In limbo
Radiohead's Kid A
by Matt Ashare
Most people remember Pablo Honey, Radiohead's 1993 Capitol
debut, for the single that made the Oxford quintet an alterna-rock radio staple
here in the US -- "Creep." Radiohead, it would seem, are looking to forget that
song, perhaps because it reminds them of a time when they were trying to please
radio program-
mers, or maybe because they got sick of being referred to as "that `Creep'
band." But there are other songs on that first album that Radiohead have also
worked hard to put behind them, tracks like "Anyone Can Play Guitar," a simple,
anthemic rallying cry that echoed with the ideals of the punk revolt that had
rocked the British music establishment a decade and a half earlier.
In the years since Pablo Honey, Radiohead have grown more insular, with
music that's more complex and lyrics that are increasingly impenetrable. In the
process they've been celebrated as one of the last of a dying breed -- a true
album-oriented rock band, willing to experiment with tone, texture, and
technology in order to create grand artistic statements. That they've always
included at least one radio-friendly single hasn't hurt -- though as anyone who
saw the artsy tour documentary the band put out last year can attest, those
singles haven't improved the mood of this remarkably dour and serious band.
The new and eagerly awaited Radiohead album, Kid A (Capitol), opens with
singer Thom Yorke uttering disjointed prose over an ominous backdrop of padded
synth chords and electronic interference. It's not something you'd expect to
hear on the radio, and it's not likely to whet the average listener's appetite
for the rock to come. Of course, it doesn't it have to be -- it's exactly the
kind of indulgence that an established band like Radiohead can be said to have
earned. It says to the listener, "Prepare to meet this band halfway, to work a
little -- we've earned the right to be difficult." But the second track, the
title track, doesn't show any sign of improvement: there's more padded synth
chords plus a vocal so heavily treated that it's almost impossible to make out
what Yorke is saying, and though drums and maybe a little bass enter the
picture, the beat is intermittent at best and there isn't anything resembling a
hook or a groove to be found in the wash of ambient electronics.
Bass and drums come to the fore in the third track, "The National Anthem," as
do Yorke's vocals. It seems we've gotten past the gradual introduction and are
now reaching the heart of the album. And though Yorke is still speaking in
riddles, you can make out actual words. But the groove and the bass line never
change, and the guitars hold off for yet another one of Kid A's 10
tunes. Instead, a horn section takes over, and in Yorke's absence we're treated
to a couple of minutes of avant sax soloing. By now it's clear that Radiohead
are intent on raising the bar of inaccessibility, that Kid A will not be
accused of pandering to any sort of lowest common denominator.
The first recognizable guitar surfaces on track four, "How To Disappear
Completely," though only in the form of a few strummed acoustic chords that
Yorke could easily handle himself, and you have to wonder what the hell
happened to Johnny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien. By the end of the fifth track, an
ambient instrumental wash titled "Treefingers," it's hard not to wonder what
the hell ever happened to Radiohead, that band who proclaimed that anyone could
play guitar and then went on to push the boundaries of guitar rock (much as U2
did with Achtung Baby!) on The Bends and OK
Computer. Have they completely disappeared?
Well, perhaps not completely. Track six, "Optimistic," is something of a return
to form. Greenwood and O'Brien are back on guitar, and there's bass and drums
and vocals with lyrics like "You can try the best you can/You can try the best
you can/The best you can is good enough." There's even a hook of sorts built
around a fleeting minor-key melody. The trend continues with "In Limbo,"
perhaps the most accurately titled track on the album. "I've lost my way,"
Yorke sings over a fragile cascade of arpeggiated guitar chords. But that's
about as good as Kid A gets -- anyone who wants to hear Yorke sing a
real song is hereby directed to the forthcoming PJ Harvey CD, Stories from
the City, Stories from the Sea (Island), on which she puts Yorke's voice to
good use in "The Mess We're In."
Where does this leave Radiohead? Well, that will be up to the band's not
inconsiderable fan base. Yorke and his pals -- who've challenged their audience
not just with the music on Kid A but also with the "lyric sheet," which
is cleverly hidden behind the jewel case's spindle insert -- have built up a
certain amount of loyalty over the years by doing just that: challenging their
audience. But the rewards here are few and far between. Some will view this as
a bold move and spend hours reading into the nearly blank spaces on Kid
A. Others will simply hope for better luck next time. And I can't say I
blame them.