Some records feel impossible to write about. Not because they lack substance, but because they possess too much of it: too much quiet, too much space, too much mystery. They resist language the way water resists a net. Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden (1988) and Laughing Stock (1991) feel like works designed to escape description altogether. And perhaps the paradox is this: the quieter the music becomes, the more words people spend trying to grasp it. Silence invites interpretation; these albums invite entire libraries. Approaching them feels like stepping barefoot into a dark, vast hall – your perception sharpened, your . . .
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