Review: The Downward Spiral

The Downward Spiral

Nine Inch Nails

1994

I told you I was going to keep doing this!

I remember the first time I heard The Downward Spiral. I was 16 or 17 and still in high school. This was when I still just getting into Nine Inch Nails and by that same vein in the process of having my world rocked and life changed. It might sound like hyperbole but it's the truth. If I hadn't dared to venture beyond classic rock, which was the only genre of music I listened to at the time, I may have been a completely different person. I might have had a bafflingly narrow view of the world and appreciated things far less. It might seem like an odd thing to say but I really do think that The Downward Spiral was key in my mental and personal development, especially since I was at the edge of what is essentially childhood and about to fall into that vacuum known as adulthood. The first time I heard the album, I knew I was listening to something that "special" can't even begin to describe. This album upon subsequent listens as become a part of me the same way the discography has etched itself into my mind, and this is where my review starts.

The second full-length album entitled The Downward Spiral came a lengthy 5 years after the stunning debut of Pretty Hate Machine. Where Pretty Hate Machine laid the groundwork, and Broken (an EP) built upon it, The Downward Spiral marked not only a change in direction (as Broken was sheer sonic violence) but an improvement, further refinement and also an enormous leap forward, not only in sound but in the way the album is presented. There's far more cohesion and what I would call concentrated fury in this album than there was on Broken and Pretty Hate Machine. The Downward Spiral presents a more evolved NIN though the album itself is rife with chaos and passion. For that reason, The Downward Spiral continues to resonate heavily with me and other individuals.

This album communicates with the listener beyond the surface level. It says what is or was on your mind at the time or at some point. "At some point" still probably resonates with you because it's so deeply embedded in your thought process that when you revisit it, even unintentionally, the ground feels so familiar and you feel as if it hasn't been that long since you left.

It's like seeing an old friend and carrying on a conversation as if it hasn't been 10 years, or moved away, or something like that.

The Downward Spiral stays with you.

Sex, angst, isolation, a desire for peace, refined violent poetry, humor, raw imagery, and letting go, among other things.

If you want examples of these, just listen to Closer (also known as the sex anthem of everyone who wants to break free and abandon their inhibitions), March of the Pigs (the humorous fight song that stirs and swells an ocean of ferocity found inside us all), and Hurt (the song that you come to when you are feeling down and need something to reassure you, or at the very least liberate you if only for 6 minutes, my sweetest friend). I realize that these are the songs that are the most popular from this album but it's because they resonate with everyone on some level. Of course, the abuse and angst (in sex flavor- damn, did I really just say that?) and some dark humor is also present in Big Man with a Gun (just read the lyrics), and Heresy if you want something sacrilegious that you can also dance to and make you question (or at the very least voice what you're thinking when it comes to) religion (or the blind worship of an omnipotent deity). You know, stuff that you're probably all about when you're an angsty teenager who digs anarchy (and stuff you tend to revisit because things aren't going well and you need to hear someone who gets you). A Warm Place speaks volumes without having lyrics. Like a hug.

This album understands and will always understand you.

10/10

Calluses

My guitars need new strings.

This is and has been a recurring concern for at least two years now.

My classical nylon string guitar that I've had for about 15 years now is always in bad shape: always covered in dust, always going out of tune, always in need of at least one string.

My electric guitar is also in desperate need of strings. I have not changed them since I got it back in 2005. Except for the top string (the thinnest one). That one's been replaced a few times.

No, the problem isn't that they need to be fixed or have components replaced. It's that they need to stop being neglected.

The lack of new strings or strings in some cases should only serve as challenges to overcome but there is a wall. I've been here many times before but this time, the wall seems more daunting than ever. It feels almost permanent.

Something that would bring me hours of joy now serves as a flickering reminder of the hopes and dreams that I once held so close to my heart.

At one point, I really did want to be what the kids call a "rock star." You can thank countless hours spent listening to Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin for this, and being hypnotized by Santana's brilliant guitar work for this. Also, I was 16 and easily impressionable.

Then, when I was 18, I wanted to be a session guitarist. This was me trying to be an adult and take on adult responsibilities by taking a job but then I remembered that I couldn't read sheet music to save my ass.

I tried to start several bands in high school but people lost interest quickly, never had interest to begin with, or just got lazy and never stuck to a rehearsal schedule.

Last year was probably the last time I would ever try forming a band. I admit, a surf band is probably a relic of the past but a lot of people would disagree with a statement like that. The Space Cossacks, Laika and the Cosmonauts, The Mermen, etc. Still, the fact that equally enthusiastic people bailed on me again killed any enthusiasm I had for that fleeting shred of a dream of performing something so sacred (to me) and special in front of crowds for a long time. It probably killed any desire I had for starting bands, at least. Another callus.

