Trent Reznor is not a Vegas kind of guy. Yet here is Mr. Self-Destruct, clad entirely in his signature black, a 5 o’clock shadow peeking through at 11 a.m., sitting on the worn leather couch of a green room inside the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino. “It’s a nice, dark room,” he says, sipping on some kind of green health drink. The place is bedecked with gaudy rock & roll memorabilia, and photos on the walls sport everyone from Ozzy Osbourne to Marilyn Manson flipping the bird. “Rock is not dead,” Reznor offers dryly. “Although I’m drinking green juice, so it’s not helping the cause.” He pauses for comedic effect.
(c) Rolling Stone 2018