think ‘OK,
now, I am not going to pretend that oh I am just an artist, I don‘t care what
happens...‘ I care very much what happens, and how I am going to be
presented to the people, and how my band is viewed. I am aware of that. When I look at it that way, and I say ‘OK, what‘s my
goal in putting this record out? Well, I would hope that it would get through
to the people who would like it. So, what‘s the best way to go about that? What
song would I want to make a video of?‘ I do think of those things, and I am not
ashamed to admit that. I want to know how the business end of it works...“
If I heard anything less from you after what
was done to your career I would think you were a moron who‘s out of touch with
reality. “You realize the more knowledge you have of how things work, the more
empowered you are over control of your own things. So... I don‘t really know
what to expect from this one. I like it... if I didn‘t like it, I wouldn‘t have given you the tape.“
I felt like I was pushing something by
expecting this talk to happen when we planned. That‘s why I became leery of
what I was going to hear. “I was apprehensive... it basically is done aside
from a few minor things that I‘m just dragging my feet to do. It‘s hard to be
in the studio everyday for six months and then turn around and say, ‘OK, now I
am going to pretend I‘ve never heard this before, let‘s get the order
together.‘ I hear a song and remember punching a wall because I couldn‘t get it
right, or of hating a certain person because they fucked it up... so I‘ll feel
better when I think the order is right. I do think it might be a grower type of
record that people will need to hear a few times.“ But that‘s just perfect...
SAVE ME FROM MYSELF
Trent is truly into the confessional
route this rainy day. He may be known as being critical, but he‘s always
harshest on himself. After berating himself again for screwing up career- wise,
he despairs, “I‘m just not wanting to write. I do not enjoy the process that
much. I like it when it‘s done, I can think that‘s good, that‘s getting the
feeling.
“But before it things are good, I‘m having fun,
I‘m going around the world... oh, I don‘t want to hide in a room and be a loser and lose all my friends which I‘ve
done again. The friend count is down to less then one hand... it sucks the life I lead,“ he mutters.
Masie gazes up at him adoringly as he continues to stroke her ears. Hey, Masie
still loves you. This earns me a thrilled look which darkens as he sighs,
letting his head drop back.
If it makes you feel any better, Downward Spiral succeeds in furthering
the Nine Inch Nails emotional range. The album alternates between highly
charged aggression and an overwhelming despair. The one instrumental offering,
‘A Warm Place,‘ is chilling despite its title. Moody,
haunting, angry... with lashing lyrics that sound hike they were penned by a
tortured psychopath when read on their own. Whoops, I get another darkly arch
look thrown my way. Sorry, that‘s the truth. Those lyrics are hardly the things
dreams are made of... more hike nightmares. Trent, you did print them out for me to
read, didn‘t you?
“I know. I was trying to concentrate on a few
things that I thought were somewhat weak in the past, which was mood in
particular. There are a lot more instrumental moments on this. And I‘ve always
tried to look at the main focus as the lyrics, then the music seemed to come
easy. I wasn‘t as afraid of doing that... the way I approached this record was
with the goal to make an album, which
is an unfashionable thing to do. I wanted to have this flow to it. When I sat
down to write these songs I almost had a story written out. What I am trying to
do now is to see what moods I did not explore fully. That‘s what I am trying to
fix.“
Happiness isn‘t fully explored on this one...
what a surprise! But there is a different plan of attack for the next album.
“The idea of doing the record next year is to write it while touring. Just to
keep busy, and to approach it in a different way.
“I also have a new band together now which is
far superior to what I had in the past. It‘s a new five piece, which is going
to be pretty hard to pull off. The stuff on Broken
and this new stuff has never been played live before. But I‘ve now got guys who
want to do it and are excited to do it. That‘s half the battle: the attitude
and the excitement. It‘s tough to go out forever and... blah, blah, blah,“ as
he suddenly mocks himself anew for his long answers.
