Arbitrarily Good Productions and Namethemachine have done an outstanding job of translating the ‘feel’ of these albums into a multimedia format, though the contribution of longtime collaborator Stanley Donwood cannot be understated. ‘How To Disappear Completely’ plays out like a cross between a lullaby and an anxiety attack and ‘Knives Out’ sees the band descend to morbid depths Īll of these emotions and more are reflected in this audiovisual fever dream. After all, the music on which this museum bases itself can hardly be described as easy listening: ‘Idioteque’ and ‘Like Spinning Plates’ weave social panic and biting political commentary into their lyrics The world around you poses little threat (many of the creatures you come across seem docile, perhaps even friendly) yet a foreboding sense of dread is prevalent throughout. That isn’t to say this is a relaxing time. Stopping to fully appreciate every detail could take hours, but it’s refreshing to sink time into something for the thrill of discovery rather than achieving any specific goal. Kid A Mnesia: Exhibition is for the most part nonlinear, and the one occasion in which the player is forced to remain in one area for a certain amount of time winds up feeling just as freeform as the rest. Even lingering in the areas between installations is worthwhile, with each boasting a completely unique atmosphere. There are many more of these interactive moments to be found, and each one makes slow exploration rewarding. Stepping on any of the floor markings in its shadow causes your surroundings to warp, and dramatically alters the mix – one isolates angular reversed guitar melodies and casts a spectral maroon overlay into the room – while walking up and down the scaffolding around the edges adds and strips away the track’s descending bass riff. Though the visual elements are impressive in their own right, the way they integrate with the audio is the crux of the ‘gameplay.’ One chamber, set to the mechanical groove of Amnesiac opener ‘Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box,’ features an ominous cube at its centre. In fact, I had missed many of the larger exhibits. After an hour of walking, I thought I had discovered most of the major features, but was pleasantly surprised to find that what I’d seen made up only around one-third of the exhibition. So far, we’re only skirting on the surface of what this treasure trove holds. Imagine the most surreal dream you’ve had, imagine at least ten more, then make pathways from one to the other through the deepest, darkest corridors of your mind, and you’ll have something close to what’s offered here. Elsewhere, rampant graffiti and newspaper clippings surround you, while televisions display hellish cartoons and studio footage. Here, and in many other sections, the experience makes full use of its digital nature, conjuring up immersive environments that could only exist within the confines of a computer featureless clay figures and particle ghosts aimlessly shuffle from room to room, overgrown roots shoot up grey walls, and imposing structures hang weightless in the air, suspended in nothingness. Pristine white interiors and their uncanny sheen give emphasis to the vibrance of more dilapidated areas like the Pyramid Atrium, which acts as something of a central hub leading to each location. Visually, the exhibition employs the contrasting cold and warm aesthetics of the twin albums to outstanding effect. It’s as you tentatively walk through the only door in sight and ‘Everything In Its Right Place’ creeps in as it creaks shut behind you that the eerie brilliance sets in.įrom then on, you are left to explore a vast labyrinth commemorating the music of Kid A and Amnesiac, the releases that cemented Radiohead as a madcap force to be reckoned with at the turn of the millennium. These are the first things you see when you load up Kid A Mnesia: Exhibition, Radiohead’s latest venture into virtual art. A sea of trees, washed of colour as to appear lifted from a book.
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