As I sat there in 3rd grade, listening to the pounding beatsof
the Trent Reznor masterwork "Pretty Hate Machine," I knew then what music
was meant to be. Since then, every release from NIN has been a tragic abyss
of disillusionment that I peer into from the top of a cliff composed of my past,
hoping vainly to recapture the glory days of darkness and solitude from when I
drew upon NIN for strength.
Sadly, not a single piece of work completed by the band compares to the sound
emitted by my Sony Walkman at recess in 1990. Since then, I have come at every
album expecting the most life-changing sound ever (which "Head Like a Hole" was
for me, since my previous albums all starred Wierd Al) but Reznor keeps on
letting me down. He who had provided solace for me when I bet a kid I could drink
a whole box of milk through my nose and failed miserably was there for me
no more.
Even the rambling "Only" is too little, too late. It seems like an effor that is
not "adventurous" enough to make a difference. The really astonishing, amazing,
brilliant, unique music these days is coming from completely original bands, such
as Interpol, the Strokes, and the Libertines.