Gee, another shocker: the new band members
aren‘t from LA. What a surprise! Seriously, though, that‘s always been the skewed
quality to Nine Inch Nails: it has never been a band in the studio. Trent creates the music then has to
explain to musicians how it should work. Trent quickly declares, “A comment on
that. We‘d never been into the context of ‘hey, let‘s go into the studio and
make a record.‘ But with this record, especially with the lack of distinct
musical identity; ‘OK, I want to open up the palate to something new. How do I
do that? I‘ll involve my band! Hey, they‘ve been wanting to do that.‘ When I
opened that door up, which essentially amounted to Rich, the interest level was
there.“
Or was it? Trent frowns, “It‘s one thing to talk
a big shitstorm about I want to be in your band. Ok, now I need help, so let‘s
do it. I‘ve got a new keyboard player that I was working with for a while. And
both of them were working on their own little projects, and then it became a
competition of ‘oh, I have to out do Trent.‘ Then it got to be what am I
doing? Everyone in my band: I am now the
last priority. It was insane,“ he sighs. “I am all for people expressing
themselves. If you are the guitar player in my band and you‘re also a great
jazz saxophonist, then get a band together and do lt. You‘re not going to be
doing it in Nine Inch Nails. I provide the framework for what I think the album
should be like, now let‘s flesh it out into an album. If you have songs, even
lyrics fine. But when I tried that, that‘s when the overhaul came in again. I
realized I just have to do it myself. Every time I try to branch out, I realize
I just should have done it myself in the first place. It‘s not that I don‘t
think anyone else can do it, but...“ as another shrug ends his thought.
“I feel a lot better now that ideas did start
coming. It wasn‘t really a situation of writer‘s block. I’d sit down and just
go, ‘OK, I want to write a song. I think I‘ll write a fast one; what do I want
to write about today?‘ Something has to tell me write a song about this because
it is screwing you up. Then a song springs out. But I am not going to write a
song about not being able to get my tape deck to arm, or how much I hate LA.
No. That‘s too easy,“ he dismisses. “But this has been an isolating experience
being here, not knowing the city, not fitting in, not trying that hard to fit
in, because I don‘t want to be Anthony Kiedis. I have no desire to subscribe
that LA lifestyle. It‘s funny hut the joke wears thin after a while.“
Trent know there‘s this inherent mistrust of
everything he does: that has to put an incredible amount of pressure on him,
especially since this album has taken so long. I‘m surprised vicious rumors
aren‘t flying about him being a helpless junkie locked up in some dark room. “I
have been under an incredible amount of pressure ever since Lollapalooza,“ he
corrects, “the pressure being mostly from myself. I am trying to make a record
that‘s true to how I feel about things. I‘m doing it for myself, but at the
same time I hope there‘s a certain amount of connection. But it‘s certainly not
the record for everybody. But I also realize once you set yourself up: it‘s not
just making music, or hopefully getting paid to make music, you‘re also set up
as an icon. Some people like you, and some people want to rip you apart any way
they can. I don‘t know if the fact that it‘s more electronic based draws
attention to that...“
Especially since so many bands have distanced
themselves from being etched with that electronic edge. Even bands who were
originally wedded to the idea seem inclined to let their publicity department
divorce them from it. Hey kids, there‘s more great guitars now! It‘s safe for
commercial consumer consumption! I thought something more would evolve at first
hut it... “It just stopped!“ exclaims Trent in conclusion. “All the bands just
changed! I mean... I was thinking about the heyday of Wax Trax. A few years
ago, I looked forward to everything that came out on that label. And most of it
was at least interesting if not good. And it seems like everyone either turned
more into a metal band or a techno band, which I cannot stand personally, techno,
that is: it irritates me. It‘s part of that bullshit club scene that I don‘t
understand and am not a part of in any capacity.“
If I start an argument about this we‘ll be here
past my flight time.
SPINNING OUT OF
CONTROL
Besides, there‘s something more...pressing to deal with. Trent suddenly
intones, “There‘s something I‘d like to clear up. We have made plenty of screw-
ups in terms of making decisions: you execute them and realize that was stupid. Why did we do that? For example: Spin.“
An involuntary “Oh no!“ squeaks out of me; I
knew he‘d bring that up, especially since I interviewed Front Line Assembly‘s
Bill Leeb right after that awful article, and Bill was scathing in his comments
about Trent‘s trashing of Front Line Assembly. Masie, want to go for a walk in
the rain?
