Radiohead – Kid A: The spoiled brat who whines until he gets his way.

Artist: Radiohead
Album: Kid A
Year: 2000
Grade: B+

In Brief: This isn’t happening. This is really happening! Let me hear both sides – what was that you tried to say?

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I have a confession to make. I’m starting to like Radiohead. Oddly enough, it wasn’t OK Computer or The Bends that got me hooked, either. Despite the insane amounts of fun I had criticizing their latest release Amnesiac, several of the songs slowly drew me in as I listened repeatedly, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. As I recently updated that review to mention, I finally went out and bought the album.

So what about Kid A, the experimental, apocalyptic, trying-so-darn-hard-to-not-be-typical-rock album that started this whole mess? Strangely enough, I’m finding that Kid A, the cold and paranoid predecessor to Amnesiac (all of the tracks for both albums were recorded in the same studio sessions), makes a lot more sense now that I’m used to its twin brother. Maybe this wasn’t meant to happen in reverse, but I think I’m not alone when I state that the transition between OK Computer and Kid A is a little easier to handle with Amnesiac in the middle. When Kid A was released late last year, its mostly barren soundscapes, dominated by keyboards and electronic effects, seemed like a purposeful attempt to alienate fans of the band who had become all but gods after the wild success of the technology-fearing concept album OK Computer. Looking back, the progression is really quite logical. Man fears a world dominated by technology in OK Computer, and in this new pair of albums, man is forced to deal with that world. Though this concept, and the music created to convey it, is a bit disturbing at first, I could think of no more appropriate band than Radiohead to pull it off.

Now, before I delve into the weird inner workings of this CD, I should make it clear that though I am barely starting to “get it” with Radiohead, this doesn’t make me one of their rabid fans. As I stated when I first reviewed Amnesiac, I find that I enjoy studying Radiohead’s new albums more than I enjoy casually listening to them. Perhaps that’s the way it was intended to be, and if any band can count on their fans to delve deeply into every possible hint of meaning in every word (or every synthesized noise that might be a word), it’s Radiohead. After getting a first taste of the band on Saturday Night Live last fall (alright, I had heard “Creep” on the radio several years earlier, but does that really count?), I downloaded the tracks from Kid A just to satisfy my curiosity, decided I wasn’t missing much, and deleted them. I must have repeated this process three or four times, continually giving the album another chance and then tossing it out. Finally, after purchasing Amnesiac, and noticing hints at some of the Kid A songs in the CD booklet (which contains no lyrics other than the occasional line that stands out of the pictorial gibberish), I decided to give this Kid a final chance to be good before sending him to bed without his supper.

INDIVIDUAL TRACKS:

1. Everything in Its Right Place
Upon starting the CD, the listener is immediately greeted with cold, calculated, and repetitive keyboard tones. No guitars, no drums to keep the beat – very little of anything other than Thom Yorke‘s patented whine repeating three or four lines over and over throughout the song, as if they were strings tied around his finger to make him remember something – “Yesterday I woke up sucking on a lemon… There are two colors in my head…” – perhaps a few catchy lines that he wanted to use in a song? Despite the minimal nature of this track – which is incredibly off-putting at first when compared to past opening anthems like “Planet Telex” and “Airbag”, Thom’s seeming attempt to create a mnemonic device succeeds in getting the listener to remember his few scattered thoughts. Something about the recording technique used here is weird – I can’t place my finger on it, but I swear that when I have this thing playing in my headphones, it feels like the chords are setting up a magnetic field right through my head. Guitarist Jonny Greenwood, for lack of anything better to do during the recording of this track, has sampled Thom’s voice, which gets played over and over in unintelligible, distorted patterns underneath the real Thom. He appears to be singing “Kid A” over and over at the beginning, but I’m not 100% sure of that. It’s actually a pretty cool track, despite its seemingly inappropriate placement at the beginning of the album.

2. Kid A
Here we meet the cunning little brat after which the album was named. Reportedly, “Kid A” is the name of the first artificial-intelligence human created in some sci-fi story. (I’m only pulling up second-hand info from countless other reviews and ramblings about the band, so forgive me if I’m not a fount of knowledge on all things Radiohead.) Keeping the quiet and sterile feel of the first track, this tune fades in with chiming keyboard sounds, like a lullaby playing in a baby’s crib. Johnny Greenwood (who is actually credited with quite a few instruments other than just the guitar) fills in the sonic gaps with some vibey keyboard lines, while drummer Phil Selway keeps a light but playful beat – this tune is fuller and even prettier than it first seems. As for Thom – I can’t tell if the vocals are his, or if they’re computer generated like they were in the spoken track “Fitter Happier” from OK Computer. The voice that chimes in – perhaps the voice of this demented little kid – is incredibly warped and difficult to understand. A quick glance at the cheat sheet provided by followmearound.com provides the answers – “We’ve got heads on sticks, you got ventriloquists.” Alright, well, maybe there are no answers to be found. The kiddo makes a reference to the Pied Piper at the end of the song, which I suppose fits with Radiohead’s general attitude of dissension and non-conformity. But don’t ask me to interpret much more than that. I’ll get a headache.

