“It’s My Birthday, Bitches.”
Mr. Michael Trent Reznor, born May 17th, 1965, is forty-four years old today. I used to be such a rabid devotee of Reznor’s back in the Downward Spiral days. These days, not so much. Still, I’m very thankful to Trent for reminding me during a period where I was going through what you might call a “Dark Night of the Soul” that there were people around who were considerably more miserable than me! Happy Birthday, Trent!
This all too brief snippet of Nine Inch Nails (circa 1991 is my guess) performing “Down In It” on cheesy TV dance show Dance Party USA is just so priceless. I just wish it were a clip of the entire song!
Still functioning Gristleizer Unit from 1977 (Image Source)
If you want to do your homework on which band or artist actually invented what we now euphemistically refer to as “Industrial” music, you’re going to have to dig past Trent Reznor and Skinny Puppy to get to the true pioneers of the genre, the ‘70s British quartet Throbbing Gristle.
Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails Does His Best Henry Rollins Impersonation (Image Source)
Since the World’s Saddest, Most Misunderstood Boy hasn’t — as far as I know anyway — ended it all just yet, let us congratulate him on turning forty-two years old today!
Bachelor Number Nine
Has anyone out there noticed that Lorenzo Borghese, star of the 9th season of the semi-retarded reality freak show The Bachelor bears an amazing resemblance to the professionally morose Industrial music genius Trent Reznor? I sure did.
Trent “Nobody Loves Me” Reznor
Of course, this line of thinking gets me to hypothesizing about how fun and utterly twisted it would be if ABC recruited Trent to be the next Bachelor contestant. Can you just imagine Trent looking for his potential life mate among 25 assorted Type O Negative fans and would-be-Myspace-Porn-Stars diluted with a few blonde-and-brainless-cheerleader types? How much would that rule?
Again, it reminds me of this silly article I wrote for the print version of Ink19 about ten years ago (back when I was a confused, horny fan who hadn’t yet figured out what an utter fraud Trent is) called Dream Date With Trent Reznor. Good times. I wish that piece was archived somewhere because it would be good to haul it out for a few belly laughs. But hopping back on my original train of thought, maybe if Trent could find true love and get laid on a regular basis, he could write some songs that didn’t go on and on about how depressed he is and how much it sucks to be a millionaire rock star who’s probably turned more sex than I’ve had. Yawn City.