The Cavern
Rock & Words
KID A (Radiohead, 2000)
Artist: Radiohead (B)
Recording Dates: Jan ’99 – Apr ‘00
Release Date: Oct 02, 2000. UK
Record Label: Parlophone / Capitol
Producer: Nigel Godrich & Radiohead
Rating: 10 (MUST HAVE)
Era: (Post)-alternative III: The Dispersion (2000-???)
Subgenre: Alternative
Best Song: How to Disappear Completely or National Anthem
Tracklist: 1) Everything In Its Right Place; 2) Kid A; 3) The National Anthem; 4) How to Disappear Completely; 5) Treefingers; 6) Optimistic; 7) In Limbo; 8) Idioteque; 9) Morning Bell; 10) Motion Picture Soundtrack.
How to deal with Kid A? Personally, I think it was one of the happiest accidents in history. They say it was the strangest, riskiest, and most difficult album to digest to debut at number 1. Let's be frank, debuting at number one wasn't Kid A's doing; it was OK Computer's. Throughout history, there are albums that become massive hits and generate enormous expectations for the band's next work. Examples include Dark Side of the Moon's Wish You Were Here, Led Zeppelin IV's Houses of the Holly, and A Night at the Opera's A Day at the Races, among others. This was the same case. Kid A was the most anticipated album and had generated the most hype since Nirvana's In Utero. The world expected Radiohead to be the band that would rescue rock, the group that would take it to new heights, and couldn't wait another second to hear the masterpiece the Oxford band would deliver. So it debuted at the top and sold millions of copies in the first few weeks, just as expected. I remember standing in line to buy it. I think it's the only album I've ever stood in line for.
What happened next was basically a global phenomenon: total disillusionment, wide-eyed, jaws slightly askew, a WTF face, and the resulting disdain. The album is utterly abstract; the guitars are barely noticeable, dominated by arrangements, textured sound, and electronic experimentation. The lyrics are brutally minimalist, and it's essentially the antithesis of OK Computer. It's a difficult work to digest. I frankly think the world wasn't ready for Kid A in 2000. Many of us put it away without understanding what had happened to the great promise of rock. The media savaged it. Later, some idiot decided it was a damn masterpiece, and it would take us a year or two, by which time we'd had more time to digest Hail to the Thiefs, to give it another chance. To listen to it again, more calmly. To discover its secrets, to find that it was the perfect soundtrack for the transition to the new millennium… and to marvel at this work of art. Today, the same media outlets that crucified him and were disgusted when he was released are the ones that inevitably place him among the top 10, or some among the top 3 albums of the first decade of the millennium, and a couple, in the hypocritical first place.
That's why I say, its millions of copies sold was one of the happiest accidents in history, because it meant that those who were expecting a new "Creep" or at least a new "Karma Police" would abandon the album, at best, to simply level the uneven leg of the bed, and run off to praise Coldplay or the more commercial, cheesy, and preachy version of U2. Meanwhile, those who ended up giving it a second chance would discover the cutting edge of the millennium's sounds, and would end up discovering a good number of high-quality bands and albums that would have been impossible to give a chance to without Kid A, like Sigur Rós, Aphex Twin, or Kashmir. And it also allows us to see which supposed music media outlets are two-faced and hypocritical. Its number one spot was a fluke, but ultimately, it was well-deserved luck.
Anyway, I don't like double standards. I must admit that it took me about two years to really get into Kid A and appreciate it. Like many, or rather, like everyone, I was expecting a continuation of OK Computer. However, it took me a while to realize that an OK Computer 2 wouldn't make sense, and that if the band wanted to surpass themselves, Kid A was the only way to avoid repeating themselves and continue innovating. To move forward and not stagnate. Did they take a big risk? Yes; there are still people who can't stand Radiohead's sound after OK Computer. Kid A is a very difficult, very abstract album, with dominant electronic sounds, almost devoid of direct emotion (unlike OK Computer, where emotion is paramount), full of anguish, paranoia, alienation; it generates a certain claustrophobia, experimental bordering on the bizarre, at times repetitive and suffocating… At times it seems too inhuman, too impersonal and abstract, and that can be unsettling, but that's precisely its intention. Showing the alienated and soulless world of 2000, and by accident, became the perfect soundtrack for the S-11 attacks and the inhuman paraphernalia it unleashed.
