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Reznor Resurrected

By Simon Price for Metal Hammer on June 10, 2005

ā€œI needed to do something or I wasnā€™t gonna be around.ā€ The gym-buff biceps and twinkling eyes of the man draped across the plush Park Lane sofa donā€™t look like they belong to someone recently scratching at deathā€™s door. But for Trent Reznor, reluctant icon of industrial rock, the last decade has been - to quote one estranged friend, ā€œa long hard road out of hellā€.

The one time chemically braced berserker behind Nine Inch Nails is now a courteous, thoughtful Evian-sipping soul. Like the 12 Step survivor he is, heā€™s prone to lengthy self-analysis. The answer to one question can last 25 minutes - a possible shield against being asked another (that way, Trent maintains control). Dig too deep, and heā€™ll puff his cheeks and blow, ā€œThatā€™s a tough questionā€¦ā€

Reznor is speaking to Metal Hammer due to a sudden burst of renewed NIN activity, which includes an enhanced version of the classic ā€˜Downward Spiralā€™, a series of UK live shows and the release of an excellent new album, ā€˜With Teethā€™ - a record for which NIN fans have had to endure a six-year long wait.

ā€œWhat took this record so long? I needed to clean up. Get my life in order. And after the last tour in 2001, I was a mess.ā€

ā€œAnd if this sounds melodramatic, Reznor assures you itā€™s not. ā€œIt wasnā€™t gonna be another way. It was gonna be the end.ā€

To understand how Trent Reznor nearly met that premature end, we need to go back to his beginnings.

You begin to understand the trapped rage of NINā€™s early music while flying over the American Midwest. Tiny sporadic settlements are separated by mile after endless mile of square farming fields. Trapped rage may be an essential requirement in rockā€™n'roll these days, but for Michael Trent Reznor, born almost 40 years ago in rural Pennsylvania, and raised by his grandparents in the arse end of Ohio after his parents divorced, there were no reference points. This was an age, and a place, that left you completely fucking isolated.

ā€œI donā€™t wanna paint a picture of a terrible childhood,ā€ Reznor is at paints to point out. ā€œI had a loving family. But where I grew up was pretty much in the middle of nowhere. It was pre-internet, and Iā€™m trying to work out how much that would change things - probably quite a lot. It was pre-MTV. There was no college radio. The only real way of getting stuff was Rolling Stone magazine, which was not as ass-kissingly corporate as it is now, but it certainly wasnā€™t cutting edge.

ā€œYou could see your destiny. People talked about ā€˜high school, the best years of your lifeā€¦ā€™ā€ says Reznor. ā€œWell, it sucked for me! I didnā€™t fit in. I wasnā€™t praised for throwing a football or whatever. But for a lot of people itā€™s the last bit of freedom before settling into the 30 year mortgage. ā€˜Be realistic. Sheā€™s good enough, marry her.ā€™

ā€œIt came back to haunt me, I felt inadequate. ā€˜What do I know? Iā€™m from a little farm town in the middle of nowhere.ā€™ I later used drugs and alcohol to compensate for that.ā€

Did a small-town upbringing have any benefits?

ā€œIf I was in an urban environment I would have probably become an addict a lot quicker. There werenā€™t many drugs around where I was growing up. Though later I found out that the local Amish Dutch (a reclusive Christian sect who live a strict 18th century lifestyle) community were running a cocaine ring. Those clever little fuckers. That would have been as convenient as Hell, but I didnā€™t know. Who would have imagined there was a couple of bricks in the back of the horse and buggy!ā€

Reznorā€™s desire to escape was fuelled by the ā€œimpenetrable world of TVā€.

ā€œYou canā€™t get to that world if you live here - sorry!ā€™ Looking back - through a romantic haze - it was TV that drove me to plan how the fuck I was gonna get out of there.ā€

The answer, of course, was music. There were a few low-grade garage bands - they didnā€™t come to anything. And then Trent, a classically trained pianist in his teens, got a job as a cleaner in a studio to pay for some demo sessions which, in turn, got him signed to TVT records (a label with whom he would later fight a bitter dispute).

