*Boom Chee Boom Chee Boom CheeBOOMBoomBOOM--*
*--Chee Boom Chee Boom CheeBOOMBoomBOOM--*
[Danny Lohner leans into the frame just far enough so that the audience can see his face. In an unusually grave tone, he addresses the home viewers.]
Danny: Has something like this ever happened to you?
[From somewhere offstage an unbefuckinglievably huge keyboard is launched into the air. It soars majestically through the room, then crashes with an explosion of noise worthy of an Einstürzende Neubauten track into Chris' drumset. As the dust settles, Danny Lohner, Robin Finck and James Woolley enter the frame from stage right. A minute later, they are joined by a slightly scuffed but fundamentally undamaged Chris Vrenna. Together the Boys of NIN turn and face the camera.]
Danny: Hi. My name is Danny Lohner and I'm with nine inch nails, on guitars.
Robin: I'm Robin Finck, and same here.
James: I'm James Woolley, and I was on keyboards with these guys during their '94-'95 tour.
Chris: And I'm -- [pauses, turns his head to the side, spits out a tooth, wipes some blood from his mouth, and turns back to the camera] -- Chris Vrenna, and I do drums.
Robin: Good one, Chris.
Chris: Yeah, well, if you hadn'ta thrown that thing so hard at me --
Robin: Just tryin' to make it look realistic, dude.
Chris [mumbling and picking drumstick splinters off his clothes]: ...made me look bad, man...I'm usually way faster than THAT gettin' out of the way...
Danny [interrupting firmly]: ANYway. The reason we're here today...
Chris: Right. Sorry. [faces camera] Well, basically, we're here to tell everyone who has ever had something happen to them like what you just saw happen to me about this kickass organization we've started.
Robin: See, it occurred to us after Chris here got kicked off his insurance for like the zillionth fucking time that there really isn't any kind of coverage out there for our high-risk type of work.
Chris [muttering]: Most companies just fucking hang up on me when I tell them who I am.
Danny [snorting]: Same here.
James: We've all been there, dude.
Robin: So basically our attitude after that was, fuck those tightass yuppoid bottomfeeding shitforbrains wuss insurance companies. If they don't have the balls to insure us, then we'll set up our OWN insurance company.
Danny: We figured, if Trent can set up his own label, y'know, then how hard can it be?
Chris: So now Trent has Nothing Records, and we have Vrenna, Finck, Lohner and Woolley, Independent Insurers and Underwriters, Inc.
James: Hold it, I thought it was Woolley, Lohner, Vrenna and Finck.
Robin: You're both wrong, we decided on alphabetical order. So that makes it Finck, Lohner, Vrenna and Woolley.
Chris: Oh sure, that works out real convenient for you, don't it?
Danny: Will you fuckheads knock it off already? We're paying for this time out of our own pockets, remember?
[There ensues an amazingly quick transformation of mood.]
Danny: Anyway the purpose of our little company -- name to be defuckingcided later -- is to insure people who otherwise wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting insurance.
Robin: We're talking about band members, we're talking about roadies, we're talking about the dudes and chicks who replace things that've been thrown across the stage and set up equipment that's been kicked over.
Chris: Basically everyone who has ever been in the wrong place at the wrong time and has wound up with a microphone stand up the ass.
James: Our motto is: We're there for you when shit happens.
Chris: And we won't give you crap about your claims, either. No matter how bizarre they are. We know these things happen. We've been there. So if, for example, you get banged up when you get shoved into your drum set and fall off stage --
Danny: Or if someone "accidentally" trips you and pushes your face in the mud right before a show --
Robin: Or if someone beans you in the head with his microphone --
James: Or if someone shoves your face into your keyboards so hard that you get an interval permanently indented into the side of your face --
[At this point, Trent wanders onto the set. He notices the camera and curiously approaches the Boys of NIN from behind, totally unnoticed.]
Danny: Or if you get hit right in the eye with a flying synth key that's just gotten the shit kicked out of it by SOMEone --
Robin: Or if you get in SOMEone's way while he's in the process of MAKING SOMETHING PAY for embarrassing him onstage --
[Trent opens his mouth to say something, then changes his mind about it.]
Chris: Or if you get hurt when you find yourself forced into strange sexual acts with your drum set --
James: Or keyboards --
Robin and Danny [in unison]: Or guitars --
Chris: Or if you get bodyslammed into a roadie --
Danny: Man, you ever get one of those walkie-talkie antennas, you know, right up the --
James: Yeah, once. Hurt like hell.
[As Robin, Chris and Danny shudder in empathy, Trent finally decides to speak.]
Trent: So what's goin' on, guys?
[The Boys of NIN turn in unison and in horror to find Trent standing behind them, his expression (if you can believe it) one of almost angelic innocence.]
Danny: Uh...
Chris: Um, hey Trent.
Trent [peering into camera lens]: You working on some kind of film project or something?
Robin: Uh, yeah, that's it. Right. We're working on an art film.
Danny: Right. Sort of a broken-esque type of thing.
Trent: You know... It's funny you should mention broken... I was just on my way to rework some of that material. You know, toy with some performance ideas. I was hoping you guys could run through some songs with me... Unless you're busy with something else, that is....
Robin: No, no, we're not doing anything.
Danny: Yeah, we're absolutely free. What do you have in mind?
Trent [walking off camera]: I got some new ideas about stuff we can do on stage -- [glances over his shoulder as he leaves the frame] -- during "happiness in slavery."
[Robin, Chris, Danny and James stare after Trent a long moment. Then they share A Look.]
Danny: Oh man oh MAN -- !
Robin [smacking Danny on the back of his head]: You HAD to say broken, y'asshole...
Danny [plaintively]: How was I supposed to know what he had in mind? You can never tell what the fuck he's thinking...
Robin [sighs, then follows after Trent]: Hey Trent, how about we work on some more "hurt" remixes instead?... I got a few ideas about those... Trent? Hey, Trent --
Chris [to James, in obvious resignation]: Same routine as always?
James [following Chris off camera]: Yeah. I bring the bandages, you bring the ice packs.
[Danny watches them all leave, then turns to the camera.]
Danny: Look, uh, I gotta go, but -- Well, just give us a call. 1-800-NIN-BOYS. We'll talk coverage.
Trent [off camera]: Danny, come on, man.
[Danny sighs, lowers his head, then follows offstage.]
-- lara roth