Nine Inch Nails

There comes a point in most suburban teenagers’ lives when they get really, really pissed at their parents. Not that there’s a good reason—it’s just identity, hormones, and, in my case, Nine Inch Nails. A suburban kid himself, Trent Reznor told me through 1994’s The Downward Spiral that self-destruction was enlightenment, personal demons were obligatory, and, of course, cops were pigs. That was 14 years ago and it’s still one of my favorite albums. But now, teenage hormones strike me as being really, really funny. When I listen to Spiral today, I’m more nostalgic than angst-ridden, although I do feel an incredible urge to drop an M-80 in a Sani-Can. In the years since, Reznor has released six albums, staved off addiction and depression, and refocused his anger on the music industry. Radiohead got props for releasing an album and asking fans to pay whatever they wanted. Reznor took it a step further. In May, he released The Slip with no label and no promotion, telling fans to download it free of charge. Take that, Universal! Key Arena, Seattle Center, 628-0888, $35–$55. 8 p.m. JESSE FROEHLING

Sat., July 26, 8 p.m., 2008

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