Nine Inch Nails
Things Falling Apart
[Nothing/Interscope]
Rating: 0.4
Usually, my first thought upon hearing the phrase, "When it rains, it pours,"
is of Morton Salt and its iconic logo: a strolling girl in a yellow raincoat
hoisting a purple umbrella to deflect airborne particles of sodium chloride.
And yet, though this girl seems not to have a care in the world, the phrase is
usually associated with a quick succession of unfortunate events (after all,
no "Today Show"-watching human being likes a downpour).
But when I used this phrase the other day, I had a different vision altogether.
I must first explain why. First, it took almost three hours to complete a
40-minute flight from Boston to New York. Second, I've been looking, or rather
finding, love in the all the wrong places. And third, I got fired. When it
rains, it pours, indeed. So then, the image: an open, festering wound a la
Requiem for a Dream, into which salt slowly trickled, fizzled, and
dissolved in a bubbly, bloody mess.
A bit dramatic? You bet, with some hyperbole added-- like salt-- for good
measure. But what better mindset could there be for facing Nine Inch Nails'
latest remix album? Trent Reznor, after all, has a distinct place in my
history: I was prevented from attending my junior high graduation because,
during the year-end dance, I "slamdanced" to "Head Like a Hole," kicking a
chair over in the process. I didn't deserve that then, and I don't deserve
this now. But that's what NIN is all about: the weight of minor injustices on
human emotions.
The title was promising, if only because it mirrored my sentiments (so long
as it's not a tactless reference to Chinua Achebe's classic novel; plus, The
Roots got first dibs). Likewise for some of the song titles: "Slipping Away,"
"The Great Collapse," "The Wretched," "The Frail." Overdone yes, but sometimes
one wants unfiltered emotion, as much as it resembles adolescent angst. Little
did I know that the album and aforementioned song titles actually refer to
Reznor's talent.
Despite its inherent relation to The Fragile, Things Falling Apart
should, like any other album, stand on its own. But this album doesn't stand;
it never gets up. It's a toddler with two knobs for legs and arms like a Mr.
Potatohead. The 53 minute-long album kicks (read: dozes) off with "Slipping Away
(Into the Void Manipulation)" by Reznor and Brit mixer/engineer Alan Moulder.
Does this sound familiar?: a plodding, Neanderthal beat; a dated guitar; a
violin; searing but sanitized fuzz. Then, everything stops so Trent can scream
his first line: "I keep slipping away." After throwing in those same blips
he's employed since the beginning of time, the song becomes predictably
muddled and furious.
"The Great Collapse"-- the only new track here-- seems out of time, in a bad
way. It combines the simplistic beat of the Pretty Hate Machine era
with the tasteless piano atmospherics of his later work. "The Wretched,"
reinterpreted here by Keith Hillebrandt of the Nothing "collective," is
another "Hurt"-style subdued song that slowly builds and then crumbles. And
Benelli's take on "The Frail" is still a cheap, pseudo-stringed-quartet piece,
but with a few clanks here and there. Brilliant!
But here's the best part: three, count 'em, three remixes of the truly
unforgivable "Starfuckers, Inc." Dub producer Adrian Sherwood gives the song
a, well, dubby makeover. Skinny Puppy's Dave Ogilvie, hot off his work
remixing Mötley Crüe, goes the house route. And Charlie Clouser's version is
a drum-n-bass-via-trance journey that doesn't even remotely resemble the
original. All three remixes are slight improvements over the original, but
isn't that automatically the case?
The only bright spot here wasn't even originally composed by NIN: a cover of
Gary Numan's "Metal." Reznor drenches the first five minutes in fuzz, but
during the last two minutes, pleasant, unforced acoustic strumming and
quavering keyboards subtly rise above the fuzz. It's these two minutes that
saved the album rating from goose eggs.
I desperately wanted this album to speak to me. To join me in this rut. To
agree that yes, when it rains, it pours. But as suspected, it didn't. Instead,
it sunk lower-- way down below me. Listening to this album was so painful
that the festering wound no longer seemed so serious: a cut mends itself, but
Things Falling Apart is around for the long haul.
-Ryan Kearney