Friday, August 17, 2007


With this track, the band is well into its darkest, artiest period. The verses are queasy and groaning, the chorus is frantic and hectoring. This is goth to the point where it sounds like the band is trying to will itself back into the Dark Ages. (Is that a hammered dulcimer in there?) Still, as the song reaches its final crescendo, Jarvis gets in some good, disturbing imagery, though without a lyric sheet it’s pretty impenetrable. “…your reasonable wishes, timetables kisses, your well rehearsed phrases, your separate bedrooms, your forbidden places. Out on the moorland, you're naked and bleeding with no sign of shelter and no place to hide in….”

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