I like my music contrary, but this is a dreadful album. It's exactly the sort of pretentious crap you'd expect Radiohead to come out with. When a dog whimpers, the sensible thing to do is to kick it. A great heaving fat man's guts shift and churn and abruptly, inexplicably, explode. All over the place.
Windows shatter with the force of the explosion.
On the road outside Worthy Farm this year, a huge billboard that had been specially erected to advertise Richard Ashcroft's solo fruits bore down on the queue to the Glastonbury festival. So much to answer for. And now this bloke. Played with Pulp at Glasto. He goes against the English grain, this cheeky chappie.