This is just a snippet from the Kerrang article:
Certainly the man who greets us this morning in a cavernous but unassuming photography studio deep in the wilds of California outwardly exudes health and calm – skin tanned, muscles bulging, eyes bright and sharp. Trent Reznor has never been a man tongue-tied in the face of a journalist’s tape recorder, but the candour and eloquence of his revelations – regarding five years of change, relocation, trauma, and realisation – is startling. And he hardly hesitates to share them. Within seconds of a simple opening question, he’s telling all with nary a twitch.
The solutions began as ‘The Fragile’ tour wound down; the problems began much earlier.
“I reached a point in my life where I had to get my shit together, figure out that there was a human being that was being neglected,” he muses, sipping a black coffee in an impersonal side-room. “There was a persona that had run its course. I needed to get my priorities straight, my head screwed on. Instead of always working, I took a couple of years off, just to figure out who I was and working out if I wanted to keep doing this or not. I had become a terrible addict; I needed to get my shit together, figure out what had happened.
“I always thought that I was pretty average when it came to drinking and everything else,” he continues, unflinchingly. “We toured ‘The Downward Spiral’ a
real long time, nobody had a house, we just stayed on tour. And it was great, but when the tour ended I went straight into doing the ‘Antichrist…’ record with Manson, and pretty soon I realised I get fucked up a lot. Pretty much every day I got fucked up. But I was functioning.
“I didn’t realise at the time, but that was the beginning of a pretty intense struggle; it was impacting upon my life. I was drinking, but a few drinks in me and if someone suggested getting some cocaine it would seem like a
fantastic idea… it still seemed like a great idea 24 hours later, picking through the grains of the carpet looking for more (laughs). After a while I realised I wasn’t in control. The price wasn’t just feeling bad the next day; I was starting to hate myself. That led to a path of fucking around with it, procrastinating, until I decided there was a decision to be made, which was either to get better or to die.”
He pauses, just for a moment.
“And, unexpectedly, my life’s been exponentially better since then. It was four years ago, and it’s led to a series of changes, a shake-up in the longest relationship I’ve ever had in my life with my best friend, the manager I started off with. I realised, with my new-found sense of clarity, that we didn’t have a healthy relationship.
“And my moving from New Orleans to California…” he explains. “I got tired of being ‘out of the loop’, I guess. I have a tendency to isolate myself. What attracted me to New Orleans was that it was like living on a different planet. You were left alone. If you enjoyed ‘leaving the planet’, too; it was a good place to be.”
The next step was a course in psychotherapy.
“Because I though, ‘What the fuck, whatever it takes’. My way sure wasn’t working. I always though I was smart, that I could ‘lick’ anything because I’m smart enough to work anything out. It’s been a very humbling learning experience, of being right in the gutter – it’s one thing to talk about hitting the bottom, to flirt with it, this romantic notion of a dark side. Embracing it and getting really deep into it? I don’t ever wanna go there again. I’ve been there, and it was
not good.”
For Nine Inch Nails’ artistic landscape, that ‘dark side’ has always been there. It informs Reznor’s every lyric, his flirtations with it, his panicked and disgusted recoil from it. Maybe it’s an obsession; he knows he’s drawn to it, but he can’t shake the suspicion that it stalks him too.
“Like recording ‘The Downward Spiral’ in the Manson House,” he laughs. “We didn’t go searching for that house, it crept up on us. We chose it only because it was the best location, and when the facts came out we just thought, ‘well, that’s an interesting piece of weird Americana we just inhabited’. I never dreamed I’d still be talking about it with journalists 10 years later. When we left the house they were tearing it down, so I had the front door shipped to my studio in New Orleans, which, out of pure necessity, had been a funeral home 10 years before. It makes for the dream press-pack, I know,” he grins wryly. “But that was never our conscious intention.”
Nevertheless, he takes great relish in relaying this next macabre chapter in the NIN storybook; further proof for Reznor that The Dark Side is pursuing him and not just the other way around.
“I recently closed my Nothing studios in New Orleans, and Alan Moulder brought the mixing console on which we recorded a number of projects – it’s the best desk he’s ever used,” grins Reznor. The guy who re-assembled it at Alan’s studio made an interesting discovery though. These huge circuit boards are usually constructed by one guy, and the guy who originally built this was an obsessive/compulsive, which isn’t good in life but is apparently great if you have to wire up 96 channels of sound for a recording studio. Anyways, one day this guy goes into the woods and kills his girlfriend with a circuit board tool. And the guy who was re-assembling this desk discovered the word c**t etched into one of the chips.”
This is the second time Reznor has uttered the word c**t in the interview. The first was in reference to a little lyrical investigation, an idle musing on the appearance of the word love in two of the album’s song titles, particularly the vituperative ‘Love Is Not Enough’, and the question of whether either song was written about fleeting ex-paramour Courtney Love.
“I would never…” he snaps back. “ She doesn’t bother me enough to make me write a song that has anything to do with that c**t. No.”
Even if their targets are veiled, the lyrics to ‘With Teeth’ – speaking with the wisdom of Reznor’s recent revelations – are prime NIN. Unlike previous albums, which were written with a concept in mind, Reznor feels ‘With Teeth’ works simply as an album of, “13 songs that are friends with each other”. There are themes however.
“After I got clean it felt like I’d landed on a different planet somehow. It looks the same, kinda, but everything is different,” he explains. “Learning lessons from listening to people, realising the humbling truth that I
don’t know everything and that my way isn’t necessarily the best way. The idea was for the record to start from a place of panic and fear and gradually find a sense of acceptance. It’s a difficult journey that begins with a nightmare, the nightmare of what I was going through.
"Shortly after I got clean 9/11 happened,” he sighs, tackling another key influence. “It feels like we’re in this weird police state now. The government isn’t telling us the truth, fear is now being pumped into our homes as a great motivator to just do what you’re told.”