The Downward Spiral – Nine Inch Nails – Released March 8th 1994, Nothing/Interscope Records
The Downward Spiral is the second album from Nine Inch Nails (ᴎIN), the band project fronted by producer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist frontman, Trent Reznor.
It was released in March 1994 on Nothing Records, the label run by Trent Reznor, then operating under the Interscope Records banner, selling over 4 million copies in the US alone.
Five years after his groundbreaking debut Pretty Hate Machine, Trent Reznor refined his sound, doubling down on the industrial metal influences while ditching the more synth-pop elements in favour of an angrier and more abrasive sonic pallet.
The result was The Downward Spiral, THE defining rock and roll album of the 1990s.
The Downward Spiral tells the story of a man giving in to his self-destructive impulses, stripping himself of his humanity layer by layer before finally giving in to suicide.
Reznor would later cite Bowie, in particular his album Low, as a huge influence on the album.
The pair would later become friends with Reznor referring to Bowie as a “father figure” who helped inspire him to confront his demons and get sober.
But while the Trent Reznor of today is decidedly up above it, but back in 1994 he was still very much down in it. And while The Downward Spiral may have been a concept album telling the story of a nameless character, it very much reflected Reznor’s own mental state at the time of recording.
Nails In The Coffin
Although Nine Inch Nails was originally conceived as solo project, Trent Reznor enlisted the help of other musicians for the album, including guitarist Adrian Belew, keyboard player Charlie Clouser and drummers Stephen Perkins and Chris Vrenna.
Belew was a seasoned session guitarist who had also worked with the likes of Bowie and Zappa, Clouser appeared on numerous Nine Inch Nails releases and also worked with David Bowie, Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie and Meat Beat Manifesto, while Perkins was the drummer with Jane’s Addiction and Porno for Pyros.
Chris Vrenna, meanwhile, was the original Nine Inch Nails band drummer and would later go on to drum for Reznor’s protégé, Marilyn Manson, in addition to enjoying a successful production career.
Mark “Flood” Ellis, whose own enviable production resume also includes Cabaret Voltaire, Depeche Mode, U2, Nitzer Ebb, Renegade Soundwave, Pop Will Eat Itself and New Order, is the only producer to return from the previous Nine Inch Nails album.
Joining on engineering duties was British production legend Alan Moulder, who had also worked with Depeche Mode and U2, as well as with The Smashing Pumpkins and My Bloody Valentine.
To complete the aesthetic was graphic supervisor Gary Talpas, designer of the iconic NIN logo and British artist Russell Mills, who designed the album’s scorched and rusty cover art.
I Am The Voice Inside Your Head
The Downward Spiral didn’t just tear up the rulebook, it carved it open in a ritual sacrifice.
Trent Reznor relied on the then-new software Pro Tools plus a wide array of effects processors to create dense layers of unsettling sounds and samples.
Trent also poached percussion from varied sources, such as Iggy Pop and Art of Noise, mixed up with sci fi sound effects and horror movie drones.
Instead of a vocal booth, many of verses sounded like they were recorded in a torture chamber. The drums were banished to the dungeon dimensions while the guitar parts sounded so mangled and distorted one half expected the Cenobites to bust out the speakers and start lacerating your ear drums.
Add to all of this, the violently aberrant recording methodology; the bizarre panning and deliberate distortion of vocals, over-cranked screaming in one ear, hissy whispering in the other. Trent was purposely flouting all the conventions of professional studio recording as an aesthetic choice.
The result was the sound of a man on the very edge of mental freefall.
A deliberately disorientating sonic voodoo spell conjured up by an artist battling his own dual demons of addiction and depression.
And indeed it’s possible that other restless spirits may have bled through the audio cables and into the final product.
The album itself was infamously recorded at the Tate House, site of the infamous Manson Family murders which Reznor named “Le Pig” studios.
As a depressed teenager and eternal outsider with serious anger issues and an obsession with electronic music, Nine Inch Nails spoke to me on every level. I imprinted on this album instantly.
I discovered Nine Inch Nails via a schoolfriend who came up and said, “I’ve got the perfect album for you, ever heard of Nine Inch Nails?”
He then proceeded to paint a vivid picture of this demented, multi-instrumentalist who painted nightmarish collages using synths, samplers and electric guitars while living in the Manson murder house. “You interested?”
The guy knew me well.
We’d been swapping albums furtively for a year or so, the schoolyard rock vs rave feud was finally fizzling out and we had a nice musical exchange programme going. I’d give him an Aphex Twin album, he’d get me into Tool, and so it would go.
