| We take some cold comfort in the idea that we live
in an age when an album populated by characters straight out of Ibsen
or Strindberg can be as legitimately popular as Amnesiac really
is. But we feel mainly nervous when we consider the direction things
have been heading. Once we were introverted, or living in dreams --
the album's first two songs -- but now we have come into contact with
others, and we are spewing venom every time we open our mouths. Our
attention to our meanings has sharpened, and our targets have multiplied.
Even as we see how well-aimed the shots are, we feel certain that
our whole city will be destroyed. We are right to be little anxious
about this, too: unless our track listing lies, “Morning Bell”
will be next, and we remember that one from the last time we ran into
Thom Yorke in a dark alley. |
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