You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Trent Reznor’ tag.
Fact #1: Nine Inch Nails is one of my favorite bands ever.
Fact #2: I have some man-love issues for Trent Reznor that I’m totally at peace with.
Fact #3: Nine Inch Nails is currently on their last tour ever (at least until they have a reunion tour in ten years).
Fact #4: The last ten concert dates have been announced, including four final shows in Los Angeles at small(ish) venues.
Fact #5: I will be attending at least ONE of these shows. Preferably the final show on September 6th at the Echoplex.
Fact #6: I will be both happy and sad.
Here are the last ten NIN tour dates ever (but probably not):
8/22/09 NY, NY Bowery Ballroom
8/23/09 NY, NY Webster Hall
8/25/09 NY, NY Terminal 5
8/26/09 NY, NY Terminal 5
8/28/09 Chicago, IL Aragon Ballroom
8/29/09 Chicago, IL Aragon Ballroom
9/2/09 Los Angeles, CA Hollywood Palladium
9/3/09 Los Angeles, CA Henry Fonda Theatre
9/5/09 Los Angeles, CA The Wiltern
9/6/09 Los Angeles, CA Echoplex
I’d tell you how to purchase tickets but you might get ’em before I do,
Man… I honestly don’t even know where to begin.
What transpired last night may be old-hat to regular Hollywood types, but it was a bizarre whirlwind for a bald Hungarian from Milwaukee.
So, yeah… let me start from the beginning.
Jorge came over early in the day and wanted to take a quick nap before leaving. I worked on some stuff while he slept, and around 6PM we finally left for Grauman’s.
Now, keep in mind that this is rush hour in Los Angeles, and we’re going to a blocked-off road that is literally packed with hundreds of screaming people. We were supposed to pick up our tickets before 6:45PM, and the doors were supposed to be closed at 7PM.
Luckily, these times are more suggested than they are set in stone. Of course, we didn’t know that and therefore found ourselves running from the parking garage to the red carpet.
Numerous fans approached Jorge during this sprint, asking for pictures and autographs.
Fan: “Mr. Garcia, can I get in a photo with you?”
Jorge: “Sure, as long as you can do it while we’re moving.”
So, needless to say, there are a few photos out there from last night that (if you didn’t know the story) appear as if fans are taking part in a marathon with Hurley from “Lost.”
We finally got to Grauman’s and were ushered into the press area. It was… how can I put this? Insane.
There were people everywhere: in the stands above us, across the street holding up photos of Hurley for Jorge to sign, yelling at us from every direction. There were a brillion cameras, a frillion video cameras and a zrillion screaming human beings.
It was at this point that I started to look around and realize that pretty much everyone around us was a celebrity.
“Oh, there’s Napoleon Dynamite,” I remember thinking. “And Simon Pegg. And Tori Spelling. And Hank Azaria.”
It was weird. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a starstruck moment, unlike the TRS. But it was something that I can only describe as being bizarre.
There were people everywhere. It was madness.
Here’s Jorge looking at fans across the street who were yelling his name:
And here are the photographers:
Seth Green was in line in front of us:
As was Jon Heder and a guy I’m assuming is either his clone or his brother:
Here are a few more pics of the craziness that was happening in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard:
Eventually, Jorge made his way onto the carpet with J.J. Abrams and his wife Katie. Here’s a picture of them, followed by a short video of them making their way off the carpet:
After the photo area we were shuffled to a section where Jorge took a few quick questions from television and radio reporters:
As he did that, I walked around and shot a few more pics. Here’s senior citizen Spock (Leonard Nimoy):
Followed by young whipper-snapper Spock (Zachary Quinto):
Finally, we made our way inside walking under the “Star Trek” spike:
And this, my friends, is where the evening got really weird.
First, Grauman’s Theatre is just an amazingly beautiful place to see a movie. It’s small like old-school independent theaters, but has a large screen and a great sound system. It’s kind of like a Model T that’s been souped-up with hydraulics and a sweet stereo system: an up-to-date classic, if that makes any sense.
