 Radiohead As with my robot porn fetish, explaining my love of Radiohead to people is a consistently difficult experience for me. Imagine me cornering unsuspecting coeds in a campus computer room and playing them an mp3 of "True Love Waits" (one of several unreleased Radiohead songs not on Kid A) and trying to explain what lead singer Thom Yorke is singing about. "See…there's this girl … in an attic … and here, when he's talking about his niece … umm, I think this part is about what she ate while she was in the attic … you kind of have to listen to it a few times … err, your hair sure smells pretty." One of the coeds looks at me with her face contorted in confusion, as if I have just dropped my pants and peed on the rug, while the other looks intrigued and whispers "I'll be your robot." You see what I mean? And this is my FAVORITE Radiohead song. I know most reading this are just as confused as my girlfriend was when I tried to explain the metallic paint on my neck hours later, but the few of you that have heard the song know what I'm talking about. Which brings us back to square one, with nothing accomplished. Onward … Let's put it this way – Radiohead make music with raw emotion, unfiltered and expressed in a way that is way beyond the ken of the typical rock band. I read a review of The Bends once that said that "U2 would have sold crack to nuns to make this record" and that about sums it up. I'll do my best job in this review to view the record in an unbiased way, despite my aforementioned Radiohead addiction. I can't promise, though, to leave out numerous erotic robot references. First and foremost, this is a great album to listen to in the dark. All of the little noises on the tracks – the ghost train pulling into the station at the beginning of the title track, the percussion halfway through "Idioteque" coming through like a swarm of hornets, Yorke's mumbling ("walking I'm walking I'm walking walking") under the building tension near the end of the electric piano driven "Morning Bell," the dirty pick scraping noises against the subtle beat of "Optimistic" – all this sounds better with nothing else to distract you from listening. The album flows with a startlingly fluid motion from beginning to end – it's probably not a concept album (whatever that is), but it definitely should be listened to as a complete piece, not as a group of individual songs. And what about the songs? They're of the quality we've come to expect from Radiohead, a band with enough killer b-sides and unreleased old songs to make a brilliant, full extra album (hint hint). "Everything In Its Right Place" rides its keyboard riff right into your brain, like a dominant master robot demanding your total subservience, permanently altering your original composition. "The National Anthem" spends about one of its six minutes on vocals, with the rest of the time afterwards devoted to a horn section freakout that becomes more compelling with every listen. Granted, this same indulgence on a Matchbox 20 album would be ridiculed to no end by myself and everyone else, but Radiohead have "earned it" – the music is so fresh and interesting on this album that you're willing to ride with them just about everywhere they want to go. "How To Disappear Completely" is unbelievable. The section at the end (where the groaning, pulsing string section drops out completely, leaving Thom's voice alone in the atmosphere before the strings swirl back in) is perfect. In "Idioteque," Thom sings a gorgeous melody over a stark techno beat and a hollowed out keyboard riff – this song is the centerpiece, the beating heart of the whole album. The churchly "Motion Picture Soundtrack" wraps up the record – "It's not like the movies," Thom insists while the harps and artificial angelic voices backing him seem in direct contradiction. "I will see you in the next life," he promises, and after a minute of silence you're making the journey with him, accompanied by more angels and what sounds like the tide of the ocean rushing over you. There's not much else to say – the music is too interesting, too different to adequately explain with all the tired words in my rock critic trickbag. Radiohead have released three stunning albums in a row, and this one supplies the warmth that the otherwise terrific OK Computer was sorely missing. It's amazing to me that a band like this can even continue to exist, much less actually debut at freaking #1 in the US, right alongside Christina and the gang. This album isn't perfect, of course – the overlong instrumental "Treefingers" that bisects the album meanders a bit too much for my tastes, and you may find some of the songs a bit non-grabby (the title track comes closest to just being video game music). The fan in me weeps for missing masterpieces like "True Love Waits" or "Nude." But this album is still superb, certainly better (or at least more interesting) than any of its cohorts at the top of the US pop charts right now. No doubt they will look back on this album in a year and be dissatisfied (as they have been with every other release), as famously self-critical as they are. But if that's what forces them to constantly explore new territory and defy pop music conventions (releasing six and a half minutes of "Paranoid Android" as the first OK Computer single, for instance), then let them think Kid A is shit. They've given us three spectacular albums in a row – yet they're still getting better.
Review by POW –SECOND OPINION– I don't get it. No, it's not that … I don't even want to get it.
Review by Uosdwis R. Dewoh |
