One chamber contains a prism of cloudy yellow, like a tank of dirty honey, which you can step into when you do, the driving bassline of вЂњThe National AnthemвЂќ comes droning through the ooze.Дoes Kid A Mnesia Exhibition represent the ideal arrangement for these two fretful works? Whether, in its very nature as an installation, it is, as OвЂ™Brien had it, true to the record I canвЂ™t say while exploring, I was met not by the feeling of completion-of everything, after all this time, being in its right place-but of play, which is perhaps better news. Elsewhere, there is a minotaur patrolling an oblivion of orange, and a room lined with sheets of paper that billow as if clawed by an anxious breeze. One of the most touching moments came when, as I watched a performance of вЂњIdiotequeвЂќ-a lonely spectacle, with Yorke yelping in a cage of blue-green light-I looked to my right and found an imp staring up at me with a knowing grimace.

The little demons that capered and cried through DonwoodвЂ™s landscapes are here, wrought from paper, with eyes and fangs of ink. But the strongest presence in Kid A Mnesia Exhibition is far from human. True, there are videos of the bandвЂ™s various performances, hidden in small projection rooms. In an interview with Rolling Stone at the time, Ed OвЂ™Brien, a guitarist in Radiohead, claimed, вЂњYou couldnвЂ™t do Kid A live and be true to the record,вЂќ adding, вЂњYou would have to do it like an art installation.вЂќ The reason for such disparity between the album, as it was vacuum sealed onto CDs, and the live shows, according to OвЂ™Brien, was simple: вЂњWhen we played live, we put the human element back into it.вЂќ No danger of that here. Why should this be the case? It has something to do, I think, with the setting. The most striking thing about Kid A Mnesia Exhibition is the feeling, humming through its airy halls, that twenty years has done little to dissuade us of that trouble it continues to impend, never breaking apocalyptically loose nor dwindling into a memory. As we move through each space, songs-or scraps of songs, sliced and looping-play from both, and the mood is pierced by a sense of impending trouble. These two albums (recorded during the same sessions and originally intended as a double release) are both locked in an uneasy digital air.

We are gazing (in first-person, with a zoom feature, and the ability to break into a brisk jog) at art that is two decades old-made, as we are informed by the description on the PlayStation Store, вЂњas the millenium loomed.вЂќ And much remains of that looming.

Here the work, though freshly displayed, feels cold, and that may be the point. The effect there was one of immediacy-as though every fright had flared up in the head of its creator, Michel Ziegler, only seconds before it was worried onto the page and piped into the game. Looking at the gnarled and scribbled boughs, I was reminded of Mundaun, whose horrors were sketched out and scanned onto a faded plane. The trees are scratchily conjured in the style of Stanley Donwood, who, in collaboration with Yorke, produced a wealth of artwork for the two albums (some of which was collected in the cheery volume вЂњDead Children PlayingвЂќ). Or reality.вЂќ True enough, we begin Kid A Mnesia Exhibition with a short walk through a wood-an opportunity denied to visitors of, say, the Louvre. Because then it didnвЂ™t have to conform to any normal rules of an exhibition. Yorke, writing on the PlayStation Blog, hymns the virtues of the virtual: вЂњIt would be way better if it didnвЂ™t actually exist. Next, Westminster council had a problem with his plan to make it вЂњlook as if it had crashed into the side of the Royal Albert Hall.вЂќ Now it has found a good home, especially on the PS5, which already looks as if a brutalist spacecraft had crashed into your living room. The bandвЂ™s lead singer, Thom Yorke, first wanted a physical space-welded from shipping containers and resembling a вЂњbrutalist spacecraftвЂќ and an вЂњice pickвЂќ-but it wouldnвЂ™t fit in the Victoria & Albert Museum. Not only because it is free, on PlayStation 5 and PC, but because this marks the third attempt at building such an exhibition. The strangely titled Kid A Mnesia Exhibition is an interactive art installation, furnished with the writing, recordings, and highly pressurised gloom of two albums, Kid A (2000) and Amnesiac (2001), from the English rock band Radiohead.

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