by Tom Johnson
Just a week ago, we were expecting nothing more than the usual – just distant wondering of when there might be a new Radiohead. It had to be coming soon, right? It’s been more than three years since they surprised us with In Rainbows and then only cryptic messages about embracing new formats. Were we to ever see a Radiohead album again? And then, Monday, came the message, “thank you for waiting.” And it started all over again.
How can they do this? It doesn’t seem possible any one band can manage to capture so much attention for doing so relatively little. When other acts are out forcing single after single down our throats through any means necessary – radio, TV shows, movies, commercials – Radiohead is content to simply sit back and work out what move they make next. They’ve cultivated a rabid fanbase, that’s for sure, but that can’t account for all of this. Everyone cares, but everyone isn’t rabid.
The news hits of The King Of Limbs and suddenly it is everywhere and everyone is involved. It is more than just music at this point, it’s a cultural phenomenon. It is, dare I say it, the closest thing we have to The Beatles today. Before you stone me, hear me out. What other act out there today is as nearly universally enjoyed and respected as Radiohead? What other act out there crosses seemingly all political, societal, and musical boundaries to embrace fans of music from all genres? Most importantly, what other act makes music such a communal experience?
Some may want to answer “U2! U2 can do all that,” but I’ll ask you this: when was the last time they did? The fact that they can, or did at one time, isn’t enough. U2’s problem is that they’re mired in music industry bindings that they are, for some reason, afraid to throw off, as if they won’t be able to survive without them. It’s curious though. Can you imagine if U2 were going the Radiohead route? No major label, calling all the shots themselves, doing as they please, when they please? Maybe we’d never get another “Get On Your Boots” again.
Even at that, I’m not sure U2 would fully get it enough to make it fun like Radiohead has. That’s right. Radiohead has made the “new album experience” fun again. Remember when album releases were events? Some of us do. Some of us remember when a particularly big release would warrant record stores staying open until midnight. Lines of anxious fans would gather, everyone excited and happy, and they would hang out listening to the big new release in the parking lot. Yeah, that doesn’t happen anymore. iTunes: download. Torrent: download. Website: download. Amazon: one-click purchase. Or, maybe, trudge off to the record store to see if maybe they happen to have a copy. New music has lost the glamour it used to have.
Radiohead gleaned the beauty of the old album release experience and repackaged it for today’s busy people: if they won’t stay up late, maybe they can be surprised back into enjoying the experience. And that’s just what they’ve done, two times in a row.
With Radiohead calling the shots, they can do it how they please, and so Monday morning’s contact from them revealed two methods of buying the album – the “newspaper” version with a mind-boggling 625 pieces of small art along with two 10″ slabs of vinyl and a CD, or the download option of mp3 or wav files (and, of course, you get to download the album now.) All or nothing, basically. I guess that sums up today’s music fan. You either want the big, beautiful package, or you just want the bare minimum. The news of a CD release in late March was completely absent at first, trickling out only later. It seems like a reluctant concession rather than simply another option.
And what of that music, which Radiohead surprised us with once again by freeing the downloads a day early? It’s not In Rainbows II, that’s for sure. If anything, it’s as much of a reaction to In Rainbows as Kid A was to OK Computer. Some will embrace its dark, quiet core much more quickly, others may struggle with it. In Rainbows had a major advantage in being one of Radiohead’s more accessible albums, and The King Of Limbs unfortunately does not share that same quality.
I say “unfortunately” there as if this is a bad album, and that is plainly not the case. In fact, it’s a beautiful piece of work that deserves to be heard as a whole. This is what Radiohead does so well: create experiences. To listen to each song one by one feels wrong, like viewing clips of a movie rather than the whole thing. You miss the whole point.
Not only does it deserve to be heard as a whole, it may need to be heard multiple times to really click. As a whole, the album is dark and foreboding, with only glints of light peeking through here and there. Radiohead does make a specialty of this, but this album is particularly dark. Given some time, however, the album leads listeners down a beautiful, emotional path.
Released as a video at the same time as the surprise early downloads, and presumably the album’s first single, “Lotus Flower” seems entirely too downtrodden to appeal to most. But nestled deep in the album between the frantic, paranoid electronics of “Feral” and sleepy, piano-heavy “Codex,” it works beautifully. Context means everything sometimes, and Radiohead understands this. It’s part of the experience.
Getting immediately to the point, “Bloom” starting the album with spastic drum loops backing airy, dreamy vocals. “Morning Mr. Magpie” and “Little By Little” are the closest we get to the kind of guitar-oriented rock many tune into Radiohead for, but each is still twisted, “Magpie” by its jerky, stunted rhythm, “Little” by its muted, laid-back guitar leads.
It’s during the second half of the album that things take a particularly interesting turn. As if a reaction to the harder-edge of the first half of the album, things progressively grow darker, quieter, ultimately leading to “Give Up the Ghost.” It’s as if the band has lead us from the relatively more hectic earlier events of the album to this, like taking a long walk from the city and winding up in a clearing deep in the woods. You’re lost, but it’s beautiful. It’s maybe a little jarring then that relatively upbeat “Separator” follows this, and closes out the album on a strangely positive note (despite its lyrics.)
Although it’s only, in today’s world of ridiculously long albums, a mere 37 minutes, at its end, The King Of Limbs finishes as though an experience, like a film would, wrapped up and concluded, even though we may not have known a story was taking place. This seems to
clash with remarks from the band about abandoning the album format – and all this talk that no one cares about albums anymore anyway. But if anyone can keep the format alive, it’s Radiohead, and their fans keep listening. They know their music is suited best to being taken as a whole rather than single serving pieces. They proved this long ago – The Bends is an album of songs, and OK Computer is an album. They’ve opted to go that route since, and we’re all the better for it.
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