“Closer” — an anthem
of self-loathing and a pop hit
for people who hate pop
of self-loathing and a pop hit
for people who hate pop
When MTV first saw the “Closer” video in 1994,
the producers had a collective meltdown.
On the screen — Trent Reznor in a gas mask, tied to a rotating cross. In between — dead animals, naked bodies, a pig’s head on a spit.
MTV cranked the censor up to the max: the cross was flipped back, the bodies were blurred, and the harshest scenes were replaced with a “SCENE MISSING” card. The irony is that this panicked censorship made the video cult — people only wanted more to see what had been cut.
In the climax — the scream “Help me!” that sounds more like a mantra of despair than
a pop chorus.
a pop chorus.
“Closer” is the main provocateur on NIN’s album The Downward Spiral (1994)
Reznor admitted: the track was “too obvious,” almost “disco,” and releasing such bluntness was scary.
But it was in this mix of dirt and funk groove that the magic was born. The base came from a reversed drum sample from Iggy Pop’s “Nightclubbing.” The bass — played on a rare Oberheim OB-Mx prototype, which Reznor himself nicknamed “Obermoog.”
The dark sexual explicitness of the track shocked many, but it didn’t stop it from becoming an unexpectedly mainstream hit that pushed the boundaries of the genre. The mix of raw industrial noise and catchy dance rhythm made “Closer” a brazen “pop song” of the nineties. By the way, a significant part of The Downward Spiral, which included “Closer,” was recorded in the infamous house at 10050 Cielo Drive (where Sharon Tate was murdered). There Reznor set up the studio Le Pig — the name a comment on the word PIG scrawled on the house’s door. Later he admitted this irony hit him like a boomerang: after meeting Tate’s sister, he realized he didn’t want to feed off tragedy — and moved out.
1975: Rock Needed a New Myth
From a production standpoint, “Closer” is an experiment on the edge of decency: trashy synthesizers, funk rhythm, and layers of industrial screech. The song opens with a minimal drum machine beat and a hypnotic bass. In the background, the “broken mechanisms” build up: false, creaky synths and distorted melodies — intentionally torn apart and stitched back together.
At the climax comes the insistent plea-confession “Help me — you bring me closer to God,” followed by a dark instrumental echo. Flood, who had already worked with Depeche Mode, helped with production: he even got a separate credit line — Special Hi-Hat Programming. Also used in creating the track were an Akai S1100 sampler and computer sequencers; the bass was recorded on the rare Oberheim OB-Mx prototype. One of the key “dirty” layers was reverse reverbs and warped loops; Reznor loved overloading preamps and “re-stitching” signals in the sequencer so the track felt like a machine on its last breath. The extended single Closer (to God) with remixes (including “Closer (Precursor)”) polished the beat to cinematic levels — and this version opened the credits of Se7en, Fincher’s film Reznor would work with more than once again.
From a production standpoint, “Closer” is an experiment on the edge of decency: trashy synthesizers, funk rhythm, and layers of industrial screech. The song opens with a minimal drum machine beat and a hypnotic bass. In the background, the “broken mechanisms” build up: false, creaky synths and distorted melodies — intentionally torn apart and stitched back together.
At the climax comes the insistent plea-confession “Help me — you bring me closer to God,” followed by a dark instrumental echo. Flood, who had already worked with Depeche Mode, helped with production: he even got a separate credit line — Special Hi-Hat Programming. Also used in creating the track were an Akai S1100 sampler and computer sequencers; the bass was recorded on the rare Oberheim OB-Mx prototype. One of the key “dirty” layers was reverse reverbs and warped loops; Reznor loved overloading preamps and “re-stitching” signals in the sequencer so the track felt like a machine on its last breath. The extended single Closer (to God) with remixes (including “Closer (Precursor)”) polished the beat to cinematic levels — and this version opened the credits of Se7en, Fincher’s film Reznor would work with more than once again.
The music video is a monster of its own. Mark Romanek came up with the idea of a “lost reel” from the 1920s: a hand-cranked 1919 camera, three-strip film, frames scratched, burned, coated with lacquer — to make it look like a museum artifact. The video imagery is literally packed with shocking visuals referencing decadent art. Here you can see nods to the works of surrealist artists and photographers: the frames directly recreate the work of Man Ray, Francis Bacon, Joel-Peter Witkin, the Brothers Quay, Giorgio de Chirico, and other masters of the grotesque. By the way, the cinematographer was Harris Savides — later a collaborator of Fincher and Sofia Coppola; hence the strict lighting and “gallery” grain.
