The horrendously boring critical confusion over the intentions of the world?s most enigmatic pop band.
Pop is only that which is played on the radio, so now Radiohead has succeeded in having a huge fan base while extricating themselves from the media, so as to be even more enigmatic for those who hear about them and don’t know. I don’t think there are any critical accounts that actually tell much about the follow up to the art damaged Kid A last year except to say it was recorded at the same session, so it’s sonically in the same ball park.
And yet there is much more in the way of ambience and distortion on this record, if you can get through all the layers of sound, there is still Thom Yorke’s high tenor wailing away, big chucks piano chords and sweeping strings on the crescendos. Nothing you haven’t heard before, and wouldn’t feel out of place on a PJ Harvey or Tom Waits album. The difference is that there is a subtlety of composition that the band has honed that provides not only engaging palates of sound, but emotionally treads between two or more states of feeling at the same time. Lyrically more obtuse than ever, but it adds to the fill in the blanks listening Radiohead offers.