| |
| The old CD player we had in the house
refused to play “Morning Bell” all the way though. I brought
Kid A home when it was new and sat listening to it and then, exactly
on the phrase “release me,” the wonderland of digital skipping
set in: if I hadn’t’ve broken free from the spell, I suppose
I’d still be sitting here listening to Thom Yorke infinitely
keening “eeeeeeee.” I was angry like one always is with
something that isn’t working, but I was somewhat relieved, too.
“Morning Bell” is a painful song. |
|
|