Nine Inch Nails

“Nothing can stop me now” is one of the most famous lines from one of the most celebrated songs (“Piggy”) by Trent Michael Reznor's brainchild, the Nine Inch Nails. And indeed, nothing seems able to stop this 48-year-old from Pennsylvania, who for about a month now has resumed touring the globe with his live performances, after a four-year hiatus.

This time it was Milan's turn, at the Forum di Assago. A peculiar venue choice, for two reasons: first, because in this initial leg of the tour promoting the new record “Hesitation Marks”, out September 3rd, NIN have played almost exclusively at summer festivals (save for one club performance in London); second, because of the decision to play indoors on August 28th.

Whatever the reason behind the choice, Reznor must have weighed it carefully, because over the course of nearly two hours of concert, opened by Tomahawk featuring Mike Patton, the man once known as Mr. Self Destruct ran through his now vast repertoire with flawless precision. What makes Nine Inch Nails unique and inimitable, in this writer's view, is their ability to range effortlessly across multiple musical fronts. Their discography bears witness to this, with virtually no two albums alike. And the Milan show once again proved the versatility and eclecticism of a band too often unfairly boxed into the “industrial” label.

After a whirlwind electronic opening with all five band members lined up onstage Kraftwerk-style, tinkering away at consoles, keyboards and drum machines, the show swiftly shifted into a more classic live performance built around drums, bass and guitar up front, before alternating back and forth, phase by phase, into darker electronics, ballads and ambient passages.

An electronic start, as we said, with the now-classic (for this run of summer shows) solo entrance of Reznor, whose outfit – a worn green tank top, black shorts and chiseled biceps – makes him look like a construction worker who wandered onto the stage almost by chance. A couple of twists of the knobs at the console and a lightning-fast launch into the new “Copy Of A”, with the rest of the band (all as superlative as their mentor) walking onstage one at a time, a few seconds apart.

The arena lights remain, surprisingly, fully on, along with a blinding spotlight positioned next to the frontman. A mistake, perhaps? Not a chance. It's simply there to heighten the effect of the sudden plunge into darkness halfway through the song, when the real stage design takes over: dazzlingly colorful lights coming from every direction of the stage, and five mobile panels, constantly repositioned throughout the show and never lit the same way twice.

After a fine rendition of “Sanctified”, with a bassline that hits you right in the gut, and the single “Came Back Haunted” (devastatingly effective, and even catchier live than in the studio), the scenery shifts in the blink of an eye. Out go the drum machines and keyboards. The pummeling begins in earnest.

For seven songs in a row, there's not a moment to catch your breath. Well, almost – there's the gorgeous piano interlude of “The Frail” offering a brief respite. It kicks off with “1,000,000” and closes with “Gave Up”. In between, sandwiched between the wall of sound of “March Of The Pigs” and the swinging, cacophonous madness of “Piggy” (complete with a half-dive into the crowd by Reznor), there's even room for Bowie's “I'm Afraid Of Americans”, one of the idols of the night's muscular ringmaster.

Special mention goes to “Closer”, with the light panels closing in to trap Reznor inside a cage, projecting his distorted image in red while everyone wonders where he's actually gone. Then, as if by magic, the panels part to reveal the man from Mercer hard at work in front of a camera. Genius.

After the “seven-song run” (probably the best stretch of the concert), the set continues shifting gears almost song by song. There's room for the abrasive electronics of “Me, I'm Not”, the minimal calm of “Find My Way” (another track from the new album), the ambient serenity of “What If We Could?” (from the soundtrack to “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo”), the “bad luck fist fuck” of “Wish”, and the synth-pop of “Only”.

The finale, after the thoroughly enjoyable “The Hand That Feeds”, is entrusted to one of the Nails' very first hits, “Head Like A Hole”, which sends the whole arena jumping on the line “I rather die than give you control”.

There's only one encore, but it alone would be worth the price of admission. We're talking, of course, about “Hurt”, a song you could listen to a hundred times in a row and it would still feel like the first, such is the sick, wrenching beauty of it. Reznor chooses to sing it without the piano this time, accompanied instead by faithful Robin Finck's guitar, before the final noise explosion.

Thunderous applause, and long live Mr. Reznor. May nothing ever stop him, please.

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