It's like an itch that can't be scratched. It's discordant and the lyrics that can be discerned are those of melancholic life in a plastic bubble. Theres a certain schizophrenic stammer of suffering and misanthropy.
While
I am Kid A I listen to Kid A, humans.
The album speaks to me in soft whispering lulls, telling me of the unbalance in my unsettled mind.
It allows me to focus on the innermost thoughts however disparaging and pen them to paper. My twitching and nervous digits tick, tick, tick away until simple words turn to flowing paragraphs of emotion previously hidden from my waking mind.
It starts with a simple sound, a tone somewhat like a bell, interrupted by a voice that throws open the flood gates of my ego. For a moment the constant static is clear, but once it ends I am left a shadow of what I've written.
For some humans, music brings joy. For Kid A it brings function and clarity.
Reply