The interior of the space is just as impressive, featuring a gorgeous ceiling. It was dark in there, but I managed to take a quick shot of it here:
We were taken to our seats. Two rows up from us: Simon Pegg. To the right of us: Matthew Fox. Directly across the aisle from us: Jonathan Frakes who played Captain Riker on “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” (Thanks, Jocco!)
And sitting directly behind us… Samuel L. Jackson. And he was looking directly back at me.
Almost like a fart that accidentally slips out during the quietest part of a play:
Me: “Oh! Hello.”
Jorge turns around to see who I’m saying hello to and has about the same exact reaction.
Jorge: “Oh, wow! Hi there.”
Samuel L. Jackson: “Turn the fuck around and shut the fuck up, motherfucker!”
Actually, that’s just what I wish he had said because it would have made for a better story. What he actually said was:
Samuel L. Jackson: “Hello.”
I turned around and noticed he was there with a younger girl. I assumed it was his daughter, which was verified when Jorge shook his hand and said:
Jorge: “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m Jorge. I’m on a show called ‘Lost.'”
Samuel L. Jackson: “Yeah, that’s what my daughter just told me. Nice to meet you.”
My turn now, putting my hand out:
Me: “I’m Justin. I’m no one. I’m just here with him.”
Samuel L. Jackson: “And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger!”
Yeah. I wish. Instead:
Samuel L. Jackson: “Nice to meet you.”
So yeah, I geeked out a little bit. In my defense, so did Jorge. At one point he leaned over to me and whispered:
Jorge: “I feel like we should offer to switch seats with them.”
By the end of the night, we agreed that meeting Jackson was the high-point of the evening. We also agreed that it was kind of intimidating spending two hours sitting in a dark room with him directly behind us.
The best Samuel L. Jackson Moment (SLJM) came just as they lowered the lights. The movie was supposed to start at 7PM and they kept flashing the house lights to try and get people to take their seats. Unfortunately, this was having no effect on people.
Every time they’d flash the lights it would appear as if they were about to start the movie, at which point Jackson would say something like, “About time,” or, “Let’s start this.” Finally, after the third or fourth time, he began to get frustrated.
So when they finally lowered the lights at 8PM (an hour late) and everyone quietly scattered to their respective seats, Jackson could be heard loudly over everyone else’s whispering, saying:
Samuel L. Jackson: “Well, it’s a good thing this movie didn’t start at 7 o’clock like it was supposed to because these motherfuckers would’ve missed it!”
As long as I live, that phrase will be forever stamped into my brain. Sweet Jesus.
“Pulp Fiction” is in my top five films of all-time, and Jackson is probably the coolest person I could have met from that movie. (Sorry, Travolta.) So I show no shame in admitting that it was very cool to be able to shake that man’s hand.
J.J. Abrams got up and introduced the cast from the movie and they all stood up to accept their applause: Chris Pines, Zachary Quinto, John Cho, Eric Bana, Winona Ryder, et al.
A few of the original “Trek” guys were there, too, including Spock, Chekov and Sulu.
While Abrams was introducing everyone I gave a quick glance around the crowd and noticed that Doogie himself was sitting in the row behind us a few chairs down: Neil Patrick Harris.
When I was a kid, especially in high school, people used to call me “Doogie Howser” because they thought I looked like him, and maybe back then I did. Now, not so much. The years have been kind to Doog and not so kind to Shady.
Finally, after hours of anticipation, the movie began.
Now, let me preface this by saying that I don’t really like “Star Trek.” I know a little bit about it that I’ve learned kind of by proxy from being friends with my old college roommate, Jocco. But science fiction is, quite honestly, a genre I’ve never really enjoyed.
But since I was sitting in a room with everyone affiliated with the movie I decided that I wanted to watch it completely unbiased.
And I can say without shame or an ounce of sarcasm that “Star Trek” is a great fucking movie.
What’s great about it is that you don’t have to be a “Star Trek” fan to enjoy it. In fact, Abrams talked a little bit at the beginning about how he was never really a fan growing up. The same goes for a lot of the actors and other people associated with the film. This isn’t a “Star Trek” movie made by fans; it’s a “Star Trek” movie made by people who were just trying to make a good movie.
