Photo by: wfnx.com
Radiohead’s newest album, The King of Limbs, is a divisive record, one that further detaches Radiohead from the indie-rock genre they so greatly influenced and helped shape in the 1990s.
The album still maintains the depth of Radiohead’s sonic maturity and manages to portray an impressively wide range of emotions in a relatively short amount of time, with admittedly varying degrees of success and listenability.
Radiohead has always been a group whose music can rarely be appreciated until one gives it repeated listens. The King of Limbs is no different; it is a subtle record that simply does not bother with immediacy.
This concern with subtlety was clearly reflected in the manner in which the album was released, with the band quietly announcing on the Monday after The Grammys that The King of Limbs would be out that Saturday. No big single release, no tour announcement, nothing.
This focus on restraint is apparent from the moment you start the opening track, “Bloom,” which features soothing, ambient electronics and a chopped-up percussion track that serves as the canvas on which Thom Yorke paints a breathtaking sonic landscape with expansive, dramatic vocals.
It’s a beautiful opener that manages to be wonderfully inviting while also remaining delicately understated.
The mood becomes significantly less soothing on the next two tracks.
“Morning Mr Magpie” is a brooding song that releases its tension not with a climax, but with a slow decrescendo that culminates in Yorke singing, in almost a whisper: “You’ve stolen all the magic to my melody.” It’s a clever way to end an almost hair-raisingly tense song – much like a fight that ends not with fists but with a calculated, cutting remark.
Whatever the mood – somber, brooding or yearning – the album’s first five tracks cover their respective moods in similar ways: subtle harmonizations, electronic manipulation of instruments and restrained – or in the case of “Feral,” practically nonexistent – vocals. These five songs, as a whole, feel very much like a dream.
It is during the album’s “morning-after” period that The King of Limbs starts to lose some steam. “Codex” and “Give Up the Ghost” are both reliant on more traditional instrumentation, with the former based on piano and the latter on guitar.
While the album’s sudden move to a more plain style of emotive ness is an interesting shift, the two songs together are just a bit too static and meandering for their own good.
However, whatever ground is lost by these two tracks is quickly gained by the closing track “Separator,” which is probably the most complete-feeling song on the album.
Featuring a catchy drum loop, a sweetly-cascading guitar riff and wonderfully soothing vocal work from Yorke, who repeats: “If you think this is over, then you’re wrong.” It might just be a genuinely hopeful way of ending the album.
Or, it might be a hint that Radiohead plans to follow this rather short album with another set of new tracks in the not-so-distant future. Other hints of a future album include that the album folder from Radiohead’s website, is labeled “KOL1.”
Whether they actually do end up giving us a follow-up effort anytime soon, Radiohead’s first entry in the new decade is a complex, beautiful and, sometimes to a fault, a painstakingly restrained album, one whose reliance on electronic manipulation suggests Radiohead is still very intent on staying with the times.
Like all of life’s journeys, The King of Limbs can be difficult, confusing and even outright disappointing, but it is still very much a journey worth taking.