The result was ā€˜Pretty Hate Machineā€™, a debut album that, with the help of singles ā€˜Sinā€™ and the anthemic ā€˜Head Like A Holeā€™, eventually sold gold. Simultaneously as dark as Ministry but as catchy as Depeche Mode, it featured what would later become trademark Reznor lyrics about manipulation and betrayal - the sound of a young man making sense of the music he grew up with.

ā€œI havenā€™t sat and listened to ā€˜Pretty Hate Machineā€™ for a while. I was in a transitional phase. My first record, I didnā€™t know how to write or arrange songs or how a studio works, but I got a deal. And I wanted to work with someone who could take the music further out.ā€

Trentā€™s first choice, Adrian Sherwood (dub-rock producer who worked on Ministryā€™s ā€˜Twitchā€™ - one of Reznorā€™s favorite records), was refused by TVT for being relatively unknown. Eventually they compromised with John Fryer (who had worked with ethereal 4AD acts like This Mortal Coil), and Flood (U2, Depeche Mode).

ā€œItā€™s a record that, at the time, felt like the best I could do.ā€

When the time came to perform his primarily electronic, digital songs live, notably on Perry Farrellā€™s 1991 Lollapalooza tour, Trent was forced to view his music in a new light.

ā€œPlaying live is a whole different animal,ā€ says Trent, who shelved the DAT machines for ā€œreal people sweating, and donā€™t worry if it doesnā€™t sound like the record so much.

ā€œThe response was violent - I screamed, and people screamed back. I was way too anal, way too studio, up my own ass. I needed a more visceral flex of the muscle. Thatā€™s primarily why ā€˜Brokenā€™ sounded the way it did.ā€

The ā€˜Brokenā€™ EP, or mini-album (and its remixed version ā€˜Fixedā€™) was Reznorā€™s first stab at independence (by now, TVT had been swallowed by Interscope, though Trentā€™s own imprint, Nothing, was appearing on NIN releases), his first fuck-you to record company meddling and, arguably, his first great record.

ā€œā€˜Brokenā€™ was recorded kind of in secrecy. The record company were interfering in a way I couldnā€™t put up with, instead of saying, ā€˜OK, we didnā€™t understand. Just do what you do, weā€™ll sit back and take your money.ā€™ They said, ā€˜You sold a million records, now weā€™re gonna sell four million, but youā€™re gonna use this guy.ā€™ It came down to, Iā€™d rather kill Nine Inch Nails after one album and an EP than make records with Fine Young Cannibals because they happen to be in the charts that week.ā€

Trent won the argument, with staggering results. ā€˜Brokenā€™, and most notably its exhilarating pivotal track ā€˜Wishā€™, focused the NIN sound like sunlight through a spyglass. Lyrically laced with dark humor (ā€Donā€™t think youā€™re having all the fun/You know me I hate everyoneā€), where ā€˜Pretty Hate Machineā€™ was angry at the world, ā€˜Brokenā€™s knives were directed inwards. (ā€Iā€™m the one without a soul, Iā€™m the one with just this fucking holeā€).

ā€œThatā€™s the entrance of that, yes. That turned into ā€˜The Downward Spiralā€™ā€¦ā€

THERE were three great quasi-suicidal, misanthropic angst-rock masterpieces released in ā€˜94 - Nirvanaā€™s ā€˜In Uteroā€™, The Manic Street Preachersā€™ ā€˜The Holy Bibleā€™ and, perhaps the most underrated of the bunch, Nine Inch Nailsā€™ ā€˜The Downward Spiralā€™.

Recorded in 10050 Cielo Drive, the Hollywood house where Charles Mansonā€™s ā€˜Familyā€™ murdered actress Sharon Tate (Reznor maintains he didnā€™t know this when he moved in), ā€˜The Downward Spiralā€™ was a draining emotional journey in which a brutally honest Reznor dealt with all manner of demons.

