Airbag. Radiohead. 1997. Capitol.

A theme of experiencing alienation madness from the isolating effects of modern technology as expressed by a group of musicians enjoying global success may ring hollow but, as realized on Radiohead’s Airbag, the concept works, drolly reimagined as a fantasy rebirth into twenty-first century consumer culture. Like Roger Waters, Thom Yorke’s voice carries the unmitigated strain of modern living, and, like Waters, he risks self-parody every time he opens his mouth to sing. But on Airbag he’s aware of the power of his voice to convey genuine desperation, finding cathartic relief in the refrain, “In an interstellar blast I am born again.” Unambiguous and inflammatory, it’s a pronouncement descended from the White Album’s infamous “When you talk about destruction…count me out…in…”, and evokes the Red Army Faction’s messianic commitment to extremism, Ted Kaczynski’s gnomic distress, and the bewildering monotony of today’s internet conspiracy savant, practicing public violence and struggling to make a name for himself in darkened theaters, schoolyards, supermarkets, and shopping malls. Airbag plays like an 11th hour redemptive vision before the veil of shame and self-pity is permanently, ingloriously rent.


Sept 8 021

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