Trent Reznor spent years making records about dread and disgust, but what if he had studied musical theater instead of computer engineering? Prick, the 1991 debut from Kevin McMahon’s theatrical industrial project, is the answer to that question. It is a record that takes the brooding industrial template of Reznor’s own work and runs it through a funhouse mirror, emerging as something gleefully unhinged.
This record embraces the theatricality of goth music in a manner that Nine Inch Nails never attempted. McMahon delivers verses that are half-spoken and sound lifted from a musical, followed by full-throated screams that echo Al Jourgensen’s work with Faith No More. The production is rough-around-the-edges, centered on live instrumentation that reads as a prototype for what Reznor would later revisit on With Teeth. It is that willingness to be goofy and over-the-top that makes the album irresistible.
The Openers Set the Tone
The album opens with “Communiqué,” a rough blast of simple punk riffs topped with electronic sprinklings. McMahon’s vocals shift between spoken delivery and full-throated screams, and the rough production sounds like a prototype for what Reznor would later revisit on With Teeth. It is a solid start, but it is the second track where the record truly finds its footing.
Riverhead Breaks Through
“Riverhead” is where Reznor’s influences fully rear their head, even though he is not credited as the producer. The vocal melodies swerve like Outside- and Earthling-era Bowie, while the guitars buzz with the digital charr of the Broken EP. Around the three-minute mark, the track breaks down into layers of electronic drums, mechanical chords, and loping synthetic guitar melodies. The whole back half could easily have been a Downward Spiral or even a Fragile B-side.
The album undercuts its own ambition at the very beginning. The loose, messy garage-punk opening of “Tough” is precisely what makes Prick endearing. It is a serious record, yet it never takes itself too seriously. McMahon allows the guitar to wander out of time, lets the bass strings rattle, and fully embraces industrial lo-fi.
Animal and the Lyrics That Made It Famous
The most famous track on the album is “Animal”, which earned some MTV airplay through its video. Its music draws on backward melodic samples with a sound similar to “Closer”, while the words follow a related subject.
- Consent is all I need
- To bring out the savage in me
- Your scent is all I need
- To bring out the animal in me
Where “Closer” goes for slinky disco sleaze, “Animal” instead leans into raw shouted desire. The lyrics are playful and absurd, and the performance matches them.
I Apologize Collapses On Itself
One of my favorite tracks on the album is “I Apologize”, which is the most scatter-brained of the bunch. It starts with a whip-crack-like opening beat and McMahon singing slightly off-key in an unaffected way, then shifts into a jangly new wave verse that swiftly turns into a hard-rock stop during the chorus. The second verse trades in “Space Oddity”-era Bowie acoustic strums, followed by a solo that sounds like an arcade machine close to malfunctioning. After that, the song descends into a Ministry-esque dirge of layered guitars and screams. It then comes back to the chorus but keeps piling on elements until it is stuffed to capacity and collapses in on itself.
Prick vs. Its Peers
Prick shares plenty with other ’90s industrial acts, but McMahon is clearly having a lot more fun than many of his contemporaries. That difference elevates the record above the myriad Nine Inch Nails wannabes out there. It is a record that knows exactly what it is doing, even when it is doing something messy.
Most major streaming services carry Prick, with Apple Music, Spotify, Qobuz, Deezer, and YouTube Music among them. The record earns repeat plays not due to polish, but through its complete commitment to a theatrical vision.
This record serves as a reminder that the finest industrial music does not depend on technical precision alone. Instead, it thrives on energy, commitment, and an openness to letting the chaos spill out. Prick possesses all three qualities in great measure, and it is ideally suited for spooky season.
Source material: “Prick’s theatrical industrial punk is perfect for spooky season,” The Verge.
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