ā€œIt was about me, but a projection of me, a character who systematically destroys all these different things in his life in the search for some sort of answer. And in the crossfire isā€¦ sex, relationships, trust, the spectre of religion and its flaws and its lies and its hollowness, and drugs, and a sense of purpose, and self-loathing and desperationā€¦ā€

Its most famous song is its finale, ā€˜Hurtā€™ - as covered so heartbreakingly by Johnny Cash, the original Man in Black, on his ā€˜American Recordingsā€™ swan song.

ā€œā€˜Hurtā€™ was the last song I wrote,ā€ Reznor reveals. ā€œAnd it nearly didnā€™t make it on. But I felt the record wasnā€™t finished. There was this sense of remorse, like Iā€™d smashed everything in the room and was sitting in the middle of a pile of broken stuff, and Iā€™m not sure what Iā€™ve done and maybe it wasnā€™t the right thing to do. Then the record comes out, and that becomes my life, or my life becomes that record. Almost to a tee.ā€

ā€˜The Downward Spiralā€™ was a massive success, selling platinum and Reznor threw himself into touring the album (NINā€™s mud-spattered performance at Woodstock 2 was universally hailed as that festivalā€™s highlight). Behind the scenes, Trent was going off the rails big time.

ā€œI wasnā€™t prepared for the whirlwind that follows a hit record, emotionally or mentally. I was at my most miserable when I had everything I ever wanted. Iā€™m not saying itā€™s a terrible thing - itā€™s a GREAT thing - but when every aspect of your life changes, you canā€™t sit back and watch it, you canā€™t understand it. Youā€™re in the cyclone.ā€

Enter Trentā€™s little helpers, in liquid and powdered form.

ā€œI was in one of the biggest bands in the world, and still felt like I wasnā€™t good enough. Iā€™d walk into a room with five people in it, and feel completely intimidated, like my skin was on fireā€¦ I wasnā€™t good enough. The quickest way to deal with that was to have a drink, and the fire went out - ā€˜Iā€™m funnier than I was a minute ago, and more interesting.ā€™ā€

And cocaine, of course, suppresses the self-doubt.

ā€œTemporarily. Then thereā€™s a lot more self-doubt. Itā€™s a good 15 minutes thoughā€¦ then you get off the tour bus two years later thinking, ā€˜Who the fuck am I? And who are all these people around me?ā€™ ā€˜Iā€™m the guy thatā€™s in the magazine, right?ā€™ You become a scarecrow, a projection of what people read into you.ā€

Reznor has never courted celebrity. Apart from a brief and acrimonious professional and personal relationship with Courtney Love (Reznor was another of her 90ā€™s rock star notches), he doesnā€™t have a high-profile private life.

ā€œItā€™s about knowing when to say ā€˜Noā€™. Itā€™s not like it was when I was growing up. Thereā€™s the inernet now, and MTV, and music channels pumping shit. There is a way to over expose yourself. I donā€™t seek mystique - itā€™s not that Iā€™m afraid of people finding out stuff about me - but giving away too much is a bad thing. Maybe if youā€™re, I dunno, Creed, it doesnā€™t really matter. But if you do something with some depthā€¦ Iā€™d rather you were curious, than sick of hearing about me.ā€

As a result, Trent can walk around mostly unmolested by the public.

ā€œAround the time of ā€˜The Downward Spiralā€™ I got hassled, but less now. I usually go around as a woman, which throws people off. Iā€™ve tried to make a point of not letting my personality becomeā€¦ā€ He chooses his words carefully. ā€œIā€™ll say this, I think there are certain people whose personality gets in the way of the music. And maybe their personality is whatā€™s good about them anyway. Not so much the music.ā€

Who can he mean? Marilyn Manson was being looked after by Trent some 10 years ago. Does Reznor feel like Dr. Frankenstein eclipsed by the fame of the zombie he helped create?

