Radiohead covers. Why bother? They're not dead yet; in fact they're still very much in business. At the very least give the song your own creative touch. Can't be bothered? Then you end up with something akin to Abigail Houldsworth's pointless endeavour.
Backed by floating piano chords, we trudge through exactly the same structure as the original, with Abigail helpfully removing the "fuck" for all the radio playlists. Whilst in possession of a fantastic voice, the singer is unable to inject any of the raw, desperate melancholy that first gave the song its worth. This is frankly unsurprising, as Houldsworth looks a damn sight better than "weirdo" Thom Yorke could ever dream of.
All in all this smacks of media-friendly schmoozing, a debut single that will take no time at all to interpret and then, in all likelihood, to forget.
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