3. The National Anthem
Wow, a real guitar-like instrument! Be still, my beating heart! The grooving bass line provided by Colin Greenwood that opens this song is pretty darn cool – or at least, Radiohead hopes we’ll think it’s cool, because we have to put up with it for pretty much the whole song. This seems to be more of a standard rock tune, at least in comparison to the first two tracks, and Selway’s drums sound a little more real here, more like that limp, half-there percussion style that’s become a trademark of many Radiohead songs. Again, the lyrics are minimal (get used to it), with Thom crying out like a madman about how confused everyone is. His voice sounds like he’s getting a bit of feedback from the microphone – it’s as if the band were playing at a concert and they hadn’t bothered to do a sound check. Thom sounds more and more paranoid as things escalate, and midway through the song, an army of brass instruments joins in. While brass instruments would add a jovial, jazzy feel to most rock songs, here they just help the paranoia to escalate. It’s alternately amusing and grating on the ears. I have to say, they’ve done a pretty good job of mimicking the sound of a marching band getting flattened by a steamroller – it reminds me a lot of the ending of No Doubt‘s Tragic Kingdom, minus the frenetic increasing tempo. Definitely a standout track – this was the one I saw them perform on SNL that piqued my curiosity.

4. How to Disappear Completely
Alright old-school Radiohead fans, you can breathe easy here. Take in the acoustic guitar chords like a breath of fresh air, sit in your bedrooms in the dark with the stereo on full blast, and contemplate your angst-ridden lives while these guys gently flow through what might just be the most sane track on this record. There should be “no surprises” in the fact that many fans are touting this as one of Radiohead’s best songs ever – it gives us a pretty clear glimpse into the crazy life of the band after the wild success of OK Computer. If “The National Anthem” signified all hell breaking loose at a concert, then this song is the aftermath, depicting Thom’s detachment from reality that became a pretty good method of avoiding the media insanity that followed the band around for so many years (and still does – Radiohead could record the worst album in rock history and it wouldn’t shake them off). Perhaps I was so thrown off by the rest of the album the first few times through that I simply failed to notice just how beautiful this song is – its gentle guitar strokes and crescendoing strings add to the longing for peace and clarity that the band must feel on some of their busier days. Thom’s sleepy assertion that “I’m not here, this isn’t happening” gives me an interesting mental picture of a kid with his fingers stuck in his ears, refusing to listen to anything his parents have to say. I told you this was one spoiled brat of a rock album…

5. Treefingers
If the previous track was one of the most widely appreciated Radiohead songs ever, this is probably one of the tracks that gets them the most flak. Radiohead has managed to record a completely formless, beatless, directionless instrumental here – a series of drawn-out, bell-like keyboard tones, that despite its pretentiousness, manages to be quite soothing. I feel like I should be in a monastery meditating somewhere when this track begins. If the rest of the album were more traditional “rock” and not as keyboard based, this would stick out like a sore thumb, and in some ways, it still interrupts the odd flow of the album. But there’s still that compelling element that I can’t quite explain. Sigh.

6. Optimistic
Eureka! I have found it! An actual single! Even though the band didn’t intend to release any singles from this project (or OK Computer, for that matter), this tune managed to break free and get some radio play, mostly due to a fuller lyrical presence and an actual verse-chorus structure (shudder). It almost feels ridiculously out of place, much like “Electioneering” did on OK Computer, and I seriously hope no one bought the album on the basis of this track. (As much as this album was talked about for its weirdness, I think it’s a pretty safe bet that most buyers had some idea of what they were getting themselves into). The guitars, Thom’s sweet “ooh”s in the beginning, and the almost tribal drumming swirl into a primordial stew that takes us back in time to the days when Radiohead actually made sense to the masses, and with such a shift away from the technological wasteland that forms the rest of the album, it seems fitting that the lyrics seem to describe the harsh reality of natural selection – every living thing for themselves. Thom seems to want to break that pattern as he cries “I’d really like to help you, man”, and perhaps he is bemoaning the current state of supposedly “advanced” humanity, but perhaps he’s just mumbling. Several other phrases stand out – “This one just came out of the swamp”, “Living on an animal farm” (George Orwell reference?), and the chorus, “You can try the best you can/Yeah, the best you can is good enough.” Do we try to help each other out, or are we content just getting by? This is the most clarity I’ve found in the CD so far, though as the track bends and twists into a loose jazz jam towards the end, confusion and paranoia begins to settle back in. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

7. In Limbo
This track definitely lives up to its name – it sits in between two standout songs, bridging the gap between them rather awkwardly. Whoever came up with the idea of having the drums beat out one pattern while the guitars consistently followed a different rhythm was brilliant, and they should be shot. It’s disorienting to the point where I nearly get a headache trying to differentiate between the two rhythms. Even when Thom joins in singing, there’s little hope for finding much of an endearing tune. It’s like everybody’s playing a different song – quite irritating. While this bizarre accompaniment helps to give meaning to lyrics such as “I’m lost at sea, don’t bother me” and “You’re living in a fantasy world”, I mostly find myself glad when the whole thing slowly self-destructs about three minutes in, transitioning nicely into the next track as its energy sputters and dies out. (It’s interesting to note the line “Trap doors that open, I spiral down” – it seems to hint at the similarly annoying track “Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors” from Amnesiac, that simply goes on about different types of doors. These references back and forth between the songs and the lyric booklets are what keep me coming back.)