But Trent‘s not hostile in the least, bless
him. If anything, that Spin disaster
still deeply upsets him. “Now just for the record let me say this. When Spin approached us about doing a cover, it
was because it was right after Lollapalooza, and Spin realized that they hadn‘t done anything on this guy and he‘s
gotten pretty big. So Spin calls up.“
Trent begins a long conversational
reenactment. “‘Hey, we want to do a cover and all that blah, blah, blah...‘ I
go ‘no. We‘ve done enough.‘ ‘Oh, we really want to do a cover, really…’ No. I don‘t have any
record coming out soon, I don‘t have anything to talk about, I don‘t want to talk about Lollapalooza, I
don‘t want to talk about FBI video bullshit, I don‘t want to talk about Axl
Rose liking the band: so what. No, no, no‘ ‘But we really feel we need
the cover to catch up on what‘s happened with your band.‘ “This is about the
time when I turn on the TV and I see ‘Head Like A Hole,‘ which is now in Buzz
Bin, a year and a hall after it was turned down originally...“ Oh to have the
look that follows that one as a weapon... “Look, we really want to do a cover
and what we want to do it about is how you guys have made it without MTV, for
the most part, without radio, without big corporate magazines like us. We want
to talk about how you did it and your whole approach.‘ ‘Oh. Really?‘
“I‘m thinking OK, we‘re not going to be in the
public eye for quite some time, at least until there‘s a record... maybe I should
do this. ‘Oh, if it‘s about that...‘ and there‘s a bit of ego involved there
too,“ he freely admits. “It‘d be nice to be acknowledged by those people. I
don‘t mean Spin as much as their middle America mainstream audience.“ Of
course...what better revenge then to have that cretinous jock who dissed you in
high school see you on the cover of Spin...
“‘OK, we‘ll do it.‘
“The guy shows up, in New Orleans: ‘so,
industrial music: what do you think the future of it‘s going to be?‘
“’what!!??’”
“‘OK, so you guys are an industrial band. What exactly is
that?’“
“’WHAT!!??’”
“‘Look, is this going to be the new heavy
metal?‘ I am panicking. Shit! ‘Well, ummm, errr,‘
and I am thinking this guy doesn‘t know anything
about what he‘s talking about. I am in an interview and I want to hit this guy but I can‘t,“ he snarls. “So I started trying to talk but I am panicked.
‘You want a beer?‘ ‘Yes, I want a beer. Yes, I would like five more beers.‘ I
am trying to steer him back on track and he keeps coming back to industrial
music, like he had just heard that term for the first time at Lollapalooza. And
that‘s what prompted that infamous Front Line Assembly comment. He just kept on
me about industrial music until I said ‘I don‘t even like what you don’t even
know would be considered today’s more…’ and I said that thing about Front Line.
And I realize as I said it that I don‘t even have any real animosity: I don‘t
even know those guys. I don‘t like their music and I would tell that to their
faces. But I don‘t know the people. I
can like somebody as a person but not like their art. So that‘s basically what I
said.
“I left that Interview and called John (Malm,
Trent‘s steadfast manager) and said ‘this is a disaster, this is the worst
that it could possibly be.‘ So the thing comes out and arrrgghhh,“ as he plants his slender hands over his face, raking
his fingers up into his dark tangle of hair. “Arrrghh, all right, I did this to myself because I said I would do it.
Industrial music, blah, blah, blah... aarrghhhh!!
So now that‘s in big print, and it‘s a big disaster. I write a letter to Billi
Leeb to say I‘m sorry, I didn‘t mean to say it, hate me, I‘m sorry. So the
shitstorm begins, and that‘s when I became a complete recluse rather then just
a partial one,“ he concludes.
“And the point of me bringing that whole thing
up is I acknowledge making mistakes with the media. With us, there‘s a specific
situation where over the last couple of years the alternative has become the
mainstream, quite obviously; when you can take a band like the Lemonheads and
label them alternative, it doesn‘t mean anything anymore. If Skid Row came out
with their first album today I am sure their whole marketing team would term
them alternative and they would have flannel clothes on. Who are the biggest
bands: Nirvana? Pearl Jam? Smashing Pumpkins? Well, they deserve it more then Pearl Jam. It‘s become a thing where who is
more legitimate now. ‘I am alternative so I am legitimate,‘ versus Bon Jovi,
with whatever you‘d call him. When you add this to the stew of the electronic
world where we came from, with the pocket of tight knit fans and the scene, of
which we were influenced by... I think the fact that we got big, and I may
sound egotistical, but in my opinion, when we got big, major labels said, ‘hey,
what‘s happening, let‘s get bands like that.‘ And imagine you‘re in an A&R
department: ‘Nine Inch Nails: what are these guys? Oh, they‘re called
industrial! Oh, who else is like that?‘
“But nowhere ever did I ever say we were an industrial band. In the world of fanzines,
people bitch that NIN aren‘t
industrial, Neubauten are!“ he
savagely sneers in total exasperation. “OK, fine, you‘ve heard those bands,
congratufuckinglations. I like them, I listen to them; I am not claiming to aspire
to be Throbbing Gristle someday. I appreciate them, I am friends with them, but stop!
