Trent Reznor rode into pop music mythology on "Pretty Hate Machine," powered by Futurist industrial pistons and covered in ice-spiked synth hooks shined by new wave robots. Then there was his voice. Whispered verses and screamed hooks - before Kurt Cobain patented the formula - suggested things teens weren't supposed to be thinking, but were. Reznor's brooding prince in PVC persona became the mall goth archetype that still pervades America, over a decade on. Daphne Carr interviews dozens of NIN fans, and gets to the heart of Reznor's very personal appeal.
Trent Reznor rode into pop music mythology on "Pretty Hate Machine," powered by Futurist industrial pistons and covered in ice-spiked synth hooks shined by new wave robots. Then there was his voice. Whispered verses and screamed hooks - before Kurt Cobain patented the formula - suggested things teens weren't supposed to be thinking, but were. Reznor's brooding prince in PVC persona became the mall goth archetype that still pervades America, over a decade on. Daphne Carr interviews dozens of NIN fans, and gets to the heart of Reznor's very personal appeal.