ā€œTo some degree. I have mixed feelings about the whole thing, because from a business point of view, for the record label, it was wildly successful. I think heā€™s a talented guy, and Iā€™m not taking credit where itā€™s not due. If there was a valid role I had, it was helping provide a framework to allow him to do what he wanted to do. And then the whole thing happened, andā€¦ whatā€™s done is done. As a human, as a friend, Iā€™m disappointed.ā€

Reznor signed Manson to Nothing records in 1992, and MM became regular Nine Inch Nails tour mates and the pair became close friends. Mansonā€™s (brilliant) autobiography The Long Hard Road Out Of Hell tells tales of he and Reznor indulging in drug-fuelled depravity (kidnapping, condiments, handcuffs, groupies etc), while the two bands worked simultaneously on ā€˜Portrait Of An American Familyā€™ and ā€˜The Downward Spiralā€™.

The duo disagreed over the musical direction Mansonā€™s ā€˜Antichrist Superstarā€™ should take. Silly conflagrations ensued - Manson members smashing up NINā€™s gear and vice-versa. The situation came to a head when Reznor stole the job of providing the soundtrack to David Lynchā€™s The Lost Highway from under Mansonā€™s nose.

ā€œIā€™m not blameless for sure,ā€ Reznor admits. ā€œBut part of it isā€¦ we were friends, I was helping him out, then heā€™s on my label, then heā€™s opening for my bandā€¦ and the competitive nature of it got to him. You get tired of answering questions about your ā€˜big brotherā€™. And when you sprinkle lots of money and drugs on top of thatā€¦ā€

He sighs, and repeats; ā€œIā€™m disappointed. But you lose friends along the way.ā€

If Manson was unhappy about The Lost Highway, Reznor in turn was unhappy about the revelations in Long Hard Roadā€¦ On NINā€™s next album, ā€˜The Fragileā€™, Reznor wrote a song, ā€˜Starfuckers Incā€™ clearly aimed at his former protĆ©gĆ© (ā€I am every fucking thing and just a little more/I sold my soul, but donā€™t you dare call me a whoreā€). Ouch.

They did patch up their differences, to the extent that Manson joined Reznor to sing the song at NINā€™s Madison Square Garden show in May 2000, and Manson even volunteered to direct and co-star in the video. But the feud resumed and Manson quit Nothing and signed directly to Interscope. They have not spoken since.

ā€œWeā€™re at different situations in our lives. Thereā€™s a toxic element to him that probably wouldnā€™t be healthy for me to be around.ā€

Trent still canā€™t resist a dig.

When the FAQ section on official website NIN.com asked if he had plans to record any cover versions, Reznor replied he was, ā€œhoping to do something unique and pertinent - like an exact copy of ā€˜Personal Jesusā€™ - but it was already taken.ā€ Miaow!

ā€œI donā€™t spend a lot of time thinking about him,ā€ he says. ā€œUntil Iā€™m in Europe and people ask me about him. Because you still remember him over here.ā€ Double miaow!

FOR the first decade of his career, Reznor was something of a workaholic. As well as recording and touring with NIN, he ran a record label - whose roster included Meat Beat Manifesto, Plug, The The, 12 Rounds, Coil, Clint Mansell and (NIN offshoot) Tapeworm - and licensed Warp records in the US. He made the Lost Highway and the stunning Natural Born Killers soundtracks, contributed to the Tomb Raider and Crow soundtracks and the Quake computer game, remixed N*E*R*D and Bowie, collaborated with Tori Amos and, of course, produced Manson.

ā€œI didnā€™t want anything in my life that wasnā€™t fulfilling my potential as an artist. I maybe had a gift, and I had an opportunity to make a career out of it. Every minute spend not working on music was a minute lost, which may be a noble way to look at life when youā€™re 23, but Iā€™m still living that life and Iā€™m 39. Thatā€™s what paved the way for me to become an addict. I found I could do things myself, and I didnā€™t think I needed anybody else. I didnā€™t need a friend, I didnā€™t need a girlfriend, I didnā€™t need a producer, I didnā€™t need a band. Iā€™ll do everything myself. Fuck you!ā€

Unfortunately, by the time NIN came to make their third proper album, ā€˜The Fragileā€™, Reznor was every type of ā€˜holic going and very fragile indeed. A sprawling double, long on experimentation but short on lyrics (ā€I was more or less unable to write themā€), recorded with Depeche Mode producer Alan Moulder, itā€™s NINā€™s most flawed release. An unfinished record even?