For example, Trent Reznor appears tied and suspended on a rotating mechanism — a scene reminiscent of the famous Man Ray photo where a naked man stands between halves of a bull carcass, resembling wings. In the NIN video instead of a bull — a pig’s head mounted on a spinning device like a grotesque fountain. And the head was real, bought from a slaughterhouse: “We got those pig halves cheap — they were already starting to rot,” Romanek recalled, adding that the crew had to save themselves from the stench by dousing their respirators with cologne.
Another image — a monkey crucified. This is probably the most scandalous shot: a little monkey tied spread out on a cross, and nearby, ironically, hangs a poster of a smiling Jack Nicholson. Animal rights activists raised the alarm, but the director insisted the animal was unharmed: an inspector from the animal protection society was on set, and the monkey was specially trained to stand calmly in that position.
In another fragment, a naked girl twirls chicken eggs in her fingers before the camera — a surreal image many viewers couldn’t unsee afterward.
The legendary microphone stand “made of a spine” was created specifically for the video — like a grotesque “scientific exhibit” from a crime museum. The symbolism is as straightforward as possible: the body as a machine, the voice as a symptom.
As a result, Romanek turned Trent Reznor into the central “exhibit” of his dark cabinet of curiosities. Throughout the video, the musician is either in a BDSM mask with a gag, chained to a wall with torture tools, or shirtless, hanging on chains, spinning helplessly in the air like a marionette. “I basically tortured Trent for three or four days during filming,” Romanek laughed. “I spun him so long he looked like he was about to puke — staggering off to a trash can. He was like a piñata for us, but he never once complained.”
Reznor really endured all the abuse stoically: later he admitted that right on set he realized — this was going to be outstanding and “crack” the format of the music video. The result proved the risk: the clip turned out so perversely beautiful that many critics started calling it a work of art. Rolling Stone noted the artistic value of the video, calling “Closer” “a grainy meditation on Joel-Peter Witkin’s fetish photography, shot on vintage ’20s film and filled with indelible images — from the crucified monkey to industrialists baring their teeth like on expressionist canvases.” For such a rich visual row, production designer Tom Foden was responsible — Romanek even put him in the frame (a bald man symbolically watching the action from behind a partition).
The video collected a pile of MTV VMA nominations (cinematography, art direction, editing), but its main “award” is longevity: in the 2000s it started being shown at museum screenings as an example of how pop video can work on the level of gallery cinema.
But originally, of course, MTV couldn’t show this uncensored. Romanek and Reznor agreed not to compromise: “Trent said right away: ‘Fuck it… We’re not shooting two versions. We’ll shoot it how we want. If MTV doesn’t take it — fuck them!’” the director recalled. But the label still insisted on a censored version. In the end the clip was re-edited: the most outrageous shots blurred, darkened, or replaced with a “SCENE MISSING” title card. The crucified monkey, the cross over the naked woman’s face, and close-ups of sexual content were all cut.
Nevertheless, some sly hints slipped even into the broadcast version — for example, the silhouette of a microphone in an unusual shape resembling a nipple, or shots of pig halves hanging like angel wings. MTV played the censored clip in prime time, and despite being butchered, the video became a hit: in 1994–95 “Closer” was one of the channel’s most popular rotations.
“I saw NIN at Woodstock ‘94, covered head to toe in mud, and when ‘Closer’ hit, the whole field just convulsed. It felt less like a concert and more like mass confession.”
— Brian, 52, Columbus
Later, the uncut version went into the group’s official video collection (Closure, 1997) and was even included in the permanent collection of New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) as an example of an outstanding music video. In 2006 VH1 Classic viewers outright named “Closer” the greatest music video of all time.
Romanek recalled shopping for BDSM props worth thousands of dollars at a sex shop and arguing with the producer: “We need those beads, without them the video won’t work.” MTV, of course, ripped out the most radical scenes, but even the castrated version turned into a rotation hit. Shock — yes, but always with conscious irony.
For example, Trent Reznor appears tied and suspended on a rotating mechanism — a scene reminiscent of the famous Man Ray photo where a naked man stands between halves of a bull carcass, resembling wings. In the NIN video instead of a bull — a pig’s head mounted on a spinning device like a grotesque fountain. And the head was real, bought from a slaughterhouse: “We got those pig halves cheap — they were already starting to rot,” Romanek recalled, adding that the crew had to save themselves from the stench by dousing their respirators with cologne.
Another image — a monkey crucified. This is probably the most scandalous shot: a little monkey tied spread out on a cross, and nearby, ironically, hangs a poster of a smiling Jack Nicholson. Animal rights activists raised the alarm, but the director insisted the animal was unharmed: an inspector from the animal protection society was on set, and the monkey was specially trained to stand calmly in that position.