I remember running home and, delighted to have the house all to myself, cranked the volume up high, put the CD in and pressed play…
Industrial Action
Mr. Self Destruct starts off with a sample from THX 1138, George Lucas’ directorial debut.
The scene features a man being beaten with police baton, but as a teenager I was convinced it was Trent himself beating a punchbag to get out all his excess anger before unleashing his vocal onslaught.
Y’know, cuz he was so angry maaahn!
Mr Self Destruct is the perfect opener for this album and clearly demonstrates Reznor’s lyrical talents.
It’s a song about the various demons residing in our heads, controlling us and feeding our negative impulses.
It also marks the beginning of our would-be protagonist’s hellish descent while establishing the album’s overall tone.
The abrupt shifts in volume and intensity serve to reenforce the fact that this will not be an easy listening experience. While additional guitar from Adrian Belew add to the track’s intensity.
Piggy is the first of two songs on the album with a pig-related motif.
All the instruments are played by Reznor, including the demented snippets of drumming. These were originally just outtakes of him just messing around in the drum booth, but, being Trent Reznor, he decided to leave them in.
They might not necessarily sit perfectly, though they do add a chaotic sense of emotional intensity to the track. Which is exactly what this album is all about.
It’s difficult to explain the sense of liberation one felt that first time hearing Trent Reznor screaming, “god is dead and no one cares.”
In 90s Ireland this was exactly the kind of thing you wanted to play loud to piss the oldies off.
Only thing is, the synth arpeggio and drum loop sounded instantly dated when I heard it as a teenager.
By 1994 we already had stuff like Orbital and Aphex Twin so some of the synth parts on this album sounded like 80s throwbacks.
It’s less of an issue today but that was my only criticism at the time, and one which applied generally to American industrial metal from that era. It’s a point I’ll return to later but for now we’ve got a pork parade to contend with…
March of the Pigs blew my mind when I first heard it, that frantic drum loop with its bizarre time signature, the funky synth bassline and then the sheer fucking intensity of the guitar and vocals.
I still love to crank this one WAY up.
It’s the second pig-related song to appear on The Downward Spiral and was also the first single from the album.
Even today, 30 years on, this is a pure mindfuck of a track. There are so many unconventional recording decisions here that go beyond the multiple changes in time signature and tempo.
Ok so now we have a 4/4 electronic beat except the kick drum’s panned left for some reason,
the chintzy chords on “doesn’t it make you feel better” and then…
THE RAGE unleashed once more – this song is utterly demented and I adore it.
Closer is the second single from the album and swiftly became one of the defining songs of the 90s.
The drums were taken from Iggy Pop’s track Nightclubbing, which 90s heads might also remember from the Trainspotting soundtrack.
Added to this we get the sleazy synth bassline, the headbanging main guitar riff and, of course, that chorus.
There are also extended bridge sections with alien sounds all buckling under the weight of layers of guitars and distortion.
There will never ever be another song quite like this, so sleazy, so scary and yet it oozes pop sensibilities from every grubby pore.
Ruiner starts off with a really slamming drum loop sampled from Art of Noise further augmented with industrial whirring sounds.
Once again, we get a somewhat dated-sounding 80s arpeggio which, at the time, reminded me of Knight Rider.
A lot of the lyrics are practically incomprehensible so we had to read the inlay card to understand them. Once again, this was a deliberate aesthetic choice.
Just before the chorus we get a synth brass fanfare which really gives this track some cinematic gravitas, especially when paired with deep churning powerchords.
The Becoming is another one of the album’s stranger-sounding tracks, which is really saying something.
As a yoof who predominantly listened to dance music, the time signature alone was enough to mess with my head, that’s before the synth/piano riff, relentless drums and the sounds of a crowd screaming in horror looping over and over.
That sample, incidentally, comes from a 90s b-movie and it’s the sound of a crowd who have just been crushed by a giant robot – just in case you were wondering.
Keep in mind this was the 90s, the internet was brand new and computers were still a novelty, writers like William Gibson and Neal Stephenson were hip and straight to video cyborgs and giant battlebots were everywhere.
As a would-be cyberpunk I loved the lyrics to this one back in 1994 and Trent’s a vivid recount of a human transforming himself into an unfeeling machine sounds particularly poignant in 2024.
Amidst this screaming chaos we get a short acoustic reprise, but even then we have reverse voices trapped in the machine, begging for release from their digital dungeon before the cybernetic process begins anew… squealing dialup feedback and drill bits burrowing into the brain…
“It won’t give up it wants me dead, gawdamn this noise inside my head!”