ā€œTough question. Iā€™m not just saying this to justify it, but itā€™s an accurate snapshot of my life at that time. I made the best record I could, with the tools available and, I was terrified, I was overcompensating. Iā€™m proud of it. It was made in insane circumstances, and the effort that went into itā€¦ it was camaraderie-filled. But I hope I never make a record like that again.ā€

Does it stand up now?

ā€œI listened to it for the first time in a long time, and I can see where I was, and what was about to happen.ā€

Which was?

ā€œI was the guy on the ledge, ready to jump. I had to get to a true bottom. Thatā€™s why the last two records took so long. This started in ā€˜96 or ā€˜97, and it took me that long to stop lying to myself and deal with it. I kept digging deeper until I was as low as I could go.ā€

Two events caused Reznor to hit rock bottom. Firstly, a friend of his was shot in the face (he only heard about it on the TV news), and subsequently, Reznor took a massive amount of what he thought was cocaine that turned out to be heroine, landing him in hospital in a critical condition.

ā€œSo, 2001 rolled around, and I was scared enough thatā€¦ I was ready to do whatever it took. I wanted to continue to live. I didnā€™t wanna be that guy anymore.ā€

Like seeking help?

ā€œI went to a treatment place, from 12 Step programs to meetings, to psychiatry. You name it.

ā€œI wanted to be told. To listen for a change, to realise I donā€™t know everything - I donā€™t - and that sometimes giving up is winning, rather than defeat. I realised, when Iā€™d detoxed and become physically un-addicted, that I needed to figure my priorities out.ā€

But he didnā€™t rush back into the recording process.

ā€œOne reason was fear. I didnā€™t know if I could write, if I could think. I didnā€™t know if Iā€™d destroyed my brain. Also, I didnā€™t know if I had anything to say.ā€

Trent was relieved to find that, without his chem-dependence, his muse flowed even more freely.

ā€œAn interesting shift took place in the early stages of recovery - away from the addict life I was grieving - like someone flipped a switch and all of a sudden Iā€™m swimming with the current.

ā€œBefore, I believed I could out-think this. ā€˜Iā€™m too smart.ā€™ And then you start to feel like your life is a Behind The Music episode - ā€˜Oh, Iā€™m that guy. And there are a couple of guys Iā€™ve turned into that I didnā€™t think I was.ā€™ I didnā€™t think I was the addict guy and I didnā€™t think I was the guy whose manager took all his money (in 2004, Trent sued ex-manager John Malm for taking improper control of NINā€™s finances). But now Iā€™m this guy - and maybe Iā€™m not so fucking special. Maybe Iā€™m not such a unique case.ā€

With his confidence back, things happened fast.

ā€œSuddenly all this stuff starts flying out of me, ideas which had been stuck in a clogged pipe. Iā€™ve got a new set of tools and Iā€™ve got a new brain, and every 10 days I can do two songs, finished! Regardless of what was gonna happen commercially - you know, ā€˜Will people like the record? Will anyone remember me?ā€™ - being back on track was the main thing.ā€

ā€˜WITH Teethā€™ is, in many ways, NINā€™s most accessible record yet. In addiction to the familiar electro-metallic assault, it has one dancefloor-friendly track, ā€˜Onlyā€™, which boasts an infectious electro-disco groove.

ā€œIā€™ve heard it criticised for being poppy and I agree. Itā€™s accessibleā€¦ and I like it. A voice popped up in my head and said, ā€˜You can experiment with this, but it probably souldnā€™t make the record.ā€™ Then I thought, ā€˜Fuck what people think!ā€™ Last time around there were too many censors. The voices have kept waulity control pretty good up to now, but thereā€™s a fine line between quality control and terrified madness.ā€

And whatā€™s next?

ā€œI canā€™t believe all the time I wasted, being crazy. Iā€™ve got another record almost finished now.ā€

So it wonā€™t be another six-year wait this time?

ā€œWell, I sure as fuck hope not! It wonā€™t be for the same reason, put it that way.ā€

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