Radiohead

Pablo Honey
The Bends
OK Computer
Kid A
Amnesiac
I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings
Hail To The Thief
In Rainbows


Pablo Honey (EMI ’93) Rating: B+
The first introduction to arguably the past decade’s (1993-2002) greatest band, Pablo Honey has been overshadowed by the band's subsequent albums, but is in retrospect an accomplished debut if judged solely on its own merits. That said, the album is a mere appetizer for the much better things that followed, when the band would find their own identity by embracing Pink Floyd along with their obvious debt to U2 - and then abandoning rock altogether. But more on that later; this album is primarily remembered for “Creep,” the band’s classic anthem of self-loathing angst that mixes melancholia with grunge, but there’s much more here than just that one song (despite the "one hit wonder" whispers at the time). In fact, there are several very good songs, and the band as a whole rocks harder and with a rawer edge than on any of their later albums, though the downside to this being the band’s infancy is that the album isn’t nearly as free flowing or original. Strong though some of these songs are, they don’t sound like they absolutely belong together. For example, the big arena rock riffs of “How Do You” (one of the album's weakest songs) offers a stark contrast to the R.E.M.-like ambiance of “Stop Whispering,” which, along with “I Can't” and “Blowout,” surge to soaring endings. Elsewhere, “Thinking About You” is a mellow acoustic showcase carried by singer Thom Yorke, and “Anyone Can Play Guitar” is alternately noisy and melodic, while the short but impressively intense “Prove Yourself” and the dreamily atmospheric “Lurgee” are also enjoyable. So is the album as a whole, though there are a few generic moments too many, particularly on the choruses ("Ripchord" and "Vegetable" come immediately to mind). However, those with reasonably downscaled expectations should find Pablo Honey a pleasant surprise, and only the band’s far superior follow-ups have prevented it from getting the recognition it deserves.

The Bends (EMI ‘95) Rating: A
Although “Creep” remains to many the definitive Radiohead song, it’s safe to say that Radiohead really came into their own as a band on The Bends. While the U.K. hype machine followed the Oasis-Blur duel, this superior band quietly released this under acknowledged (back then, at least) beauty. With U2’s shimmering guitar textures and the big fuzzy riffs of grunge as reference points (awesome singer Thom Yorke also recalls Bono), The Bends is kind of like the great U2 album I hope they still have in them. Which is a gross oversimplification of the band’s unique and brilliant sound, which also owes a debt to arena rock’s anthemic qualities and art rock’s angularity - all crystallized here by a masterful John Leckie production. Yorke’s sighing vocals (detractors would say “whiny” vocals) ache with resignation and emptiness, and dreamy guitars can briefly give way to futuristic freakouts (“Nice Dream,” “My Iron Lung”) before landing back in safer waters. The Bends is remarkably inventive throughout, and the surging guitars of “Planet Telex” and "Black Star," and the edgy ending to “My Iron Lung” are (unlike the scattered Pablo Honey) seemingly of a piece with lovely ballads like “High And Dry,” “Fake Plastic Trees” (guaranteed chills at around the 3:05 mark), and “Street Spirit (Fade Out).” The angst-ridden lyrics makes the record distinctly a ‘90s creation (which Alicia Silverstone dubbed “complaint rock” in the movie Clueless), but the band differs from their contemporaries due to the sheer splendor of their soundscapes, the dramatic intensity and beauty of which makes most of the other Britpop pretenders sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks by comparison. Every once in awhile a band comes along with a truly distinctive voice, and this one continues to grow and experiment at a rapid rate, striving for greatness instead of popularity, ultimately achieving both. Which, to quote “Creep,” makes them pretty fucking special, and only a few good but not great riff rockers (“The Bends,” “Bones,” “Just”) prevents The Bends from receiving the highest possible rating.

