Trent Reznor's eagerly awaited return to the American stage dominated the first day of the Chicago music festival
Despite the looming suggestion of an epic storm, a robust bout of Friday morning rain has made itself scarce in time
for the lunchtime start of the first day of Lollapalooza. Seeing as I'm wearing woefully impractical sandals, I'm overjoyed, but today's comeback king – Trent Reznor, the muscle-bound bench-pressing champ of synth-driven sleazecore – probably wouldn't have minded a sultry electrical storm fizzling away during Nine Inch Nails' first North American set in almost four years.
Though Nine Inch Nails
are up against The Killers and Lana Del Rey, it's not surprising that the more mature festival-goers make up Nine Inch Nails' doggedly enthusiastic audience. Trent Reznor, now 48, evidently hasn't spent his time since his most famous act's last album sitting on his laurels. He's been flexing them instead, proudly keeping up that sleeveless tank top and bulging biceps combo. A smattering of new songs, aired last weekend at Fuji Rock and Ansan Valley Rock festivals, are played, but the crowd are really here to be blasted with strobes, swamped in dry ice and engage in an unsettling sing-alongs with the 1994 track Closer. A rather explicit deckchair lapdance also takes place during the song, on a bit of swampy grass to my left. So if you've ever wondered what gets the mild Midwest's pulses racing, it's thudding industrial alt.rock with well placed swearing and nods towards bestiality.
The day starts with the Swedish duo Icona Pop, who bring mass euphoria to hundreds of teenage girls, pogoing into the Thelma & Louise-ish best-mates anthem Girlfriend. Thematically, it's the kind of PC pop that puts its daughter in a blue babygrow and gives its son a Barbie to play with, but why it took 11 people to write it we're not quite sure. However, lets not question such chart-tickling genius, even if it does need a crew the size of a football team to create it.
