Nine Inch Nails (guest: The Dresden Dolls)

The Astoria looks like a crumbling old farmhouse dropped in the middle of the well-to-do buildings housing department stores and murderous fast-food joints: what jumps out is the prevailing dark tone, the red brick and the lingering smog of the City, all perfectly in tune with the clouds hanging over London, as usual, just the way we like it.

Standing in front of this legendary London venue makes me feel like I'm back in high school, on a class trip, trying to get into all sorts of trouble, making the moment unforgettable; a kind of heady feeling that comes from the growing awareness of having bitten off more than you can chew, of having dared, of having acted with a certain recklessness.

The crowd outside the Astoria starts to swell, so around 5pm my trusty travel companion Luca (whom I thank, since it's thanks to him that I'm here) and I decide to join the queue; the difference in dress between us and Reznor's disciples immediately stands out — true vessels of dark-gothic commandments and practices: some start looking at us, not exactly with disdain, but with curiosity, as if we were animals at the zoo.

A point against us: the tone of voice with which the average Italian carries on an average conversation — much louder than that of the French or the English... in short, we draw attention, Italians-pizza-mandolin-mamma and all that, but no big deal...

The queue starts moving, we're almost inside when a couple of goths start throwing flour on the crowd: we dodge it (thankfully!) and we're in.

Inside the London Astoria and, forgive the terrible pun, inside history too; because pretty much every band worth mentioning has trodden the boards of this wonderful underground venue.

Security is pretty strict, and it quickly kills any dream of snapping a few photos of the band and the venue - a shame!

We climb a flight of stairs and the first thing we feel is disorientation: this place is a maze, full of bar counters (among which it's worth mentioning the Keith Moon bar) and staircases leading who knows where... All we need is to find the way up to the next floor; we go through the last door and the whole venue opens up in front of us. In front of the stage there's an intimate, not overly large space (I reckon it can hold 1000-1500 people at most), bare and stripped-down, with the mixing desk placed in the middle, fenced off by a grille that looks very post-industrial. The upper level, where we are, is laid out like an amphitheatre, with another bar at the top end; then, as you go down, there are various sets of steps with little tables and railings separating one staircase from the next.

The idea of watching the gig comfortably seated while sipping a Guinness gets the excitement going quite a bit, especially since the night promises to be a scorcher: the British weekly Kerrang!, the bible of Metal and all things related, has built up considerable hype around these two exclusive London dates by Nine Inch Nails, even interviewing frontman Trent Reznor in a special issue released on the very day of the show, in which the band's mysterious guru announced Nine Inch Nails' intention to get on stage and, quite literally, "kick some ass".

So there we are, comfortably sunk into soft armchairs, enjoying our stout and a truly outstanding pre-show DJ set featuring My Bloody Valentine, Pere Ubu, Pil, Lcd Soundsystem, Rapture, Jesus And Mary Chain, Joy Division and other wonders.

The venue is really starting to fill up when The Dresden Dolls take the stage; I had more than a few doubts about them, but I'm happily proven wrong by a performance that wins over both Reznor's notoriously demanding fans and yours truly, marked by thunderous drumming and highly dynamic, epic piano parts, a female voice brimming with pathos, and songs that prove as tedious on record as they are excellent live. Well done!

A few minutes pass and the lights go down: it's pandemonium. A sample of noise and clattering explosions kicks in, the silhouettes of the band members become visible... we wait a few more seconds, endless ones, and finally he steps onto the stage, Trent Reznor: a roar greets him, and he responds in kind, kicking off a night of dancing, wilder and more chaotic than ever.

It kicks off straight away with two new songs, "Love Is Not Enough" and "You Know Who You Are", and the feeling is that Nine Inch Nails are particularly fired up: Reznor shakes his head with his eyes closed to keep up with the driving rhythm of the songs, the guitarist thrashes about and manhandles his instrument, Jeordie White (aka Twiggy Ramirez, ex-Marilyn Manson and A Perfect Circle) stays still, focused on the groove, the very Italian keyboardist splits his time between synths and samples, and the drummer holds the songs together with powerful, martial drumming.

These are new songs, but the crowd responds beyond even the rosiest expectations.

After this superb start, it's time for a real crowd-pleaser, "March Of The Pigs", from "The Downward Spiral": if anything, the mayhem below the stage whips up an even more powerful and uncontrollable vortex.

Up on the upper level things are, while calmer and more static, still red hot: there isn't a single free inch, everyone is crammed up against the railings, keeping time with their heads, feet, hands and voices. At one point I turn around and realize I've got Scotland's post-rock royalty, Mogwai, standing right next to me: I feel genuinely stunned watching their absorbed faces and their heads bobbing along... I never would have suspected their presence in this den of industrial depravity, where even an indie snob like myself doesn't feel entirely safe.

After half-collapsing from this close encounter, I pull myself together to the sound of another new track, "The Line Begins To Blur", which is also very good.

Nine Inch Nails keep relentlessly pounding our willing eardrums, proving themselves to be a truly impressive band - tight, precise, compelling, original: the sheer perfection of this show is astonishing, especially given the preview nature of this exclusive gig.

Reznor, in particular, is a frontman who fears no comparison within the mainstream rock scene (and beyond); 100% convinced of his own abilities, just reckless enough, and perfect as the catalyst for an overwhelming energy, the result of a fusion of music and body, of noise and muscle and taut nerves.

Nine Inch Nails draw heavily from the then-upcoming "With Teeth" (due out in May), without forgetting "The Downward Spiral" and "Pretty Hate Machine", but hugely neglecting that masterpiece "The Fragile", from which the only tracks revived are "Even Deeper" and "Starfuckers, Inc.", which, truth be told, suffers live from the lack of its electro details, coming across as slightly static.

No great loss, though, since the show never dips in tension or quality of any kind.

The lights go down and it's time for "Hurt", perhaps the finest song of Reznor's entire career, delivered with moving intensity: the crowd initially sings along at the top of its lungs, but then the voices seem to fade so Trent can pour out all his emotions, letting himself be overwhelmed by what he himself once wrote. After the opening of solo piano and voice, the band comes in and carries its leader through to the end of this wonderful song.

It closes with "Head Like A Hole", no encore, after an hour and twenty minutes of concert.

Ears are ringing and limbs struggle to find rest; inside, the awareness of having witnessed something truly extraordinary.

Nine Inch Nails, far from being a spent force, prove they still have plenty to say on the world rock stage: we're eagerly awaiting the new album, hoping its atmospheres won't stray too far from what was on display during the live show.

(Heartfelt thanks to Luca Bellini, without whom none of this would have been possible)

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