So, very much in the same way that “The Dark Knight” works on many levels for both Batman fans and non-fans alike, this movie is just a solid story from beginning to end. It has great character structure, an interesting story and (of course) great sound and visuals.
It was so good, in fact, that Jorge and I agreed that we’d both go again after it opens next Friday, this time taking my girlfriend Kathy along. That means that I will have to pay to see it which, if you know me, rarely happens.
After the movie we made our way to the after-party which took place in some warehouse/parking lot just off of Highland.
The party was a free fest. They had free everything! Free food! Free booze! Free Slushies! They even handed out free “Star Trek” drinking glasses which I think were sponsored by Burger King. Why do I think that? Because this huge Klingon King was walking around the party:
We saw a few people at the party we hadn’t seen at the movie theater including Chuck (Zachary Levi), McLovin (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) and Malcolm in the Middle (Frankie Muniz).
Jorge ran into Robert Weide who had directed him in an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” Weide said I should go over and have a conversation with Greg Mottola (director of “Superbad”) because it would be like having a conversation with a mirror.
This brings up a good point: There was a fair share of bald men with dark-rimmed glasses there last night, including “Lost” writer/”Star Trek” producer Damon Lindelof. On our way to the theater I joked with Jorge that if anyone came up to me wanting an interview with Damon, I was just going to go ahead and do it.
Of course, I didn’t really think that would happen. I mean, what are the odds, right?
Well, apparently the odds are pretty good, because throughout the course of the evening I was approached three times about how much someone loved my work on “Lost.”
“I just love your show,” they’d say as they tapped me on the shoulder.
“Oh. I’m not him. But he’s here somewhere.”
Bald white men with glasses are the new Asians: We all look alike. I’d like to go to lunch with Mottola and Lindelof and really freak some people out.
Before we left for the premiere I had told myself that I wasn’t going to ask people for photos, mostly because I’ve seen firsthand how Jorge sometimes gets bombarded.
But on our way to the after-party I found myself regretting not asking Samuel L. Jackson for a photo, so I told myself that if someone cool was at the after-party and it felt alright, I’d ask maybe just one person for a quick pic.
And here is my one:
Somewhat because of “Heathers” but mostly because of “True Romance.” I love that fucking movie. Christian had talked to Jorge earlier in the evening and he seemed really cool and down-to-earth so I figured, eh, what the hell.
And that was pretty much it. We went to another party at Crown Bar for about four minutes (and was given a nice shot of Patron), but quickly left when we realized we couldn’t even hear ourselves speak.
We made a quick late-night stop at Benito’s for some 2AM tacos and made our way back home.
Before I wrap this up, I want to leave you guys with two images. They had one of those photo booths at the party where you dress up in goofy outfits and get your photo taken. I like to think of these next two photos as our prom shot, something to print out and keep in a frame for decades so we can constantly be humiliated by them.
Enjoy!
Thanks for the night, Jorge! I had a great time and really appreciate it.
Live dong and prostate,
PS: Before leaving yesterday, I had a theory that Trent Reznor was going to be at the premiere. I thought that might be the case because he had made a few joking comments on his Twitter page that he might have to cancel the May 8th tour date for Nails because it was the opening night of “Star Trek.” Then he followed up with something like, “Got it figured out.” So yeah, I kept an eye open for him last night but didn’t see him anywhere. Then, this morning, Kathy found this online.
Motherfucker. I knew it!
I don’t know if it was my Shepard Fairey post, my Josh Holloway post, or my Trent Reznor post (or the power of those three posts combined), but “The Blarg” kicked ass yesterday welcoming exactly 270 unique visitors to the site!
This shattered the previous one-day high of 180 unique visitors, which happened on Inauguration Day, probably due to my post about Bush’s last day.
So thanks for visiting, and thanks even more for helping spread the word! I appreciate it!
Best,
…right here.
And I promise this site isn’t becoming a Nine Inch Nails fan club. It just so happened that Reznor did something brilliant… RIGHT AFTER MEETING ME!
Pussygrinding Sheryl Crow,
When I was younger, there were three people I gladly would’ve drowned a baby to be able to meet.