I am tired people go around saying I invented banging on metal there for I
should be heralded as the second coming of Christ. Get your Neubauten tatoo and
leave me alone!“
“When we went to England I had this guy yelling at me going
‘well, what are you?!‘ ‘What am I?‘
‘Are you a electronic band using guitars, or are you an industrial band writing
pop songs?‘ ‘I don‘t know, I am not the one upset by not being able to categorize what I am doing.‘ ‘And onstage, your shows are theatrical, what is
that?‘ ‘I don‘t know, man; do you like it?‘ ‘Yeah.‘ ‘Then shut up!“ he snaps in
conclusion. “It’s bizarre! I try to treat people decently but no matter what I do there is going to be someone
saying something shitty.“
Trent has gotten to the top of a particular
hill way too quickly for some people‘s tastes and since he‘s the only dark
silhouette against the sky, it‘s open season on him. If you get a tatoo, Trent, just get a target. You‘ve already
got one imposed on your chest.
“It was awful,“ he sighs. “But if I had known
that what was happening... we‘ve
become a hundred times more conscious about who we talk to I felt horrified... people were like ‘oh, he‘s
an asshole.‘ Oh Jesus! A monumentally shitty feeling but that is what this
business is all about,“ he groans.
“I think pulling back worked to a degree. I am
not bitching, because I understand the process, but it’s hard to sit down with
somebody, have a conversation, and then that person gets to tell everybody
their impression of what was said, and if somebody didn‘t like you for some
reason...“ he frowns. “You sit down with them, and maybe their girlfriend likes
your band and that makes them uncomfortable,“ he sneers. “So the whole time
they‘re on you. And that enters into a question of journalism integrity. Are
you writing because you want to see yourself write? The guy who interviewed me
for Spin is a classic example of
that. Just talks about himself. ‘Hey, I
took a shit today and there were peanuts in it,“ he laughs. “Or are you trying
to give people information about music and a band?
“So when you do read that thing that you supposedly said in the context that you supposedly said it in, what are you
supposed to do? Write a letter? ‘ didn‘t say that!“ he whines. “Then you just
look like a big baby.“`
And that means that you must have said that something!
“Exactly,“ he laughs.
POP IS A FOUR LETTER
WORD
“But the thing that I feel good about is I have
never done anything that I never wanted to do. I have done things that have
fucked up, which I think over the scope of time will be erased, verses putting
out a shitty album that charted because of a single. I have never done that. And if my music is too
pop for your tastes, then don‘t listen to it! But I am not doing it so I
can...“ as he moodily shrugs.
There‘s an important little area that Trent
obviously understands, and that‘s the ability to construct a solid song
structure. That‘s a virtue, not a crime: most writers never grasp that vital
talent. Then Trent takes it an extra step by elegantly imposing that pop
structure into electronic music without making it smarmy...there‘s the hybrid
that attracts listeners. Trent nods, murmuring, “Let‘s take Coil for example.
If not my favorite band, then one of my favorite bands. I really think they‘re
awesome in terms of mood, sound sculpture, the whole deal. But I, myself, like
working in the context of working within certain degrees of accessibility. I
don‘t mean commercially, but I like the idea of being able to get a subversive
message through dressed up in a song you might be able to hum. I think as much
as I can appreciate experimental music that disregards any sense of structure
or chords, hooks, I tend to prefer a well written song, and I do aspire to do a
well written song. And if I can do that within the context of something that‘s
not as obvious but it can stick with you... that‘s the biggest challenge. The
challenge it not to sit down and come up with the coolest sounds through
noodling for an hour, but it‘s trying to have something to say and putting it
in a package that makes you want to hear it again.
