Cyrus McNally McNally is currently
extracting the text of the Bible from the human genome. He can be
reached at [email protected].
As an adamant fan of Radiohead, I thought I’d let you know
right off the bat that writing a column on the new album was not as
easy as I thought.
Sometimes a record comes along that is so consummate, so
impeccably cunning and precisely crafted that any attempt to
describe it ends up doing it a big disservice.
Hence, the ensuing qualitative analysis is not a
“review” by any means, as there are already too many of
those.
If you are one of those who hasn’t heard this album yet, I
suggest you do not read this column. I’m not trying to scare
my own audience or anything, I just don’t want to be the one
who taints your initial impressions of one of the greatest albums
of all time with my own rudimentary proclamations.
Whatever you’ve heard about “Kid A,” the
band’s two week-old release, forget it. Never mind the fact
that it debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Top 200 and has already
sold well over 200,000 copies, “Kid A” is best listened
to without expectations. The quintet’s efforts to keep the
album shrouded in secrecy before its release (which were undermined
by Napsterians who had the entire album up weeks earlier) left many
fans guessing about the album’s content with almost no clues
to go on.
It is Radiohead’s unpredictability that allows it to take
songwriting to the next level, one notch about the competition.
This talent shines in the new album.
Having already listened to the album several times since I
picked it up last Saturday, I am still obsessing over it, finding
little nuances of sound previously undiscovered: a background
scream here, a subliminal synth line there, etc. “Kid
A” is such a nugget of tonal abundance that it makes
“OK Computer,” the band’s previous release, seem
like seedless rye in comparison.
Similar trend-setting “avant-rock” bands such as the
Beatles, Pink Floyd and REM have all successfully dealt with the
problem of how to follow up one sonically intrepid album with
another while remaining commercially viable at the same time,
proving it can indeed be done.
Radiohead stands alone in its quality and type of music and it
needn’t budge for critics nor record companies or fans alike.
Its creative output is thus served up unprocessed and put on the
dinner table cold and raw.
The band’s quest for total control over their own sound
goes back to the days of mid-1996, when Thom Yorke handed over to
Capitol Records a demo of the most “normal” song
(“Electioneering”) for their upcoming album, in an
attempt to dissuade creativity-castrating executives from barging
into the studio to make sure it wasn’t recording a modern-day
“Rites of Spring,” with electric guitars instead of
oboes (a feat they saved for “Kid A”).
When the resulting album, “OK Computer,” put
Radiohead on the map forever and was proclaimed one of the
“top 100 albums of all time” by several magazines
within two years of its release, Capitol wisely decided it best to
keep the heavy hand of their administrative girths at a distance
from the band’s mixers.
Not only did Radiohead reinvent alternative rock yet again with
“OK Computer,” they saved a nation disillusioned with
the voice of indistinguishably disgruntled youths, and the filthy
entourage of Nirvana/Pearl Jam wannabes which dominated the stale
airwaves.
The harsh minimalist concoctions to be found on the album, such
as “Everything In Its Right Place” or
“Idioteque” are a far cry from the guitar-driven grunge
days of the band’s first album, “Pablo Honey.”
But by abandoning the antiquated verse/chorus structure of most pop
music of today, Radiohead is helping to reinvent the concept of
rock ‘n’ roll.
Such rule-breaking songs found on “Kid A,” like
“The National Anthem” contain enough orchestration to
make Wagner proud. However, this particular national anthem is not
a jingoish tribute to mass conformity set to the sounds of
triumphant fanfare.
Instead, Colin Greenwood’s repetitive bass line lunges
along incessantly while Yorke chimes about the alienation one might
feel if attending a ball game opening with Toccata and Fugue
instead of the “Star-Spangled Banner” (or in
Yorke’s case, “God Save the Queen” at a football
match). “Everyone is so near, so alone,” Yorke laments,
before a cacophonous band of intricately arranged jazz horns breaks
the soundscape.
From this point on, the band begins a steady descent into
madness ““ a la Coltrane ““ as Yorke yelps impotently to
discipline its seemingly directionless blaring. Yet there is no
relief as the harmony explodes into a dissonant bouquet of
befuddled trumpet, horn and saxophone solos.
Harkening back to the crunch of older rock-outs “My Iron
Lung” and “Electioneering,”
“Optimistic” is the song most likely to be an outtake
from the “OK Computer” sessions.
The song glides along on a muted tribal rhythm as Yorke sings
about flies, vultures and dinosaurs, ending with a jazzy chord
progression. Thom’s soothing vocal line and Greenwood’s
frenetic bass chops at this point are some of the only reminders of
the old Radiohead on the whole album.
Pieces like “Everything In Its Right Place,”
“Morning Bell” and “In Limbo” all
experiment with time signatures usually exogenous to pop music,
giving them a sense that everything is a bit off-kilter ““
even if also in its right place.
While the lyrical content of “Kid A” might be a bit
more sublime with its treatises than “OK Computer,”
themes of alienation, confusion and helplessness abound, set to
minimalistic masterpieces manage to retain the tried-and-true
spirit of rock ‘n’ roll in a big way.
Less guitars and more sourceless noises might scare fans into
thinking that Radiohead has lost it completely, when in fact they
must have it quite together to still be functional after recording
this album.
With “Kid A,” Yorke, age 32, proves he has not gone
soft through the years, and still has many more demons to exorcise
from his shadow, and thus hopefully many more stellar releases as
well.