My problem always seems to be a lack of motivation and a painful lack of inspiration.

And being trapped in a cycle of realizing the same thing over and over with nary a flicker of gold.

The tips of my fingers have become harder and more resistant to a similar cycle. Only difference is this cycle helped with something, the other seems to make me complain more (not a good thing.)

Damn.

Kicking

About three years ago, I passed up an opportunity to do something memorable so that I could do something that, for the most part, is considered dull and uneventful: talk to my girlfriend (at the time). That's it. Just talk.

Looking back on it, I kick myself for being so stupid though at the time I thought it was a great gesture of how much I thought she meant to me.

She even told me I had made a mistake but I didn't think of it that way. I just wanted to talk to her.

Last night, that same opportunity presented itself and I seized it.

About three years ago, a theater was screening On Her Majesty's Secret Service and was having George Lazenby (James Bond himself) present for Q&A. Yes. I passed up an opportunity to meet James Bond just to talk to my girlfriend whom I was losing interest in rapidly.

Talk about stupid.

Last night, another theater was screening On Her Majesty's Secret Service and had George Lazenby there for Q&A.

I redeemed myself and no longer kick myself.

But there is a sense of dissatisfaction looming. While I did get to see the movie (one of the better ones), and see James Bond, I couldn't get an autograph or picture with him. They said he was going to stick around after the movie for pictures and autographs but it turned out that he didn't even stick around for the movie.

I can't pretend to know exactly what goes through his mind but I can imagine reasons as to why he wouldn't want to stick around.

That being said, I no longer kick myself for having missed an opportunity to do something memorable: see James Bond in person.

I'm not sad that I won't be seeing the Rolling Stones in concert this year because $600 for seats is ridiculous! Even nosebleed seats are ridiculous! $150!

I hope they're still around in another 10 years.

Noet

This is not a poem.
It does not rhyme.
it does not speak
to the soul
which by now has been sold
and rented,
or to the heart
by now broken
and fragmented,
or to the mind
presently twisted, deranged
and demented.

These are not words,
for they are mute,
and are incoherent.
What you are reading is rhythmless,
atonal noise.
A clanging
grinding
shrieking
silence of meaning.
Ruddy ruckus of zero substance.

No images can be summoned.
They are as barren as can be imagined
cracked, dry, deserts atop mountains of crumbling cliches
gray with death
gangrenous grief

You will not listen
I will not speak
you do not care
I admit no defeat
a bear breathes mountain air

100 little doves take flight
the river continues to run
the sun swallows the night


This is not a poem.
It does not rhyme.

This is not a poem,
It does not speak.

Stagnant

This place isn't the same place it used to be a few months or even a few weeks ago.

I've hit another creative wall. Everything seems to be at a standstill.

While I am confident that this will pass, I am distressed that it bothers me as much as it does. I know it's natural to hit walls but I still don't like it.

I'm confident that I will come across something that will make things click and I'll just unleash a torrent of prose or something creative.

I'm not banking on the Stones or NIN giving me the tools for that because the likelihood of getting tickets to see the Stones tends to be very slim. And I have a feeling NIN tickets will sell out quickly.

Better start saving.

So much to do, so little time.

Toque del insomnio

Muchas noches me encuentro despierto y desesperadamente mirando a mi reloj y la hora. Mientras veo esos numeros, pienso, "quiero dormir." Desafortunadamente, es más facil decir y pensarlo que es lograrlo.

No sé la razón por cual no puedo dormir pero sí sé que me choca no poder dormir antes de las cuatro de la mañana.

Quizas se debe a mis pensamientos que nunca paran. Aunque esto es muy ridiculo porque pienso de lo mismo todo el día. Es decir- merezco un descanso, ¿no?

Me torturan. Solo puedo pensar en problemas, casi nunca existe una solución para lo que pienso.

The Rolling Stones return!

Earlier today, I was at work when the television announces that the Rolling Stones are going on tour this year. I left my post and gawked at the television in awe. Then this little exchange occurred:

Me: The Stones are going on tour!? Oh yes!
Lady: What do you know about The Rolling Stones? They've been around since before you were born!
Me: Well, Beggars Banquet is probably my favorite album of theirs.
Lady: ... 

She gave a little nod and was impressed and then I checked the tour dates.

I hope they announce a LA date soon, or that I can at the very least get tickets for the Anaheim show.

Hot damn am I excited! This could be only chances to ever see one of my favorite bands live in concert ever. And since it's the Stones, you know. In other words, this could be the last time

I'll definitely be wearing one (or both) of my Stones shirts.

These news got me all mixed up and unable to form a coherent sentence. Stones!

Words cannot describe how giddy I am.