Kid A emerged from the success of OK!, whose tour and subsequent fame left Radiohead severely dissatisfied, particularly Thom Yorke, who fell into a depression because, according to him, the world misunderstood the album's true meaning. After a creative block, the band entered the studio in early '99, basically terrified of what they had to do to surpass OK! The group had divided opinions about the path forward. On one hand, some wanted to pursue a more commercial direction, similar to The Bends, full of potential singles no longer than three minutes and formidable three-guitar arrangements. Ed O'Brien was among those pushing this idea, and let's face it, it's what we all hoped for. But it was a very easy option, and it was a step backward in the band's sound, something they had already tried and succeeded at. Moreover, the last thing they wanted was to remain in the spotlight. Thom wanted the opposite. Around that time, he was heavily involved in electronic music and had worked as a DJ, so he was fascinated by the idea of prioritizing rhythm over melody. In any case, Thom is the creative force behind the band, so he convinced the rest to do an experimental project, where the vocals would be just another instrument and not the leading figure, and where the other members would contribute to the album without their traditional instruments, stepping outside their comfort zones.
Radiohead went into the studio in Paris, once again with Nigel Godrich as producer, but they continued to experience a creative block. Thom's suggestions were more like drum machines than demos or skeletons. Then they went to Copenhagen. The problem was that basically everyone felt insecure. Ed would say, "It was scary. It's like, well... I'm a guitarist, and suddenly there was a song without guitar, or without drums, and I had to figure out how to contribute something."
At the end of the year, they moved to Oxford, and the ideas and sounds began to flow more easily. The others started to better understand Thom's vision, as well as the tools to achieve those sounds, like Pro Tools and Cubase. If you're going to make an electronic album, you need to understand how to do it. Basically, all the sounds on the album were processed through a computer. There isn't a single sound in its pure form.
By 2000, they already had six of the album's songs and were progressing more rapidly, swapping instruments. Thom played bass on "The National Anthem," for example; Jonny Greenwood learned to play the Ondium Martenot for several songs and composed the string arrangement for "How to Disappear Completely"; both of them led the horn section on "The National Anthem"; Colin experimented with electronic drums and sampled his own recordings to achieve more electronic and processed sounds; Ed transformed one of his guitar solos into the atmospheric "Treefingers." The band, which had started out uncertain and unenthusiastic about the idea, suddenly found its footing and became obsessed with the sound. Tons of songs began to flow, and they never stopped tinkering and experimenting with amplifiers, microphone filters, synthesizers, processing everything with computers, and changing effects over and over to see what sounded best. They ended up recording around 30 songs, but thankfully they took pity on them and refused a double album, which would have been brutally excessive. The selection of tracks and their order (which obsessed Yorke to no end) almost broke up the band, but they finally settled on 10 tracks and shelved the rest. Much of that material would make up Amnesiac, which is arguably a twin brother of Kid A, though slightly inferior.
The album was released in the midst of the Napster era, just as MP3s were radically transforming music distribution, dealing a tremendous blow to the traditional CD format. The band decided against releasing any singles, but at the same time, they were terrified by the immense pressure of having their album be THE successor to OK Computer. Radiohead began playing songs live during a European tour shortly before the release, and people recorded them, uploaded them to the internet, and thanks to Napster, the new songs leaked. At subsequent concerts, crowds were already chanting the new songs even before their official release, marking one of the first times this phenomenon had occurred. Far from being annoyed, the band was amazed and found a great ally in digital distribution. Therefore, it's no surprise that they released "These Are My Twisted Words" for free digitally in 2009, leading to rumors that their next LP in 2011 would be released in the same format. Take that, Metallica! The fact is that, despite the band's fears, the album debuted at number one in sales practically worldwide on October 2, 2000. Since it didn't have a single and was an album without commercial songs, the record label released short promotional videos called "blips," but the truth is they were really unnecessary given the hype surrounding the band thanks to OK. They could have done a 70-minute cover of "Revolution #9" and it still would have reached number one.