Slip some message in, something you can relate to. That‘s all I‘ve ever tried to
do, and that‘s the capacity I work in. I find that more challenging then let‘s
just make art. That‘s like I you understand it, cool; if you don‘t, you‘re not
arty enough. And in that realm there are some people that are great; Neubauten
would be one of them, but there are a lot of bands that are shit! ‘Hey, we
don‘t know what we‘re doing but listen to how cool we are.‘ With a lot of those
bands, it‘s easy to point a finger at me. Hey, we‘re not even in the same
realm. I am not trying to do that. Come on over and we‘ll make some noise together.
I enjoy that, but at the same time I find a lot of it self- indulgent,“ he
dismisses.
AND NOW FOR A GOOD
EVENING RUINER
Trent‘s been going non- stop now for a long
time and I‘ve let him. I did have some type of structure in mind but since he‘s
providing ins own so be it. And he has another topic dear to Mm, stating,
“Which brings to mind something I want to mention. We spent three or four
months working on a video compilation for Broken. We had a video for ‘Pinion,‘
a video for ‘Wish‘ and one for ‘Happiness in Slavery.‘ The only one that
anybody saw was ‘Happiness in Slavery.‘ We were MTV stars for a week,“ he
scoffs.
“I talked to Peter [Christopherson] who did the
‘Wish‘ video. I said ‘look, I‘d like to come up with some kind of home video
for sale, but I don‘t want it to be video, video, backstage tomfoolery...“ he
laughing at that notion. Yes, tomfoolery and NIN really go together. He grins,
“That typical bullshit thing. So can you think of anything that would tie these
together, and I‘d like to do a video for ‘Gave Up,‘ the last song on Broken, which I love but I think
everybody else in the world hated. We will do that live,“ he suddenly promises.
That‘s fine by me.
“I said ‘if you‘re into doing it, let me know.‘
So he comes back with this whopper of a treatment: basically, it‘s along the
lines of Henry: Portrait of a Serial
Killer, where there‘s a lot of point of view where you‘re the killer.
Really creepy. So someone is abducted, and forced to sit and watch what‘s on
the TV, which are these videos, and what happens to him while he is watching
them. While he is being forced to watch it, the things that he sees on the
video the attackers do to this guy in varying degrees. So this fades in between
all the different videos, and at the end, ‘Gave Up,‘ which is the last track,
the video is what happens to him.
“So with that said, I thought about it... I was
aware of one thing. Murder plays a
very big role in this whole thing, and here I am living in the Sharon Tate
house. OK, and aren‘t I spooky,“ this
delivered with the familiar self mocking half smirk. “But I said just do it. So
he turns up with this footage which we edited at the house. It was...“ as Trent shakes his head. “I have never seen
anything as... you‘ll see. It is intense. It is real-looking, because a lot of
it is video, and we can get away with more effects because the quality is
supposed to be shitty. Intense. So
we‘re both into it because it was exciting, it was something that if I heard of
this I would think it was cool. But I like
that kind of stuff. So then he was ‘we can down play this, we can edit this
down.‘ I said ‘let‘s just make it the most intense thing that would make us
happy. Then at the end we‘ll see what we have to cut out to make it palatable
or even legal,“ he describes with an
evil grin.
This sounds better then vintage Clive Barker.
“So we got done with it and we‘re at the online
place, this high brow place and these people are like OH MY GOD, just terrified
of this thing. We‘re looking at each other like ‘this is awesome, but... where do we start? Let‘s go back and think about
this.‘ So I showed it to everybody in my camp, who worked for the label. One
guy who works with the artists was completely offended, thought it was
grotesque, hated it because of some of the content in it. Management said they
were into it but you see it and you just don‘t want to go out that night. It‘s
an evening ruiner type of thing.“
Definitely not the video to put on if you‘re
trying to impress someone on the first date. Trent bursts into laughter, gasping out a
vehement “NO! You won‘t see it at anyone‘s party... So we
thought this thing works as what it is, but let‘s wear the other cap. What can’t we edit out? We can‘t: it‘s the whole tone of the thing.
Trent then hypothesize, “Sooo... let‘s say we
put this thing out, and Interscope will have a big battle, it will be on MTV
news because there‘s this movie condoning rape and dismemberment. All right.