First as a whisper, then as a distorted scream, and the electric guitar on top layered with the percussion until it sounds like machine gun fire…
I Do Not Want This was another one of those we had to read the inlay card to understand.
But the chorus, we all understood. I mean c’mon, as a teenager, school, study, plan for your career and partake in bizarre social rituals where the rules are never properly explained… I do not want this.
And then the inevitable loud outburst, “don’t you tell me how to feel”, repeat x3, “you don’t know just how I feel.”
You can see why we loved this shit as teenagers right?
As an adult, I still find myself looking at what’s on today’s socio-economic and cultural menu thinking, “I do not want this.”
You may be thinking perhaps it’s time I grew up a bit and suggest I start thinking about the future, at which point I’ll refer you back to Trent’s chorus.
Suffice to say in the 30 years since this track’s come out it’s best not ask whether I’ve done something that matters.
Big Man with a Gun – a lot of people missed the irony of this one at the time and it’s fair to say if it was released today that proportion would invariably be even higher.
It’s a short track (just over a minute and a half) lampooning the so-called “big men” with guns which, these days, tend to have even bigger guns, smaller penises and lots of red baseball hats.
It’s all about the false sense of power and potency one feels while carrying a large firearm.
It’s also fair to say that many American conservatives were especially annoyed by Trent comparing semi-automatic weapons fire to ejaculation – firing guns indiscriminately being an otherwise wholesome American activity.
A Warm Place came out of nowhere, holy shit, it’s ambient!
Of all of the tracks on the album this one surprised me most when I first heard it, as I imagine it did all first-time listeners.
Once again, there’s a Bowie connection, with his 1980 instrumental track Crystal Japan serving as the primary inspiration. A Warm Place doesn’t copy the melody exactly, however, so I’d argue it’s more of a homage than a cover.
A Warm Place is also one of three Nine Inch Nails tracks to feature on the soundtrack to the Oliver Stone movie, Natural Born Killers. (Reznor produced the movie’s soundtrack album and served as its creative director, assembling the various songs and stitching them together with overlapping snippets of movie dialogue – something which had never been done before.)
Thematically, A Warm Place serves as an intermission of sorts, a momentary pause giving the listener the chance to catch their breath.
It’s the one ray of light in the otherwise impenetrable darkness, but this album is called The Downward Spiral for a reason.
So enjoy the respite while you can, as we are about to descend even further into the depths of despair.
A Warm Place bleeds into Eraser, a track which doubles down on the nihilism as we wend our way through the dark tunnels towards our inevitable conclusion.
First, a long brooding intro with a bizarre loop that sounds like humming children on loan from the Overlook Hotel. More feedback and drones, a very 80s sounding synth and a series of disconcerting, detuned guitars. Layers upon layers of distortion, feedback and reverb are just PILED on top, building and building in intensity until…
A complete change of tone.
First quiet – Then LOUD!
Pure fury, power chords of doom and absolute screaming nihilistic ferocity.
Reptile comes next, another personal favourite of mine.
First the sound of industrial machinery clanking away in the background, the track starts quietly before unleashing a horde or Terminators on your ass.
And then there’s the lyrics. Whoever this lady was, she must have really done a number on young Trent.
At last we get to The Downward Spiral, the title track of the album, the culmination of sorts.
It begins with a steady drone that sounds like a swarm of buzzing of flies, images of death and decay instantly forming in our minds.
The introduction to this piece is yet another masterclass in building tension.
First the quiet acoustic guitar, the breathing and the… wait is that a mellotron?
Next the detuned guitar riff, a common motif throughout Trent’s work in general but particularly on the album.
The first time I listened to this album the sudden scream made me jump with fright. Which I guess was Trent’s intention. I’ve since listened to The Downward Spiral thousands of times, so I know the scream is coming but it still gives me a mini jump scare every time.
The lyrics are equally impactful, “A lifetime of fucking things up fixed, In one determined flash.”
As always, the sound design and production on this track deliberately breaks all the rules, screaming in one ear, barely comprehensible whispering in the other.
What’s he saying? …What’s he saying now? Looking at the inlay card again….
It’s a track about suicide, the “Big Man” has picked up his gun and has decided to end it all.
It’s deeply disturbing yet has a certain romanticism to it – which is exactly why this album works so well, it shows us that there is beauty everywhere, even in despair.
The vision fades, the light dims and the life begins to drain away, our character’s story is over, but Trent still has one last ace up his sleeve.
Hurt is probably Trent Reznor’s most famous song.
It’s a song about pain and despair, the final words of a desperate man, though the overall meaning is left ambiguous.