OK Computer (EMI ‘97) Rating: A+
Excellent though The Bends was, it was easily eclipsed by the blinding brilliance of OK Computer, one of my favorite albums of all time. These linked songs ebb and flow like the seamless tides of a mighty river, defying standard pop song structures while remaining highly listenable, the entrancing whole eventually becoming completely addictive. Thom Yorke’s disconsolate if often-exquisite vocals alternately soar and float around wonderfully textured but desolate soundscapes that again brings to mind an unlikely alliance between Pink Floyd’s expansive headphone sonics and the gorgeous guitars of classic U2. Again, that’s just my lame attempt at pinpointing their unique sound, and the ambitious music here is aided and abetted by interesting lyrics that almost match the lofty execution of the musical performances. Alienation and a distrust of technology are the core themes that resound throughout the album, and discordant guitar lines are likely to fade into blissfully beautiful acoustic melodies without warning, as one is never quite sure what will happen next. OK Computer doesn’t really lend itself to the single format, which is just as well since it simply must be listened to in its entirety for its overwhelming majesty to be fully appreciated. Still, there are two songs that stand out for me as being peak examples of what makes this band the best in the business right now. “Paranoid Android” starts off as a lovely acoustic song featuring Yorke’s crooning falsetto before eventually erupting into metallic mayhem that’s capped off by a razor sharp guitar solo. Quiet solitude then returns, but loud eruptions again close out the song, and each section somehow manages to surprise. It’s a total tour-de-force that’s in stark contrast to the simple but equally enjoyable pleasures of “No Surprises,” a beautiful lullaby-like ballad that features the simple perfection of tinkling keyboards matched to Yorke’s sleepy vocals. One of the best sounding albums I’ve ever experienced, OK Computer is an absolute masterpiece that's destined to sound as fresh and imaginative fifty years from now as it does today.

Kid A (EMI ’00) Rating: A+
It’s tough to follow up one masterpiece, let alone two back to back, so rather than try to repeat past successes the band has veered off in another direction altogether. The end result is as strange as it is unexpected, and though Kid A is difficult going at first, with repeat listens it soon becomes a wonderfully addictive listening experience that has no real reference point. Oh, the trippy textures (which are perfect for headphone listening) still bring Pink Floyd to mind at times, but the U2 guitar signatures are all but gone as the album is instead heavily reliant on mellow electronics for its coldly mysterious aura. Then there’s “The National Anthem,” a dazzlingly inventive cacophony of sound on which drums march, a bass guitar buzzes, and horns blare all seemingly independent of each other, yet these elements are somehow brilliantly held together in ways that have little to do with logic. Elsewhere, singer Thom Yorke whispers repetitive mantras to hypnotic effect on “Everything In It’s Right Place” and “How To Disappear Completely,” while the drifting shape shifts on the title track and the ambient interlude “Treefingers” demonstrate how standard song structures are rarely in evidence. “Optimistic,” the album’s intense guitar driven single, is a notable exception, and is the song that most recalls Radiohead’s “classic” earlier sound. The track is also distinguishable for its tribal beats, and it kicks off the album’s more conventional and consistent second half. From there the band gets jazzy on “In Limbo” before the slowly percolating dance groove of “Idioteque.” Finally, there’s Yorke’s breathtakingly beautiful vocal on “Morning Bell,” and then the sleepy, hymn-like “Motion Picture Soundtrack,” which peacefully ends the album perfectly. Restlessly experimental, occasionally disjointed but always fascinating, Kid A begs the question: “where did these guys come up with this stuff?” For Kid A is that rarity of rarities, a truly unique creation that meets enormous expectations. The band de-emphasizes what had been their two greatest assets, as there are hardly any guitars on the album and Yorke’s vocals appear less frequently and are often electronically manipulated. Yet the band has still come through with a classic, thereby distancing themselves from any and all contenders for rock n’ roll supremacy in the process. All while making an album that often has nothing at all to do with rock n’ roll. Amazing.

