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The record is filled with lovely ballads, full of longing, jealousy and critiques of consumer culture. But the best is the last: "Street Spirit (Fade Out)." Over chiming guitar arpeggios, Yorke sings a hymn to his own claustrophobia and insignificance, making them sound like exalted states of being. When he intones, "Cracked eggs, dead birds scream as they fight for life," he finds solace in the vowels, transforming them into a melody of hope. By the end of the song, with harmonies swirling around, the beauty has touched even him: The final words on an emotional, bleak album are "Immerse your soul in love."
The record is filled with lovely ballads, full of longing, jealousy and critiques of consumer culture. But the best is the last: "Street Spirit (Fade Out)." Over chiming guitar arpeggios, Yorke sings a hymn to his own claustrophobia and insignificance, making them sound like exalted states of being. When he intones, "Cracked eggs, dead birds scream as they fight for life," he finds solace in the vowels, transforming them into a melody of hope. By the end of the song, with harmonies swirling around, the beauty has touched even him: The final words on an emotional, bleak album are "Immerse your soul in love."