Sound Check — Geoff Carter: Mopey Trent Reznor suffuses new Nine Inch Nails disc

Friday, Sept. 24, 1999 | 9:42 a.m.

Geoff Carter's music column appears Fridays. Reach him at carter@ vegas.com

Yes indeed, I think it's safe to say that I miss the "Grunge" era. In particular, I liked the clothes native to that era -- the flannel shirts, the "Mud Honey" T-shirts, the second-hand combat boots scuffed to a matte finish.

I much enjoyed the "mosh pits," the "micro brew," the great "Lollapaloozas" and those repeat trips to Seattle. And there was music everywhere -- the popular song stylings of "Pearl Jam," "Alice in the Chains" and "Count Cobain."

Having painted myself as a complete and utter moron through that episode of comic ignorance, I'll tell you why I did it. To put it succinctly: New releases by former Soundgarden member Chris Cornell and Nine Inch Nails found their way into my review stack this week. And it occurred to me that -- despite the prime of these artists' creative lives being but five short years ago -- you might have no idea under God why they're still relevant.

We'll start with the name you know. Nine Inch Nails continues to be Trent Reznor, a roomful of electronics and whomever he hasn't killed with his swinging mike stand. (Guitarist Robin Finck took a wicked knock to the head once, but did not die.) A lot of people -- Goth kids, mostly -- have anticipated "The Fragile" with baited breath, and at first blush Reznor has given them ample cause for a strong exhale: two discs, filled to capacity with angry, buzzing industrial rock. The thread of the band's 1994 release, "The Downward Spiral," is continued and practically knitted into a quilt.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I have changed considerably in five years; the 27-year-old hellion who worked the pit at NIN's two consecutive Huntridge shows in 1994 is much different than the sleepy, overly cautious 32-year-old dope who's slumped in front of the computer today. People evolve. Maybe I'd hoped that in the five intervening years -- after his collaborations with David Bowie and brilliant work on the "Lost Highway" soundtrack -- Trent Reznor had mellowed a bit.

No such luck. "Taste the wealth of hate in me," snarls Reznor in "Somewhat Damaged," and I have to wonder: How deep is that hate these days? Reznor's debut, "Pretty Hate Machine," was a twentysomething angst manifesto, just the sort of thing one would expect from an frustrated kid from Ohio; his follow-up (and best record), the EP "Broken," was a head-banging masterwork of self-loathing. By the time "The Downward Spiral" came around, Reznor seemed to be having a bit of fun. There was even a funky get-down number or two: "Closer" slid into the clubs like a temptress in hip boots. And his single from the aforementioned "Lost Highway" soundtrack, "The Perfect Drug," is a sly, sexy love song. There are no such comforts to be had in "The Fragile" -- even the lovesick protagonist of "The Great Below" kills himself. Party down.

Mind you, there's nothing wrong with mope rock. It's good music for rainy days and Mondays, to paraphrase the still-reprehensible Carpenters. But Reznor's moping is pure artifice; he's a multimillionaire who's had five years to live down his success, to get a sense of humor about it. What we're getting with "The Fragile" isn't Trent Reznor -- it is a humorless parody of him. The two-disc set's one shot at greatness, the cheerfully snide "Starf-----s Inc," tries to shine some much-needed light on the subject, but the superior version of the song is on the CD single for "The Day The World Went Away." That version ends with a five-second sample from a live KISS number: "Thank you! GOODNIGHT!" The humor is there, inside Reznor's pouting noggin: His audience must be the ones to kick it out, since Reznor seems reluctant to do it himself.

Chris Cornell, on the other hand, had a few things to cry about. Two of his friends, Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley, died stupid and avoidable deaths, and his band, Soundgarden, fizzled out on the very brink of worldwide success. Yet in spite of these setbacks, "Euphoria Morning" lives up to its name. It isn't exactly an "Up With People" kind of happening -- the protagonists of Cornell's songs have seen better days, particularly in the Buckley tribute "Wave Goodbye" -- but there is a palpable light shining through every song. The light has shape, and a pleasing shape it is.

Those expecting the bombast of a Soundgarden record might be initially put off by "Euphoria's" light touch. It is a rock record, make no mistake -- but it's closer in spirit to Led Zeppelin's "Physical Graffiti" than Black Sabbath's "Paranoid." Following the path so recently trod by Buckley, Cornell places his hard rock chops in subservience to his songwriting; put simply, he only pushes the amplifiers up when needs drive.

Case in point: The introverted verses of "Follow My Way" ("I'm a wreck when I look mighty") flow into a big-rock chorus ("Follow my way/when I'm not leading anyone"), in which the dominant instrument is Cornell's soaring vocal, as opposed to multitracked guitars. "When I'm Down" gets its message over with a gospel (!!!) flourish. The opening of "Can't Change Me" recalls "Paint It Black" in the best possible way.

The instrumentation is lush, symphonic; everyone from Eleven's Natasha Shneider to Ministry's Bill Rieflin step in to lend texture to Cornell's distinctive guitar, playing everything from mandolin to theremin. It's a gorgeous record, revealing and heartfelt. Cornell may have had some rough times, but "Euphoria Morning" puts them where they belong -- in the past. Here's to his resurrection.

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