The Downward Spiral is the sort of album that people can read and discuss like a novel. It comes out of speakers and headphones densely layered. One could realistically write an entire book about The Downward Spiral and its creation (the album was recorded in the house Sharon Tate was murdered in, for example). Like many classic works of literature, it’s a tragedy — hard to believe it’s been certified quadruple platinum, and spawned two hit singles that still receive regular radio play.

Trent’s first concept album, The Downward Spiral takes a man — presumably Reznor — and follows his descent into promiscuity, addiction, madness, and eventually suicide. There are other characters — a policeman, let us call him “Piggy,” and a woman, let us call her “Reptile,” (the plot is quite vague, and mostly window dressing besides) — but really the focus is Reznor’s straight line to implosion. He is “Mr. Self Destruct” and the first thing the album presents is the sound of him being beaten.

The Downward Spiral’s first half, following “Mr. Self Destruct,” is a series of industrial rock singles, the most clear and sensible songs on the record, fusing the pop and dance styles of Pretty Hate Machine with the industrial metal of the Broken EP. “Piggy” rides on a plucky bassline, before “Heresy,” the only weak track on the album, comes out guitars wailing and quoting Nietzsche. “March Of The Pigs” feels like a song from the Broken EP before Reznor cuts it with a jazzy piano interlude that becomes the song’s main selling point.

After that it’s “Closer,” the song, with its accompanying kinky music video, that made Reznor a sex symbol. Almost twenty years later, it’s still sexy. How many young men and women bought their first handcuffs after hearing it? The mind reels. For all of its transgressive animal-like-fucking, at its heart “Closer” is a disco track — its all-important hi-hat was programmed specifically by Flood.

The Downward Spiral turns from a dark pop-rock record into something more sinister and complex toward the end of “Ruiner,” after its iconic guitar solo, my favorite moment on the album. After that, rock instruments fade, and choruses of buzzing synths, like a swarm of distant locusts — the recurring insects in the lyrics — take over. Songs bleed together, and moods shift. The fear of “I Do Not Want This,” becomes the rage of “Big Man With A Gun,” and the holiness of “A Warm Place,” becomes the nihilistic hunger of “Eraser.” The Downward Spiral is, at its heart, about layers, thematically and musically — the second side of the album piles on and removes loops of synths, processors, guitars and drums until traditional song structures buckle and warp. Which is what makes “Hurt” so jarring — that song has its electronic accouterments, but it’s the most stripped-down and straightforward track on The Downward Spiral. On other records, the ballad at the end would be a gentle reprieve from the noise, but here it’s a raw, exposed nerve. For a man known for doing everything himself, and often writing about himself, Reznor’s tough to pin down as a person, but “Hurt” is a brief window right into the soul of the artist. It’s the song in his discography that feels the most autobiographical, and it’s the ideal note on which to end his best album.