Tock, tick, tock, tick, Billie Jean (Oooo!) is not my lover, She's just a girl who claims that I am the... Oh.
"I'm becoming less defined as days go by, Fading away and well you might say I'm losing focus, kinda drifting into the abstract in terms of how I see myself." Hold the Moonwalk, it's Trent Reznor. And he's in need of chocolate.
Only doesn't blow the speakers like White Teeth predecessor The Hand That Feeds - this is slickly produced industrial pop. But fear not, NINnies, huge synths and dirty guitars prevail. "There is no you, there is only me," screams the voice of a doomed middle youth in perfect, sequenced time. Mr Reznor's demons show no signs of beating a retreat just yet, but his public can at least swivelfunk around the room to Only while he wages his inner war.