We rose early to hit the road. The trip was exciting and nerve-racking. We tore across the blistered and embittered freeways of California in record time. The pass through the white-topped mountains filled us with a calming euphoria, reminding us that our destination was not too far off. Sooner than we’d realize, we would be pulling into the busy streets of Reno, Nevada, mere hours before the concert event of a lifetime would be taking place. We were there to see the amazing Nine Inch Nails.
My suspicions that NIN would open with a brand-new song were quickly filled and were met by sheer astonishment. The set consisted of at least, if not more than, half new material. These new songs were, of course, beautifully composed, and each embodied that familiar aura of frustration and desperate introspection, while still able to show tremendous growth. Frontman Trent Reznor had shuffled to the side of using a more gritty instrumental sound instead of his cleaner, synthesized rhythms. He even played the tambourine in one song! Yet, for some reason, the crowd could only stand, dumbfounded, and soaked these newborn notes into their souls.
Moments later, the trembling mass of strangers converged through the common devotion to the maniac on stage, and their energy exploded when the band played a classic tune. Bodies gyrated and everyone sang along. Each word holds its own personal affinity for every individual.
I found it strange, that not only was it in the middle of the set, but I found a modestly gorgeous girl standing alone, while Trent serenaded out two weighted fleshes, with the tragically painful love song, “Hurt”.
The set was also diversely proportioned. Trent must be very tedious when determining his set-list, always being sure to play one or two tracks from each of his four currently available records: “Pretty Hate Machine,” “Broken,” “The Downward Spiral,” and “The Fragile.” And now within the next few months, NIN fans are anticipating the first full-length album of original material in about five years: 2005’s “With Teeth.”
The venue at the Reno Hilton was a relatively small auditorium, creating a very personal experience. Even though there was no direct communication between the crowd and the band, there was definitely an exchange of emotions and energies. The crowd didn’t respond very well as a whole, but there were enough individuals, like myself, that were feeding Trent some phenomenal wavelengths.
It still baffles me why people at rock concerts don’t dance, unless it’s in a “mosh pit”. It’s like everyone in these scenes have become so pretentious, that even dancing is taboo. I think I might have deeply offended a couple of “jockish” looking guys, simply by shaking my hips and waving my arms. Either that, or they thought I was a homosexual. Nonetheless, they were uncomfortable with the way I appreciated the music.
The set came to a close earlier than I had hoped, leaving us aching for more. It took me a few days of reccurring mental images before I came to grips with what I had recently experienced: a once-in-a-lifetime event that was worth every penny.