In another fragment, a naked girl twirls chicken eggs in her fingers before the camera — a surreal image many viewers couldn’t unsee afterward.
The legendary microphone stand “made of a spine” was created specifically for the video — like a grotesque “scientific exhibit” from a crime museum. The symbolism is as straightforward as possible: the body as a machine, the voice as a symptom.
As a result, Romanek turned Trent Reznor into the central “exhibit” of his dark cabinet of curiosities. Throughout the video, the musician is either in a BDSM mask with a gag, chained to a wall with torture tools, or shirtless, hanging on chains, spinning helplessly in the air like a marionette. “I basically tortured Trent for three or four days during filming,” Romanek laughed. “I spun him so long he looked like he was about to puke — staggering off to a trash can. He was like a piñata for us, but he never once complained.”
Reznor really endured all the abuse stoically: later he admitted that right on set he realized — this was going to be outstanding and “crack” the format of the music video. The result proved the risk: the clip turned out so perversely beautiful that many critics started calling it a work of art. Rolling Stone noted the artistic value of the video, calling “Closer” “a grainy meditation on Joel-Peter Witkin’s fetish photography, shot on vintage ’20s film and filled with indelible images — from the crucified monkey to industrialists baring their teeth like on expressionist canvases.” For such a rich visual row, production designer Tom Foden was responsible — Romanek even put him in the frame (a bald man symbolically watching the action from behind a partition).
The video collected a pile of MTV VMA nominations (cinematography, art direction, editing), but its main “award” is longevity: in the 2000s it started being shown at museum screenings as an example of how pop video can work on the level of gallery cinema.
But originally, of course, MTV couldn’t show this uncensored. Romanek and Reznor agreed not to compromise: “Trent said right away: ‘Fuck it… We’re not shooting two versions. We’ll shoot it how we want. If MTV doesn’t take it — fuck them!’” the director recalled. But the label still insisted on a censored version. In the end the clip was re-edited: the most outrageous shots blurred, darkened, or replaced with a “SCENE MISSING” title card. The crucified monkey, the cross over the naked woman’s face, and close-ups of sexual content were all cut.
Nevertheless, some sly hints slipped even into the broadcast version — for example, the silhouette of a microphone in an unusual shape resembling a nipple, or shots of pig halves hanging like angel wings. MTV played the censored clip in prime time, and despite being butchered, the video became a hit: in 1994–95 “Closer” was one of the channel’s most popular rotations.
“I saw NIN at Woodstock ‘94, covered head to toe in mud, and when ‘Closer’ hit, the whole field just convulsed. It felt less like a concert and more like mass confession.”
— Brian, 52, Columbus
Later, the uncut version went into the group’s official video collection (Closure, 1997) and was even included in the permanent collection of New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) as an example of an outstanding music video. In 2006 VH1 Classic viewers outright named “Closer” the greatest music video of all time.
Romanek recalled shopping for BDSM props worth thousands of dollars at a sex shop and arguing with the producer: “We need those beads, without them the video won’t work.” MTV, of course, ripped out the most radical scenes, but even the castrated version turned into a rotation hit. Shock — yes, but always with conscious irony.
“Closer” made industrial rock part of the mainstream. NIN became the face of the genre, and The Downward Spiral — the textbook for bold hybrids. The success of “Closer” marked a new stage for ’90s alternative music. Nine Inch Nails suddenly became superstars, embodying industrial rock for the mass media. In 1997, Spin magazine called Trent Reznor “the most important artist in modern music,” noting that he was responsible not only for popularizing industrial metal, but also for “bringing techno and electronic sounds into the mainstream.”
Most clearly NIN’s influence shows on performers with the same taste for shock. For example, Marilyn Manson in the early days was practically Reznor’s protégé.
Trent saw talent in the outrageous Florida rocker and produced Manson’s debut album in 1994. After “Closer” came out, Manson learned the lesson: shock-promotion works if there’s quality music behind it. He spoke respectfully about Reznor’s role: “Nine Inch Nails had a huge influence on me, meeting Trent and his offer to sign me played a huge role in my life.” Manson also admitted: “He taught me many things… much of what I know about music.” Not surprisingly, when Marilyn Manson released the scandalous Antichrist Superstar in 1996 (produced with Reznor’s involvement), critics called him the “godfather” of that album — as if Reznor handed over the torch of the “dark Prince of rock.” The themes of self-destruction, blasphemy, and sexual deviance NIN raised in The Downward Spiral found further development in Manson’s work, but on an even more shocking level.