Amnesiac (Capitol ’01) Rating: B+
Burdened by extreme expectations after delivering three consecutive classics, Amnesiac was bound to be disappointing by comparison. The album was recorded at the same time as Kid A, and it’s tempting to consider Amnesiac not as the band’s next album proper but as leftovers from those sessions. This is especially true since it continues in the same vein as Kid A, albeit with a much warmer overall glow. As such, Amnesiac works well as a companion piece but breaks little new ground, and it seems like baby steps compared to the giant leaps taken by its predecessors. Judged solely on its own merits, however, Amnesiac has several outstanding highlights. “Pyramid Song” delivers bright and lovely atmospherics, “You and Whose Army?” starts slowly but eventually surges with a symphonic power, “Knives Out” is quite simply one of the band’s most beautiful songs yet, and “Dollars & Cents” contains striking multi-tracked vocals from Yorke. Elsewhere, however, the band delivers too many dreamy mood pieces that work best as background music, and abstract (not to mention murky) electronica experiments. The fact that the admittedly gorgeous “Morning Bell” is reprised from Kid A suggests that new ideas were harder to come by on this album, a point that’s further reinforced by “Hunting Bears,” an also not-quite-necessary instrumental interlude. All of which makes me think that, much like U2 just did, perhaps its time for Radiohead to deliver a back to basics guitar-based album. For, despite its often fascinating layers of electronic sound, which even diehard fans will need to listen to several times in order to fully appreciate, I can’t get past the feeling that Amnesiac is but a placeholder release before the band’s next brilliant reinvention.

I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings (Capitol ’01) Rating: A-
Radiohead are a rare current band who have never made an album that's too long, and I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings keeps that streak intact. Actually, this live album is too short, especially given how good it is. Concentrating exclusively on Kid A and Amnesiac tracks and adding one somber new song ("True Love Waits," a solo acoustic showcase for Thom Yorke that's successful despite how absurdly elevated in the mix his vocals are), I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings is a reinvention of sorts (see previous review). I mean, who suspected that Radiohead would be able to recreate these strangely atmospheric studio concoctions, let alone that they would rock so convincingly? Accentuating their underrated rhythm section (Colin Greenwood, bass; Phil Selway, drums), the band's fierce playing and tremendous energy propels "The National Anthem," "I Might Be Wrong," and "Idioteque," whose stripped down arrangements arguably improve upon the originals (though I miss the horns on "The National Anthem"). Sure, yet another version of "Morning Bell" is really pushing it (excellent though this version is), and I'd also argue that "Everything In It's Right Place" is overly expansive and that "Dollars And Cents" is ordinary. Still, the plusses here easily overwhelm the negatives, and this album bodes well for a return to the guitar-based rock I hope they'll unleash on their next studio album. Yet the album's clear (and most surprising) high point is their complete transformation of "Like Spinning Plates," which they turn into a shattering piano ballad. Clearly this band can do anything.