Those three people were (in order of “most awesome” to “third-most awesome”): Jim Henson, Paul Reubens and Hulk Hogan.
Yeah, go ahead and laugh. What do I care? Fact is, those three guys influenced my childhood more than anyone else (outside of my family, of course).
As I got older that list changed, mostly because Jim Henson died in 1990. (Of course, I met his son Brian and got to interview Frank Oz back in the day, both of which are pretty awesome consolation prizes.)
For awhile my list had two people on it, but over time Jim Henson would be replaced by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. I know, that’s a weird replacement, but I’ve been listening to Reznor for more than half my life now and have followed his career at every turn. As I’ve said before, I’m an insanely proud Nine Inch Nerd.
Still, I don’t think I even realized how huge of a dork I was for Reznor until just this past weekend.
Every Sunday night we cook a big dinner at our place for all of our friends, but this past Sunday we decided to cancel it and instead head out to two events.
The first was the monthly Channel 101 get-together, hosted by “Monster House” scribes Rob Schrab and Dan Harmon. They screened eleven five-minute video shorts, and then each person voted for their top five favorites. Some of them were hilarious; others weren’t.
But it was still an awesome start to a great night. I had an amazing Hawaiian burger and two Stellas in my gut by the time we left, so life was most definitely good.
The last video rolled, we voted, and then headed out the door to our second and final stop of the evening: a Mexican restaurant on Sunset Boulevard called Malo. We had eaten there before a few months earlier on a Monday when they offer up $1 tacos! Awesome.
But our reason for visiting that night wasn’t cheap Mexican food. Every Sunday night, Malo features a trivia night that is hosted by Har Mar Superstar (also known as Sean Tillman).
If you’re not familiar with Har Mar, here’s a video for his song “D.U.I.”:
So, as you can probably tell, the night was already shaping up to be an interesting one.
We got to Malo a little early and headed upstairs to the lounge. To my surprise, the room was already crowded with people. I tried to enter but a woman walked in front of me and said, “This is a private party.”
Fair enough.
I headed back downstairs to the bar, but just before I did I saw a guy out of the corner of my eye. I thought to myself, “That guy looks like he could be in Nine Inch Nails.”
Let me be clear, I didn’t think he actually was in Nine Inch Nails, but he was dressed in such a way that being a member of Nails wouldn’t have been a stretch.
I got down to the bar just as Har Mar was walking in; I walked up to him.
Justin: “Man, I’m glad you’re here. I thought we were in the wrong place for a minute.”
Har Mar: “No, you’re in the right spot. They’re just wrapping up a private party up there. They’re having a birthday party for someone from Nine Inch Nails.”
Justin: “Oh, cool.”
Justin’s Brain: “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY? FOR WHO? FOR WHAT?”
Har Mar: “Yeah, they’re cool guys. Trent is even up there.”
Justin: “Wow.”
Justin’s Brain: “ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME, HAR MAR? BECAUSE IF YOU ARE, YOU’RE IN FOR A WORLD OF SUFFERING!”
And then it happened: The scene in a movie where the person’s brain finally catches up with his or her surroundings. Like, “Didn’t you know? This is a gay bar.” And then he looks around and sees guys making out with guys, girls making out with girls, etc. It was that exact scene, but instead of gay guys and lesbians I looked around and saw Nine Inch Nails.
Christ, there was Robin Finck just standing there staring back at me. Holy balls.
Har Mar ran upstairs and I grabbed my girlfriend’s arms violently.
Justin: “Did you hear what he said?!?”
She was excited for me, much like parents get excited for their kids when they see Santa at the mall. It’s not a big deal to them, but they’re happy you’re so retarded over it.
Trent Reznor is my shopping mall Santa Claus.
But I digress….
I ran to the car because, for some reason, I had brought my camera but had left it in the trunk. I ran back faster than I’ve ever run before.
This isn’t a joke because, as my friend Kevin can attest, I don’t run. Ever. For anything. I think running is just some fucked-up, bullshit version of walking and I refuse to do it.
Except that night. That night was run-worthy.
I got back inside, handed the camera to Kathy, and headed back upstairs to the lounge. I wanted to see if I could tell what he was wearing so I could keep an eye out for him when he eventually left.
