Amnesiac is very nearly traditional in its narrative gambits; its structural integrity can fairly be called classical. So far it’s been a maze-like sequence of horror-movie lulls and crests, and the fun of it has been learning that the lulls are deeper than they look and the crests are less exciting than unnerving. The traditional moods associated with with the movements of an album -- from catchy opening number to weightier second song; from slow, sad number to mid-tempo, brighter number; et cetera -- are here toyed with in a delightfully malicious way, though the movements themselves have been preserved. The idea of all this, I think, is to hold a traditional high-reaching rock album up to a funhouse mirror, and then, instead of looking and laughing for a minute as we usually do when we’re in the funhouse, to stare directly into the distorted face until things begin to feel really uncomfortable. And then to look some more. |
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