The album opens with “Everything In Its Right Place”, a dark and unsettling song that perfectly encapsulates the album's mood. The track features no guitars or drums. It's just Thom and an electric piano, along with 10 or 12 other Thoms playing in the background, making disjointed, staccato sounds that lend it an utterly bizarre aura. Around the 1:45 mark, a high-pitched voice emerges as the tempo increases, strongly reminiscent of the sounds of the Minions in the film “Despicable Me.” Then come reversed vocals, more and more Thoms with unintelligible sounds, creating an overwhelming wall of voices. The piano, meanwhile, was processed to add depth and echo. Initially, it sounds pleasant, but the repetition of notes in a dissonant harmony, coupled with the unusual time signature (not 4/4), becomes unsettling after a while. The lyrics are repetitive, basically three or four lines that repeat from beginning to end, notably “Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon,” which represents the face one makes while sucking on a lemon, reflecting Thom's feelings when composing the song, even during the grueling OK tour. The title ultimately emerged as things began to flow during the recording of Kid A. The few lines contrast sharply with the richer imagery of the previous album, and Thom would say that both the lyrics and the sounds (not just of this song but of the entire album) were influenced by Dadaism. The song ends with a certain chill. It's dark, it's minimalist, yet majestic and almost overwhelming.
“Kid A”, the title track, is even more difficult, more abstract and disjointed. At first, it gives a false sense of tenderness with its piano sound, like a xylophone or a music box, vaguely (very vaguely) reminiscent of “No Surprises.” But then another, more watery, echo-laden keyboard enters, shattering that happy sense of déjà vu and giving the whole thing a strange, tainted, nightmarish aura. Then comes the vocals, processed to an almost unintelligible level. You have to try to read them to understand them, or at least try to understand them, since even then it doesn't make much sense. This was one of the songs for which Thom wrote words or phrases on slips of paper, put them in a hat, and drew them out randomly—a Dadaist technique, too. The drums are also synthesized and choppy, suddenly following a rhythm, then disappearing and changing, as does the bass. Don't try to understand this song. Don't try to find beauty in it. It is pure abstraction.
The song segues into "The National Anthem", one of the album's gems, which was titled "Everyone" during the recording sessions (I have no idea why, haha). Thom played that simple yet fabulous bass line here, making the song flow more smoothly. The drums build slowly until they go berserk at the end, creating off-beats and sudden stops that intentionally throw the song off. The vocals sound impersonal, almost robotic, devoid of feeling, except in the impressive coda where rage and despair shine through in the screams. But it's true, the voice is just another instrument, not a leading figure. The colossal bass line never lets up; it's what drives and shapes the song. What stands out and creates that bizarre twist are the spectacular horn arrangements by Thom and Jonny. They're supposedly inspired by Charles Mingus's horn sections, chaotic, seemingly random jazz arrangements that enter at 2:40 with just two notes, yet create a spectacular effect. More and more trumpets are added to this initial riff, causing the song to collapse at 3:40, sustained only by the bass and a few timid trumpets, before it ignites again for an even more chaotic finale. In this song, Jonny also debuts the use of the Ondes Martenot. Apparently, they had conceived "The National Anthem" some time ago, but it seemed too strange to include on OK, yet too good to release as a B-side on one of the singles. Ultimately, its bizarre aura is a perfect fit for Kid A.
We continue on a grand scale with “How To Disappear Completely”, the best song in my opinion. It was composed during the '98 tour and was also considered as a B-side for a single, but they apparently didn't know how to record it; they hadn't yet begun their “real experimentation.” The song is beautiful, the closest thing to the most melancholic and human atmosphere on OK. Yorke remembers to give his voice expressiveness; the effects aren't so harsh, and he truly manages to move you with the emotion in which he sings “I'm not here, this is not happening,” a short but devastating line that I love. Jonny Greenwood also makes use of the Ondes Martenot, and here it's easier to perceive them thanks to that ethereal, elephantine sound at the 15-second mark. He himself was responsible for the beautiful string arrangement, taking advantage of the fact that he's the only one with musical and compositional training. The arrangements are perfect, subtle, and highlight the beauty and melancholy of the song and the ebb and flow created by the Martenot. Another new feature (at least for this album) is that there's actually a guitar! At the beginning, you hear a subtle guitar riff accompanied by a simple but effective bass line from Colin. It's the most "normal" song on the album, imbued with a deep melancholy and a moving majesty. It's worth listening to with headphones to perceive how the sound waves begin on the right side and end on the left.
