Author: Sam Dalsheimer
Radiohead’s breakthrough albums “OK Computer” and “Kid A” were tinged with a self-serious melancholy. Inherent in those albums was a sense that maybe technology was not a friend, in their employment of electronics to make unsettling sonic landscapes. After the release of 2007’s “In Rainbows,” listeners heard a slightly more optimistic and organic Radiohead — the band even got sensual on songs like “House of Cards.” Radiohead made their newest effort, “The King of Limbs,” available for download on Feb. 18. The album holds onto the naturalized “live” production of “In Rainbows” while being graced with a fair amount of the electronic experimentation of previous efforts. However, Radiohead is more or less done “experimenting,” so the digital musical touches are much more at ease. Most surprisingly, the album delivers three clear acts in only eight brief songs.
“Bloom” opens the first act with a paranoid piano loop that is instantly deconstructed into a pulsing monotone. A world-beat rhythm section drops in shortly thereafter. The vibe is claustrophobic before lead singer Thom Yorke’s sweeping vocals and oceanic lyrics increase the scope of the song. This blending of small and large musical elements is the mark of “The King of Limbs” and the first three tracks in particular. The layering of clean, frenetically plucked guitars in “Morning Mr. Magpie,” coupled with Phil Selway’s precise drumming, oddly resembles elements of the glitchy dance music that Yorke admires. It serves as proof that Radiohead has the ability to make a densely rhythmic, borderline-dance track without digital aid.
“Little by Little” is arguably the darkest song musically with its crawling bass, but it also reflects the newfound sexy-Radiohead in the line “I’m such a tease and you’re such a flirt.”
Both the instrumental “Feral” and its catchier successor “Lotus Flower” could be heard in the second act as odes to Flying Lotus and other electronic trailblazers. Both are neatly sandwiched between the six other tracks, serving as a confusing electronic centerpiece. It is hard to dissect these tracks. They come off as examples of Radiohead at their most self-indulgent. Then again, Radiohead has always been a group of musicians crafting songs that they themselves enjoy.
The third act begins with “Codex,” a plodding piano ballad that is undeniably pretty, if not slightly boring. The nature meets the machine again, in the lightly distorted birdsongs that open “Give Up the Ghost.” This penultimate track is the most beguiling moment on the album. With such a mortal title, the song permeates with optimism via resignation. There is a reassurance that, despite all that is wrong in the world, life will persist, and it is easily one of the loveliest songs in Radiohead’s catalogue.
The experience culminates with the sensual “Separator.” A funky Selway breakbeat and simple bass notes carry a lilting vocal melody. Halfway through the song, guitars begin playing slinky major-key licks, transforming the song into the sexiest Radiohead’s ever recorded (after “The Amazing Sounds of Orgy”). You can’t help but feel good when it is all over.
It is satisfying to hear Radiohead make music with such humanistic positivity. “The King of Limbs” is a brief, beautiful confluence of computerized perfectionism and human error. The Radiohead that was fearful of the new millennium has made peace with progress and the technologies they distrusted. Ultimately the album is Radiohead as Radiohead, standing as a curt, confident reminder that no one really does pop like these guys do.
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