‘Oh, Trent did ‘Happiness in Slavery;‘ now he has to outdo himself.‘ This makes
that look like a Disney film, by the way,“ he slyly interjects. Oh. He then
reasons, “Every interview I do for the next five years is going to be what was
your social responsibility for putting this out, which I think is none; it‘s a
piece of art. It‘s a movie I funded, Peter did it, and it‘s interesting. Forget
that it‘s a music video, forget that it‘s NIN: it‘s an art film.“
Yeah, tell me another media fairy tale.
Trent shakes his head, describing, “So we
just decided to sit on it, which career- wise for Nine Inch Nails was the best
thing to do, although we spent a lot of time working on it. Maybe someday it
will make more sense to release it.
“I didn‘t want it to turn into ins media
grabbing stunt, which it wasn‘t meant to be.“
They‘re going to accuse you of that anyway
so...
“Yeah, no matter what I do, I know my
intentions for doing it,“ he states.
Having now viewed the little brute, I can see
why Trent chose to shelve it. He‘s absolutely
right: it would just further the happy legend of Trent the notoriously spooky boy
who indulges in sick imagery only for media attention. No, he’s just into
horror flicks: remember, he thanked horror master Clive “Hellraiser‘ Barker on Pretty Hate Machine. So let‘s put a real
twist on it: Trent‘s more well-adjusted then his critics since he‘s getting
this out of his psyche and into the light of day. In that sense, he turns out
to be an incredibly honest individual. But since hone is the scariest thing for
people to face, he is a scary person. How‘s that for reading into someone?
I‘m just glad I had some wine before viewing. I
can dissociate from dismemberment and necrophilia just like every other happy
pup who grew up on bad horror films, Vietnam and EC comics... but I still can‘t
tolerate tooth yanking scenes....
I WONDER WHAT THE FUTURE
HOLDS...
But first off, what about Trent‘s Nothing
label. Originally envisioned as a shell for Nine Inch Nails but funded by
Interscope, the label is already branching out and Trent has signed Pop Will
Eat Itself (“There‘s another band that for what they do, they‘re really good
at, but they never did shit over here. I have to blame it on the way they were
handled.“) and is trying to sign Coil (“Purely for the point of having domestic
releases where you don‘t have to spend 25 bucks an album.“).
Trent‘s favorite project, which he produced, is
Florida- based Marilyn Manson. (Do I detect a theme here?) He enthuses, “ think
they‘re really cool. They are really bizarre, but fairly accessible rock band,
but as politically incorrect as anybody I‘ve been around,“ he grins.
There‘s a realistic side to Nothing. “Also... I
don‘t know how much longer... I mean ten years from now I don‘t want to be
touring without no life at all, just my computer and my tour bus. There‘s going
to come a point where... I can‘t do both things. I can‘t do it. I have tried.
So at some point I would like to focus on production, which I would really like
to do more of, but Nine Inch Nails eats up every second of my life.“
Trent has done those famous remixes for
everybody from Curve to Megadeth, but doesn‘t see that as real production,
since you end up being more of a hired hand.
He also doesn‘t want to sound stupid, but he
does think it cool that he can help new, innovative bands who might be screwed
by major labels. He knows there are times when it‘s not going to work and he‘s
going to turn out being the villain in some band‘s mind but aside from that
he‘s very positive. It‘s good Trent still knows how to be positive.
Trent isn‘t as sick as everyone thinks he
is. He wouldn‘t even pose floating face downwards in the swimming Pool at his
rented digs. And I always trust someone with such a gloriously affectionate
pet. Trent even feeds the stray cats in that snobby, water-wasting neighborhood.
But the musical revenge continues. Trent‘s popular
with people on weird instinctual levels: he‘s every high school kid‘s dream of
making it big by lashing out at everyone and everything that made his life
miserable. But at this new level he‘s lashing hard at inner demons and that
wont sit well with casual listeners. This sounds too real, too...raw and sad.
He‘s going to alienate a large element with Downward
Spiral, but the legions of disenfranchised listeners will still feel its
powerful underlying message.
And there‘s enough disenfranchised kids to make
this fashionable once more. But then what are those LA clone bands going to do:
stock up on black hair dye and detanning solutions? Perfect. Just perfect.
|