Hail To The Thief (Capitol ’03) Rating: A-
After delivering two albums of experimental electronic music, 2001’s more rocking live album I Might Be Wrong had many fans anticipating a return to the guitar-based style of earlier masterpieces such as The Bends and OK Computer. Sure enough, when the rip-roaring guitars kick in at 1:54 of the first song, “2 + 2 = 5,” it’s certainly a thrill. However, it’s a misleading one, as that’s the hardest hitting track on an album that rocks out only intermittently. Still, guitars are much more prominent than on the band’s two previous studio albums, yet the electronics are again out in full force as well, though they complement rather than dominate the music, adding subtle sonic details that only reveal hidden pleasures after repeat listens. Recorded quickly over a two-week span, Hail To The Thief has a warmer, more off-the-cuff feel than recent Radiohead, and again the band revels in atmosphere above all else, though it should be noted that there’s also an increased percussive presence and use of piano. As usual, Thom Yorke’s at times manipulated vocals are a highlight, as are his lyrics, which remain intriguing (samples: “just because you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there,” “your voice is rapping on my window sill”) and ever open to interpretation. Clearly they’re political (the album’s title may or may not be a reference to George Bush allegedly “stealing” the 2000 election), but usually in a vague and mysterious way, while Yorke’s recent fatherhood has also influenced his outlook, making him even more worried about his (and our) uncertain future. In addition to the aforementioned first song, “Sit Down. Stand Up” is another highlight, in particular due to its spectacular finish, as Phil Selway unleashes a psychotic drum assault as electronic noises seemingly surround him. “Sail To The Moon” is a beautifully atmospheric ballad, as are “Where I End And You Begin” and “Scatterbrain,” while “Go To Sleep” unleashes the type of loud guitar outbursts that have long lain dormant in Radiohead’s arsenal. Alas, with a running time that approaches an hour, Hail To The Thief is by far Radiohead’s longest album, and it would have benefited from the stricter editing standards that we’ve come to expect from them. The album sags somewhat in it’s mid-section, as “We Suck Young Blood” is a boring piano dirge and “The Gloaming” a fairly anonymous electro-filler. Of course, Radiohead being the best band in the business today, things take an upturn on “There There,” while the short “I Will,” though not an album highlight, sees Yorke writing in a refreshingly straightforward style (“I won’t let this happen to my children”). That directness continues on the musically brighter but lyrically venomous “A Punchup At A Wedding,” while “Myxomatosis” delivers one of the band’s most chaotic melodies. Still, I love the song’s atmosphere, and “A Wolf At The Door” ends an impressive album on a high, with stream of consciousness vocals and a typically atmospheric (there’s that word again) chorus. Then again, the word “chorus” may be pushing it, for once again Radiohead hasn’t delivered much in the way of “radio friendly” songs. No, this is challenging music, but it’s not too challenging; it takes awhile but these songs will eventually seep into your subconscious and leave a lasting impression. Still, this is the first Radiohead album in some time (if we count Kid A and Amnesiac as a single album given that they both came from the same sessions) that doesn’t really push any boundaries. Neither a return to their earlier guitar-based rock or a continuation of their recent past, Hail To The Thief at times feels like a compromise, and though it will likely satisfy fans of both camps, chances are that it will bowl over neither.

In Rainbows (Self-released download ’07) Rating: A
Of course, you can’t talk about this album without talking about how it was delivered. We’ll get to the actual contents of the album in a minute, because even if this album wasn’t superlative (it is), it would still be an important release because of the way it provided a much-needed punch to the gut of a disgustingly arrogant and out of touch industry. Working as free agents and cutting out the middleman, the band made the album available as a download on their own Web site, and they made the album affordable (hell, free if you so wished), all while still presumably making a heady profit. After all, no record company marketing department can possibly buy you that kind of publicity and goodwill from the fans, who were also rewarded with arguably the best album of the year. Simply put, this is the best Radiohead album since Kid A, because even though it doesn’t exactly offer anything new, it corrects the main flaw of Hail To The Thief merely by presenting only 10 songs, all of which are extremely strong and several of which (“Nude,” “Reckoner,” “House Of Cards”) are uncommonly lovely. Sure, I wish that the band would’ve delivered a few more guitar-driven rockers along the lines of “Bodysnatchers,” on which they let Jonny Greenwood loose for a change, but complaining about a lack of variety is nitpicking given the high overall quality of these songs. You could also argue that the album is too “normal” by the band’s adventurous standards, but how can anyone possibly complain about a song as awe-inspiringly perfect as “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi,” a serious candidate for best Radiohead song ever? Without getting into individual song details, which is fitting since In Rainbows works best as a singularly cohesive album statement, I’ll note that this is arguably the band’s most warmly inviting, jazziest, and most easily accessible album ever, and that there are plenty of guitars (often acoustic) on the album for those of you who had grown tired of the band’s embrace of chilly electronics (and fear not fans of the latter because there are plenty of swirling keyboard atmospherics as well). Listen to “15 Step” or “Jigsaw Falling Into Place” and tell me that Phil Selway isn’t a first-class drummer with a deft touch, and on “All I Need” singer Thom Yorke needs only the sparsest of musical settings to shine. True, aside from the imaginative PR garnered by this release, you could argue that this is "just another Radiohead album" at this point, but even so it serves as another superb reminder that when it comes to modern music, there’s Radiohead…and then there’s the rest.

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