Next comes “Treefingers”, an instrumental track that ostensibly features a synthesizer. In reality, it was a piece of an Ed O'Brien guitar solo that was digitally altered to give it that ambient, ghostly feel. The track is incredibly relaxing, a trip that always makes me think of a whale moving very slowly in the depths of the sea.
After this pause comes the tribal rhythm of “Optimistic”, one of the most complex tracks, where, amidst somber imagery of death and desolation, a glimmer of optimism emerges with “The best you can is good enough…”. The song itself is complex, with a gritty, rock-oriented guitar riff that drives the entire track. Ondes Martenot are present again, along with synthesized drums that occasionally join the percussion. Being the most rock-oriented song on the album, and with no singles released, this was the track radio stations typically used to promote the album. Despite having a more “live” feel and being the only one with the previous three-guitar lineup, it features many digitized details, guitar loops, electronic drums, and the synthesized waves create an ethereal, almost surreal, effect. Around 4:50 the song ends and changes to an outro with a danceable rhythm, nothing to do with the rest of the song.
Next up is “In Limbo”, featuring unusual arpeggio progressions and computer-processed drums. This track emerged from the early recording sessions and was originally known as “Lost At Sea.” It's one of the most abstract and repetitive, showcasing the band's focus on creating textures and experimenting with diverse sounds, rather than prioritizing melody.
“Idiotheque” is the song I find most jarring on the album. It was Jonny's idea, inspired by a Paul Lansky track (they even bothered to give him credit!), which Greenwood sampled and experimented with. Yorke would say it's like going to a club and the speakers are so loud the beat knocks you out. The lyrics are unsettling, hinting at a new Ice Age that could wipe out humanity. It's one of the hardest songs to digest on the album, but it's a prime example of music made entirely on a laptop.
Then comes “Morning Bell”, which segues into the beat at the end of “Idiotheque” and shifts to an electronic piano base. It's another track with strong experimental and abstract elements. The guitars sound like buzzing seabirds, creating strange effects, crackling and momentarily trying to break the line. The song becomes very repetitive with the drum loop and those two keyboard notes that repeat incessantly. A very strange song, where around the three-minute mark they begin to add variations with more vocals, loops, fade-in effects, the aforementioned guitar squeals, and neurotic arpeggios, ultimately giving the song a completely schizophrenic feel.
The album closes with “Motion Picture Soundtrack”, a song that predates even “Creep,” in which they attempted to capture the spirit of a 1950s Disney movie song. Hence its brighter, more dreamy feel. Thom recorded it with a pedal organ, while the other members added harp and double bass effects, along with that dramatic female voice at 2:15. They truly manage to emulate the spirit of a cheesy 1950s film. Around 3:15, the song fades out in a false ending and returns at 4:15 for a long Martenot wave and other unusual effects that evaporate at 5:10. The music then fades away, but the track continues silently for the next 7 minutes.
Kid A is a difficult, uncomfortable album. You have to listen to it quite a few times before you start to appreciate it, but once you do, it becomes addictive, and you can more easily access the band's later work. The album's sounds perfectly define not only the turn of the millennium but the entire first decade: paranoid, fearful, alienated, estranged, abstract, and surreal, increasingly diluted by technology. It doesn't sound like the '90s at all, but rather like a cutting-edge sound (even though it's already 11 years old), like what you imagined the 21st century would be like as a child. That's why I think it's one of the albums that opened doors and changed the course of music in 2000. Minimalist, unsettling, haunting, electronic, abstract, more focused on textures and sound experimentation than on creating memorable melodic lines or riffs… a risk only a band like Radiohead could take, a band that's always searching for something more and a step ahead of the rest. That's why the world took so long to decipher it and give it the recognition it deserves, and for that very reason, it's an album at least as revolutionary as OK Computer. In my opinion, one of the top 5 albums of the first decade of the new millennium.
Perhaps the only thing it shares with OK is the sheer brilliance of its creation. That, and the feeling of emptiness, that kind of melancholic surprise it leaves you with after listening to it, no matter how many times you've heard it before. A must-have.
By Corvan
Jan/29/2011
