Post by Zapp Brannigan on Feb 21, 2011 0:00:53 GMT -5
www.lifessweetbreath.com/reviews/albums/35-the-king-of-limbs.html
Radiohead - The King Of Limbs
[Self-Released]
94%
Radiohead kills me. They really do. Maybe it’s my complete inability to cope with any sort of mystery whatsoever, but every time I listened/watched/thought about them in the years leading up to their eighth album, I was berated by so many unanswered questions. Among them: how do you one-up an album that was released for a pay-what-you-want (A.K.A. free) policy? How do you possibly expound on a sound that you perfected after you revolutionized the way we hear music for the second time? But let’s start with the facts.
The King Of Limbs is, for sure, an adventure. The sound is absolutely an evolution for the band. The electronic-styled tracks that decorate the album are a call back to Amnesiac-era tracks. The combination of sounds on tracks like “Lotus Flower” and “Feral” contribute to a true Phil Spector-esque “Wall of Sound”. Picking apart the individual sounds that add up to such a minimal sounding record is more of a challenge than before.
There are no standout guitar tracks; a hefty percentage of the album is spent wondering just what the rest of the band is doing. Surely Ed O’Brien and Johnny Greenwood are involved, but the evidence doesn’t hit you as immediately as it does in OK Computer or In Rainbows. The band exists, but in the same vein as Kid A, their role isn’t as initially dominating.
The haunting piano ballads Yorke has become so superb at return in grand style. The album’s sixth track, “Codex”, transitions between a wired distortion of noise and a beautiful piano constant sleepily drifting towards the vastness of the haunted sound. The ambience of the backdrop of noise culminates in the familiar sounds of nature, reminding us that amidst this technological brainwork, these songs are still very much organic.
Another major difference on this album isn’t just the abstraction of the music, but of the lyrics as well. On “Codex”, Yorke sings, ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, slide your hand, jump off the end, the water’s clear and innocent.’ The words grow darker and more disembodied as the album progresses until “Separator”: ‘My woman blows her cover, in the eye of the beholder, I’m a fish now out of water, falling off a giant bird that’s been carrying me.’ These lyrics stick to the brain in a much more personal way than previous Radiohead works.
In fact, the album competes on a level similar to Yorke’s 2006 solo album The Eraser in more than one way. The maximum-to-seem-minimalist approach coupled with the heavy incorporation of drum machine-type beats recalls the solo work more so than any of the band’s earlier albums.
King of Limbs is significant for, among other things, its seeming lack of structure. Radiohead pushes the boundaries when it comes to music (and I like to make obvious statements). The revolution of their eighth LP is the forfeiture of order for texture. The sound is so heavily layered that it’s easy to lose focus of the words or basic instrumentation, and get washed away into the ambience.
One of the criticisms Radiohead has always gotten from the six people who don’t like their music is that it’s boring. Never before has this argument held water with me, but with King of Limbs I can for the first time at least see where people are coming from. This album certainly isn’t boring but the repetition of buzz and beeps is definitely alienating for those certain fans who wouldn’t listen to Yorke sing the phonebook.
Simply put, this album will polarize. It will receive an extreme amount of unearned hatred as well as heaps of praise that probably go above and beyond what is due. The trick is to wade through the bias that Radiohead generates and answer the basic question at the heart of every music review: is this good music?
The short answer: Yes.
-Jack McGrew, February 20, 2011
Radiohead - The King Of Limbs
[Self-Released]
94%
Radiohead kills me. They really do. Maybe it’s my complete inability to cope with any sort of mystery whatsoever, but every time I listened/watched/thought about them in the years leading up to their eighth album, I was berated by so many unanswered questions. Among them: how do you one-up an album that was released for a pay-what-you-want (A.K.A. free) policy? How do you possibly expound on a sound that you perfected after you revolutionized the way we hear music for the second time? But let’s start with the facts.
The King Of Limbs is, for sure, an adventure. The sound is absolutely an evolution for the band. The electronic-styled tracks that decorate the album are a call back to Amnesiac-era tracks. The combination of sounds on tracks like “Lotus Flower” and “Feral” contribute to a true Phil Spector-esque “Wall of Sound”. Picking apart the individual sounds that add up to such a minimal sounding record is more of a challenge than before.
There are no standout guitar tracks; a hefty percentage of the album is spent wondering just what the rest of the band is doing. Surely Ed O’Brien and Johnny Greenwood are involved, but the evidence doesn’t hit you as immediately as it does in OK Computer or In Rainbows. The band exists, but in the same vein as Kid A, their role isn’t as initially dominating.
The haunting piano ballads Yorke has become so superb at return in grand style. The album’s sixth track, “Codex”, transitions between a wired distortion of noise and a beautiful piano constant sleepily drifting towards the vastness of the haunted sound. The ambience of the backdrop of noise culminates in the familiar sounds of nature, reminding us that amidst this technological brainwork, these songs are still very much organic.
Another major difference on this album isn’t just the abstraction of the music, but of the lyrics as well. On “Codex”, Yorke sings, ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, slide your hand, jump off the end, the water’s clear and innocent.’ The words grow darker and more disembodied as the album progresses until “Separator”: ‘My woman blows her cover, in the eye of the beholder, I’m a fish now out of water, falling off a giant bird that’s been carrying me.’ These lyrics stick to the brain in a much more personal way than previous Radiohead works.
In fact, the album competes on a level similar to Yorke’s 2006 solo album The Eraser in more than one way. The maximum-to-seem-minimalist approach coupled with the heavy incorporation of drum machine-type beats recalls the solo work more so than any of the band’s earlier albums.
King of Limbs is significant for, among other things, its seeming lack of structure. Radiohead pushes the boundaries when it comes to music (and I like to make obvious statements). The revolution of their eighth LP is the forfeiture of order for texture. The sound is so heavily layered that it’s easy to lose focus of the words or basic instrumentation, and get washed away into the ambience.
One of the criticisms Radiohead has always gotten from the six people who don’t like their music is that it’s boring. Never before has this argument held water with me, but with King of Limbs I can for the first time at least see where people are coming from. This album certainly isn’t boring but the repetition of buzz and beeps is definitely alienating for those certain fans who wouldn’t listen to Yorke sing the phonebook.
Simply put, this album will polarize. It will receive an extreme amount of unearned hatred as well as heaps of praise that probably go above and beyond what is due. The trick is to wade through the bias that Radiohead generates and answer the basic question at the heart of every music review: is this good music?
The short answer: Yes.
-Jack McGrew, February 20, 2011