I turned a corner up the stairs and stopped dead in my tracks. Standing at the top of the stairs, heading right down toward me, was Trent.
I spun around and ran back down the stairs, grabbed the camera, turned it on, handed it to Kathy, and whispered, “He’s coming.” I was excited. Kathy was embarassed. I didn’t care.
Trent was five stairs away. Four. Three.
This was it. I either had to say something now or forget the whole thing.
Justin: “Trent, um… I don’t mean to be rude but… could I get in a picture with you quick?”
Trent: “Sure.”
Trent’s Brain: “Leave me alone, you creepy bald man. I’m full of tacos and want to go home.”
Justin’s Brain: “He smells good; great cologne.”
Justin: “Maybe that’s just his natural scent.”
Trent: “What?”
Justin’s Brain: “You said that outloud! Shut up! Get your picture and get the fuck out of there!”
So we both stopped, turned, and:
Just before that shot was taken, I put my arm on his back. I don’t know why I did that because I never would just do that to a stranger. I remember thinking, “I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t touch his back. That’s creepy. He probably doesn’t like this. Should I take my arm away? And if so, would that then be weird?”
I was shaking worse than Katherine Hepburn on a Tilt-A-Whirl.
Kathy suggested we take another shot. Trent said, “Get my good side this time,” and turned his back to the camera. I giggled like a school girl on a playground who had just heard the funniest joke ever from the dreamiest boy ever.
Once again, we stopped, turned, and:
Once again, I must be clear here: I have no clue what I’m actually doing in this photo. I admit that I like to pose awkwardly in photos because I think it’s funny, but this is just weird.
First, I’m pointing. At what, I have no idea. But I felt the need to point at something. Second, I’m looking at him out of the corner of my eye, almost as if I’m afraid he’ll run away if I turn my head. Or, like a ghost, that he’ll dissolve into nothingness if I look elsewhere. And I look fat and creepy from the Hawaiian burger and Stellas I had downed at the previous stop.
Still, he stuck around for a few seconds. I told him I was looking forward to his upcoming tour with Jane’s Addiction. He said he was, too. I babbled something else I can’t remember. He smiled and nodded and humored me. And then, he left.
So intercoursing cool.
You see, I’m not typically like this with celebrities. I’ve met a fair amount of them over the years, even have a few friends who are fairly famous, and I don’t geek out like that ever. I used to when I was younger, but it’s been a long, long time since I had that little control over my own mind and body.
It was weird, man. Very weird.
We headed upstairs and started trivia night with Har Mar. As if all of this weren’t already enough to write about, the night got even weirder.
We were two questions away from ending our trivia time with Har Mar when two girls walked in.
Girl #1: “Can we play?”
Har Mar: “There are only two questions left, but sure.”
The girls had friends who were already playing, so they just joined their team. It was at this point that our friend Karen leaned over and said, “That’s Kirsten Dunst.”
I turned, looked, and sure enough: Kirsten Dunst had crashed trivia night with Har Mar Superstar. I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again: L.A. is a fucking weird town.
We all left Kirsten alone, but I have to admit that I thought about approaching her. I had it all planned out in my head. I would walk over to her with my camera in my hand and say:
Justin: “Excuse me, Kirsten?”
Kirsten: “Yes?”
Justin: “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt or anything, but–“
Kirsten: “Oh, you want a photo with me? Sure!”
Justin: “That’s nice of you, but no. I just wanted to show you this picture of me and Trent Reznor.”
Guess I’ll leave that one for when I finally meet Paul Reubens.
Death, you can take me now,
…because in addition to recently finding out that Nine Inch Nails and Jane’s Addiction are going on tour together this summer, they just announced that Street Sweeper will be joining them on tour.
Street Sweeper is the new project of Tom Morello (Rage Against the Machine/The Nightwatchman) and Boots Riley (The Coup).
And as if that weren’t sweet enough, the promos for the tour are referring to this Nine Inch Nails/Jane’s Addiction team-up as NIN/JA.
NINJAS!!!
Fucking awesome.
Time to get the Clorox,
The Blarg 