Amazing Arena Rock

One of my favorite things about the Whatever is that he's down for anything. Unless the phrase "outlet shopping" comes out of my mouth, he's ready to go. Last night, I strongarmed him into going to see Nine Inch Nails with me.
Unlike Beth over at Grand Mental Station, I am not a die-hard Nine Inch Nails fan. I've always enjoyed them, especially in my "the world is bullshit" phase in high school. I mean, the world is still kind of bullshit, but I'm not nearly as tortured about it as I was circa 1995-99. So I'd borrow my friend's copy of The Downward Spiral (I couldn't buy it because my Mom wouldn't let me buy anything with the "explicit lyrics" sticker on it). I bought Pretty Hate Machine (no sticker). Most of my friends in high school were really into them, so it kind of sunk in. And, of course, Trent Reznor is smokin' hot.

(See?)
I managed to get cheap seats, so I decided it would be worth it to go. I wouldn't have paid top-dollar, but I figured I'd always have the story of seeing them. We got there late since the Whatever did his civic duty and voted, and met up with my friends A and Will at the door. We made our way to the premium seats (whoop!) as Queens of the Stone Age were on. I feared we'd have the same problem with the sound as I had the week before at the Gwen/Black Eyed Peas show. Something about the acoustics or sound levels at the TD Banknorth Garden Center or whatever it's called is way off, so it's difficult to understand what's being sung. The bass is loud, but hell if I know what they're saying. The crowd seemed only mildly interested with the opener, and I feared I was in for a boring show.
Then Nine Inch Nails came on.

Holy. Crap. Awesome. Seriously. There's that buzz you get after seeing a really good show, where the artist doesn't have any pretense and just goes absolutely insane for two hours, and that's what Trent et al did. As soon as they took the stage behind the mostquito netting curtain and played the first song in shadows, the audience was into it. The lighting was great. Unlike Gwen, the show wasn't in the clothes and choreography. The show was in the music and the performance. Gwen was aloof, more a pretty porcelain pop doll on a scaffold. Nine Inch Nails was the kid who knocked Gwen and her pop people down and stomped on them until they were powder in the rug. And, had there been any non-metaphoric breakables on stage, they would have been lost. Trent and the guitarist writhed and kicked on the stage. The crowd went nuts. Trent hated the seats on the floor. The Whatever rocked out to "The Hand That Feeds." And I could actually understand what Trent was singing.
It was awesome. I'd like to be more eloquent, but that's it. You can read the Herald's review, but it doesn't really tell you anything either.