Another example — Korn and the entire nu-metal wave of the mid-’90s. Korn frontman Jonathan Davis grew up on goth and industrial sounds of the ’80s, and NIN’s arrival clearly showed him how to integrate electronics and dark lyrics into metal. Korn’s debut album came out at the end of 1994 — just six months after “Closer” — and marked the birth of a new style, mixing aggressive guitar riffs with thick industrial effects.
The music press directly pointed out that Korn inherited NIN’s spirit of experimentation and willingness to shock the listener with unusual sound. Moreover, nu-metal leaders openly worshipped NIN: Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst, a huge Reznor fan, even inserted lines from NIN songs (including “you wanna fuck me like an animal” from “Closer”) into his track “Hot Dog.”
And Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee in one show called “Closer” “the best song for fucking of all time”: “Seriously, dude: ‘I wanna fuck you like an animal’ — that’s the perfect soundtrack. You can fuck to it, dance to it, smash everything to it. Trent knew what he was doing!” he said emotionally. Such comments from rock peers highlight how powerfully “Closer” etched itself into mass culture.
The influence also went far beyond rock. By the 2000s, Reznor had become a respected composer and sound producer. Tellingly, country legend Johnny Cash chose exactly a NIN song (“Hurt” from the same Downward Spiral) for his farewell cover in 2002. Cash’s version won a Grammy and moved Reznor deeply: “After Johnny’s version I felt like the song no longer belonged to me,” Trent said. That cover showed that NIN’s music and emotions are universal and can transcend genres.
What’s more, when even MoMA accepts the scandalous “Closer” video into its collection — that means Reznor and Romanek’s provocative child entered not just rock history, but visual art history.
“Closer” is not about shock for shock’s sake. It’s a song where a personal breakdown is packaged into a hit that grooves harder than any radio pop. The video is a museum of nightmares, the track is a confession. Together they are a ’90s artifact that hasn’t aged. Since then, dozens of bands have tried to copy the formula, but no one has managed to recreate that mix of control, vulnerability, and groove. Reznor summed it up: “I don’t write hits. I write the soundtrack to my psychosis.” In the case of “Closer,” the whole world wanted to listen to that soundtrack.
The true legacy of this song is that it changed the rules of the game. The Downward Spiral showed how a musician’s personal demons can turn into mass cult — as long as you dare to bare your vices into the mic. After “Closer” and its brutal candor, it became easier for many artists to sing about the forbidden. And Reznor’s musical experiments became a guiding star.
Contemporaries admit that competing with the genius of “Closer” is pointless: “People have been trying to copy that track and album ever since, but no one has been able to repeat its mystique and depth,” noted Code Orange’s Jamie Morgan.
So “Closer” remains a unique artifact of the ’90s — raw and beautiful at the same time, forever securing Nine Inch Nails the title of the main provocateurs and innovators of the alternative scene.
Reznor himself treated “Closer” with cautious love for many years — admitting the track “saved the career and almost burned it down.” But on every new NIN run he left it the right to close the gestalt: it’s that song after which silence in the hall sounds louder.
Listen Further
If “Closer” has you hooked (or you just can’t cleanse it from your mind), here are some tracks and albums to explore next:
Trent saw talent in the outrageous Florida rocker and produced Manson’s debut album in 1994. After “Closer” came out, Manson learned the lesson: shock-promotion works if there’s quality music behind it. He spoke respectfully about Reznor’s role: “Nine Inch Nails had a huge influence on me, meeting Trent and his offer to sign me played a huge role in my life.” Manson also admitted: “He taught me many things… much of what I know about music.” Not surprisingly, when Marilyn Manson released the scandalous Antichrist Superstar in 1996 (produced with Reznor’s involvement), critics called him the “godfather” of that album — as if Reznor handed over the torch of the “dark Prince of rock.” The themes of self-destruction, blasphemy, and sexual deviance NIN raised in The Downward Spiral found further development in Manson’s work, but on an even more shocking level.
Another example — Korn and the entire nu-metal wave of the mid-’90s. Korn frontman Jonathan Davis grew up on goth and industrial sounds of the ’80s, and NIN’s arrival clearly showed him how to integrate electronics and dark lyrics into metal. Korn’s debut album came out at the end of 1994 — just six months after “Closer” — and marked the birth of a new style, mixing aggressive guitar riffs with thick industrial effects.
The music press directly pointed out that Korn inherited NIN’s spirit of experimentation and willingness to shock the listener with unusual sound. Moreover, nu-metal leaders openly worshipped NIN: Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst, a huge Reznor fan, even inserted lines from NIN songs (including “you wanna fuck me like an animal” from “Closer”) into his track “Hot Dog.”
And Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee in one show called “Closer” “the best song for fucking of all time”: “Seriously, dude: ‘I wanna fuck you like an animal’ — that’s the perfect soundtrack. You can fuck to it, dance to it, smash everything to it. Trent knew what he was doing!” he said emotionally. Such comments from rock peers highlight how powerfully “Closer” etched itself into mass culture.
The influence also went far beyond rock. By the 2000s, Reznor had become a respected composer and sound producer. Tellingly, country legend Johnny Cash chose exactly a NIN song (“Hurt” from the same Downward Spiral) for his farewell cover in 2002. Cash’s version won a Grammy and moved Reznor deeply: “After Johnny’s version I felt like the song no longer belonged to me,” Trent said. That cover showed that NIN’s music and emotions are universal and can transcend genres.
What’s more, when even MoMA accepts the scandalous “Closer” video into its collection — that means Reznor and Romanek’s provocative child entered not just rock history, but visual art history.
“Closer” is not about shock for shock’s sake. It’s a song where a personal breakdown is packaged into a hit that grooves harder than any radio pop. The video is a museum of nightmares, the track is a confession. Together they are a ’90s artifact that hasn’t aged. Since then, dozens of bands have tried to copy the formula, but no one has managed to recreate that mix of control, vulnerability, and groove. Reznor summed it up: “I don’t write hits. I write the soundtrack to my psychosis.” In the case of “Closer,” the whole world wanted to listen to that soundtrack.
The true legacy of this song is that it changed the rules of the game. The Downward Spiral showed how a musician’s personal demons can turn into mass cult — as long as you dare to bare your vices into the mic. After “Closer” and its brutal candor, it became easier for many artists to sing about the forbidden. And Reznor’s musical experiments became a guiding star.
Contemporaries admit that competing with the genius of “Closer” is pointless: “People have been trying to copy that track and album ever since, but no one has been able to repeat its mystique and depth,” noted Code Orange’s Jamie Morgan.
So “Closer” remains a unique artifact of the ’90s — raw and beautiful at the same time, forever securing Nine Inch Nails the title of the main provocateurs and innovators of the alternative scene.
Reznor himself treated “Closer” with cautious love for many years — admitting the track “saved the career and almost burned it down.” But on every new NIN run he left it the right to close the gestalt: it’s that song after which silence in the hall sounds louder.
Listen Further
If “Closer” has you hooked (or you just can’t cleanse it from your mind), here are some tracks and albums to explore next:
- Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral (1994, album): Dive into the parent album to experience “Closer” in context. From the furious “March of the Pigs” to the haunting “Hurt,” this concept album amplifies the lust, rage, and despair that “Closer”. It’s a front-to-back journey into darkness that many consider NIN’s magnum opus.
- Nine Inch Nails – “Sin” (1989, song): For an earlier dose of Reznor’s take on sex and religion, check out “Sin” from Pretty Hate Machine. It’s got a danceable industrial groove and lyrics grappling with guilt and desire – a spiritual predecessor to “Closer”’s themes. Plus, that late-80s synth vibe gives you a taste of where NIN started.
- Nine Inch Nails – Further Down the Spiral (1995, remix album): If you’re intrigued by the sonic textures of “Closer,” this remix collection offers alternate versions, including “Closer (Precursor)”. That particular remix (by Coil) is famous for its use in the movie Se7en’s opening credits – a chilling, mostly instrumental take that highlights just how cinematic NIN’s sound can be.
- Marilyn Manson – Antichrist Superstar (1996, album): Ready for more blasphemy and biting cultural critique? Produced by Trent Reznor, this album took the shock-rock baton and ran with it. Songs like “Closer” paved the way for Manson’s hits (“The Beautiful People,” etc.), and the album’s mix of industrial metal and provocative lyrics will appeal if you loved the transgressive side of “Closer.”
- Iggy Pop – “Nightclubbing” (1977, song): A left-field suggestion, but hear us out – this slinky, deadpan track from Iggy’s Bowie-produced era directly inspired “Closer”’s beat. It’s slow, decadent, and feels like the soundtrack to a late-night seedy lounge. Listening to it is like tracing “Closer”’s family tree: you’ll catch the vibe that Reznor “Frankensteined” into his own evil disco.
- Depeche Mode – Songs of Faith and Devotion (1993, album): For another 90s take on the sex-and-spirituality theme, this album finds Depeche Mode blending rock, gospel, and electronic grooves. Tracks like “In Your Room” and “Walking In My Shoes” exude a dark sensuality and struggle with faith that fans of “Closer”’s lyrical bent might appreciate. It’s not as heavy, but it’s dripping with mood and yearning.
