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New Musical Express

 

21.09.1991

 

Nine Danke!

 

Text by Steven Wells

 

 

 

NINE INCH NAILS

Bristol Bierkeller

DEAR MR Trent Reznor. There are pop music baddies and pop music goodies (make up your own list, scribble ‘em on your pencil case) and I really wanted NIN to be on my side. I sort of liked the records, their dumb negativity, their squeaky bleakness and flashes of metal. I‘ll be best friends with any band that get so regularly lumped with The Revolting Cocks and their disgusting ilk. I came prepared to be awed.

Your band emerged from behind a barrage of eardrum-rupturing noise and grey fumes and... Oh my God! It‘s Adam And The Ants! Not the good Adam And The Ants with the funny Jolly highwayman costumes and feathers in their hair, but the posy, posturing utterly totally, definitively KER-RAP! pre- ‘sell-out’ art-school version. I mean, you even do the Ants‘ song ‘Physical‘ and manage to make it sound crapper and even more ridiculous than the original.

OK, so looks aren‘t everything, but they‘re at least 50 per cent of a live show and, I‘m sorry, but the sight of a pretentious little boy with a silly haircut crouched behind a microphone making strange“ gestures with his hands like some awesome rock messiah always makes me want to laugh, at first. After about half an hour I felt bored and nauseated. Yes, I know the kids think you‘re some sort of really cool gut-level intellectual cum poet, but they thought the same thing about Kirk Brandon. Doesn‘t that worry you?

Mr Trent Reznor, I‘m sure you‘re a wonderful guy, I bet you love small children and dogs and are a warm and sensitive lover. But onstage you are about as much fun as Christmas in a genital cancer ward. An evening watching your band is about as pleasurable as three-way sex with Mr and Mrs Himmler.

And yes they sounded awful too. Almost every song plodded along, got good right at the end with some fancy metal guitar and then got crap again. I mean, I‘ve seen some tedious gigs in my time, I‘ve sat through some hideous hours of unlistenable, tuneless, dull shite -  Spear Of Destiny, Theatre Of Hate, Ned‘s Atomic Dustbin, New Order, Fields Of The Nephilim, Man O‘War, Big Country (AAAAGH! My head hurts just thinking about them) - but you really take the industrial disco biscuit.

If you choose to make a T-shirt out of the review you will be invoiced accordingly.

Yours sincerely,

Steven Wells

 

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