You know, I thought I
was over assumptions. Still, I went to see Nine
Inch Nails last Thursday and was pretty sure of what I was gonnasee. Well I scene it and a
whole lot more.
Word has it the crowd
at Blue Cross Arena topped out at 5500. There was plenty of the black-leather,
black-rubber, white-faced, disenfranchised minions milling about. But alongside
the outsiders and the lunatic fringe were frat boys, sorority girls, rockers,
bikers, preppies, yuppies, dirt bags… as Archie Bunker would say, regular
Americans.
I also found out —
via a lucky fan at will call — that your backstage pass isn’t actually
activated until you call at least 15 of your friends and scream: “Omigod, omigod, omigod!”
The night wasn’t the
industrial funeral I’d expected. Nor was NIN’s music,
which — though mechanical, menacing, and still fairly depressing —
displayed more of a hard-rock twist. The kind you can grab onto and dig.
The band took the
foggy stage and performed “Love Is Not Enough” from
behind a scrim and with strobe lights like the ones in those Japanese video
games that give kids seizures. For its volume, the sound was remarkably clear. Frontman Trent Reznor sported a
crew cut and a set of pythons, looking as if he’d just gotten outta the joint. He loomed and leaned angrily over his mic as guitarist Aaron North spun and thrashed about in a
display of exuberance and showbiz that dwarfed Reznor’s.
The Electro Kings play The Beale Street Cafรฉ virtually every Saturday night. And man you’ve just gotta see ’em. Stuffed in the
front window like hipster marionettes, Luca Foresta
and crew played some mighty fine shufflin’ blues for
a modest crowd at the bar. Foresta’s harp tone is
awesome: from sweet bluebird to freight-train wail. A splash
of early rock ‘n’ roll along with Foresta’s penchant
for Dezi-duds make for a cool scene.
— Frank De Blase
This article appears in Mar 15-21, 2006.
