But Radiohead approaches the topic in a more oblique fashion.
People are numbers, machines are idols and no one looks each other in the eye.
In short, the album is an edifice about artifice. And what an edifice it is. Songs are eagerly constructed like a child's set of building blocks, and then torn down with the same jubilance. The sonic landscape is awash with waves of warm synthesizer and infused with cold shots of jagged guitar and bare-boned rhythm. Nuances in texture are splattered and smeared across the aural canvas, left to drip and bleed into themselves.