The Black Table has a great review of the new Nine Inch Nails album which sums up the essential problem with Trent Reznor's music; though well crafted, it's the same old moody dribble as always.
Maybe that's not Reznor's fault. When you're in your twenties and feeling alienated from everybody and everything, NIN is a fine anthem for your angst. But once you've hit your thirties, not only does it feel like Trent's spinning his wheels but it isn't even relevant to you anymore. Or if it is, you've got bigger problems than what kind of music you dig. And Trent clearly needs to cheer his ass up, pronto.
But I could be wrong; I burned the album for a young friend of mine, and she declared it top-notch.
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