Scott Walker was a ladykiller-style crooner back in the 60s. Between then and this song, he seems to have lost his fucking mind.
Slow and brooding, Walker sings of things like "nose holes caked in black cocaine" and "six feet of foetus flung at sparrows in the sky" (what in the fuck) as if any of it is supposed to makes sense. Oh wait, apparently it is supposed to make sense. And apparently it's supposed to be about 9/11. As told by Elvis's stillborn brother. For those of you who don't know what stillborn is, it's when a child dies during childbirth. The song ends in darkness and silence, nothing but Walker's voice repeating "I'm the only one left alive."
The genius of Scott Walker cannot be denied, a man unafraid of experimentation and breaking musical rules who influenced David Bowie and Brian Eno. But Jesus is he fucking nuts. Or maybe we are.
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