8. Idioteque
Cool! Being a fan of many electronic rock bands, my face can’t help but light up with a big smile as the strong techno beat introduces this song. Radiohead did a good job of picking the right songs to play on SNL – this one translated great live, and it’s nothing to scoff at here, even if its programmed nature may further annoy some of the band’s fans. Listening to Thom’s high-pitched, repetitive rant on what seems to be the apocalypse is wonderfully captivating, if a bit frightening – he picks just the right lines to repeat: “Ice age coming”, “Women and children first”, “Take the money and run”, etc. Through it all, he sounds completely freaked out at the realization that “This is really happening”. Think back to “How to Disappear Completely”, where he calmly assured us that nothing was really happening. That peace is all but gone now. I love the harmonic feedback that punctuates this song, and even if the song’s midsection seems to wander aimlessly on little other than the beat (a problem that plagues a few of the other songs on this album and Amnesiac), I still love it. I can’t shake that amusing image of Thom practically eating the microphone when performing this song live, shaking his head around as if he were trying to rid himself of what few marbles he had left up in there. I still wonder about the title – perhaps it refers to a group of dancing idiots, which I guess is what you’d have if everyone knew the world was about to end.

9. Morning Bell
After “Idioteque” suddenly falls apart, a gentler electronic song takes its place, rolling along gently on a precise 10/8 beat – I always appreciate when a band can maintain a more complex rhythm. I criticized the “remix” of this song on Amnesiac for not being nearly as interesting (even though it was easier to understand and had an overall brighter tone), and I’m sticking with my guns – this version is far more interesting. The lyrics in both versions are pretty much the same, and pretty much confusing (care to explain what “Sleepy jack the fire drill” means?) Then there’s the infamous line “Cut the kids in half”, which, as I mentioned before, makes me think that the song is about dealing with divorce. Not knowing Thom’s marital history, I can’t really comment. If you listen carefully to the vocal meandering at the end of the song, you’ll pick up someone saying “Walking, walking, walking” over and over in the background, which isn’t found on the shorter Amnesiac version.

10. Motion Picture Soundtrack
I hate to say it, but what momentum the last few songs built gets completely killed off on the final track. They decided to record this one independently of any guitars or drums, and it doesn’t even have much rhythm to speak of. It’s just another slow, sleepy whine from Thom, backed up by a slightly tired-sounding organ or accordion or something, and a sea of harps that chillingly punctuate the lyric “I will see you in the next life.” It almost seems like Thom is addressing his fans and telling them he wants to be left alone, and I understand the whole theme of him being tired, but that just doesn’t seem very nice. I guess I shouldn’t be expecting warm, fuzzy emotions from Radiohead, and anyway, that’s not my real complaint about this song. I just don’t enjoy it all that much, compared to the complexity and the beat of some of the other tracks. The first few times through, I had to agree with Thom, though, as he mumbled, “I think you’re crazy”. This CD would be enough to drive a person to the brink of insanity!

Of course, there’s the obligatory “hidden track” after a short period of silence, but in this case, it’s just a quick release of bright keyboard tones and angelic voices, further emphasizing the “died-and-gone-to-heaven” feel of “Motion Picture Soundtrack”. There’s more silence after that, as if to lead you into thinking there’s more, and then the CD ends. I guess they thought that was funny. British humor strikes again.

In the end, I’ve found that I enjoy Kid A, even if I have to be in a very particular mood to listen to it (even more so than the intriguing but uneven Amnesiac). Sometimes I wished everything tied together more neatly in both albums – I can reach out and grasp a theme, only to lose it again later when a more fitting theme emerges. I guess that’s what you get when you record two albums at once and split the tracks up rather arbitrarily (though I will say that many of the Kid A songs transition into each other quite nicely). I wish I could have given this album the absurd treatment that I gave Amnesiac when I reviewed it, but there’s a difference now: I actually enjoy a lot of Radiohead’s work. I won’t label everything they do pure genius, and I certainly won’t become a rabid fan, but I’ll probably “follow them around” whenever they throw new music out, just because it’s interesting to see where they go next, and as a music reviewer, how could I possibly ignore a much-talked about album like this one? Even if it’s incredibly obnoxious in its refusal to be normal, it’s a good kid on the inside.

BAND MEMBERS:
Thom Yorke: Vocals, guitar, piano
Johnny Greenwood: Guitar, piano, organ, xylophone, and everything else…
Colin Greenwood: Bass
Ed O’Brien: Guitar, vocals
Phil Selway: Drums

WEBSITE:
http://www.followmearound.com

Originally published on Epinions.com.