“The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything”
Those lyrics in particular remain the subject of debate. Is this a literal reference to self-harm? Is he literally pricking himself with a needle to see if he still feels pain? Has he become as numb to physical pain as he has to mental anguish? Or is this a reference to a heroin needle? Perhaps both?
That’s the genius of it, how it’s deliberately left ambiguous, a lyrical Rorschach test into which we pour our own pain and insecurities. It’s the perfect end to the album, though the song itself had one final chapter.
In 2002 Johnny Cash recorded his final album, American IV: The Man Comes Around. It included a cover of Hurt, which he then released as a single.
Cash’s version was a notable departure from the original, peeling away thick sonic canopies in favour of a stripped-back acoustic cover comprising guitar, piano and Cash’s own vocal interpretation of the song.
The award-winning music video, meanwhile, served as a career retrospective with Cash, his health dwindling, mourning his wife while also being acutely aware of his own mortality.
This song absolutely floored me when I first head it and it’s fair to say, despite his illustrious, decades-spanning career, Hurt has gone one to become one of Cash’s most iconic songs.
Though not sold on the idea initially, Reznor was apparently moved to tears on seeing the video. He would later remark that the song no longer belonged to him, it was Cash’s forever more.
It’s ironic, in a way, since the track was produced by Rick Rubin. The legendary producer initially admitted to being a NIN sceptic, dismissing his sound as chaotic but was gradually won over by Reznor’s lyrics. (Rubin would go on to befriend Reznor providing a remix of Piggy for the Downward Spiral’s remix album.)
Sonic Dissonance
When I first listened to this album, I basically stood in front of the stereo the entire time, occasionally looking down at the CD’s inlay card to try and better comprehend the lyrics.
When it ended, I found myself standing there in stunned silence gathering my composure.
At which point I played the whole thing again from the start and continued doing so. It was all I listened to for about two weeks.
I’ve not had such an experience before or since.
It was like that final gut punch I experienced having read 1984 as a teenager, mixed with the stunned silence and heightened adrenaline after seeing Mad Max Fury Road in the cinema that first time.
Took me a long time to process it all.
Listening to this on earphones was even more intense, doing so at night in bed in the dark was a genuinely terrifying experience.
I can think of no other album which had that same terrifying effect on me, except maybe Pink Floyd’s Ummagumma (which I think also influenced NIN’s third album, The Fragile, but nobody seems to agree with me on that particular point.)
I once mentioned that Trent Reznor composing a Disney soundtrack was actually the least dystopian thing to happen in 2020. (He later won an Oscar for it along with his collaborator Atticus Ross.)
For me it summed up the whole fucked up year in a nutshell.
From “Le Pig” studios to the studios of The Mouse, it’s been quite a journey.
According to Reznor he was just looking for a specific space to set up a studio and didn’t become aware of the location’s history until after he moved in. That’s when he decided to name the studio “Le Pig”, but later stated he regretted the decision and how it was interpreted by the media.
But that doesn’t sound very rock and roll so journalists tend to ignore that bit.
Whether or not the location where Reznor recorded The Downward Spiral had any real impact on the actual output can’t be measured. But it was a violent exorcism of demons none the less.
As a teenager, mature enough to know wrestling was fake but who still took gangster rappers at their word, I couldn’t make up my mind whether Trent Reznor was a genius or a mentally unhinged psychopath, so I figured he was probably both.
Listening back through adult ears I can appreciate the nuance more while also yearning for an age when music had such brutal honesty, and albums could exert such a wide influence on our culture.
Reznor later stated that it was an album he felt he HAD to make. It didn’t fix all his problems automatically (that took longer) but it likely began the healing process.
Of course it also turned him into an overnight superstar with the album achieving far more mainstream success than could have been ever anticipated.
The following year Nine Inch Nails went on tour supporting David Bowie and also provided remix work for his song The Heart’s Filthy Lesson (which, itself, had a clear NIN influence.)
Another interesting intersection; The Heart’s Filthy Lesson and the NIN track Closer, which both appeared in the movie Seven (Se7en), directed by David Fincher.
Reznor, along with his long-time musical collaborator Atticus Ross, would later go on to score five of Fincher’s movies.
1995 also saw the release of Further Down The Spiral, an album of remixes including contributions from Rick Rubin and Charlie Clouser, plus, as an extra surprise, two previously unreleased tracks from Aphex Twin.
But we would have to wait for five whole years for a proper album release. Our patience was rewarded with the double-disc masterpiece, The Fragile.
An album which, I should mention, turns 25 years old this September, while the first Nine Inch Nails album Pretty Hate Machine will be 35 in October, so stay tuned for both of those. 😉