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20 Years of Radiohead’s Kid A

1,214 words

Kid A belongs on an end-times list of anti-modern records. How is that possible? Radiohead is, by any measure, one of the most successful recording groups in the world and also one of the most reliable when it comes to mainstreaming alternative and experimental music. Does it make sense to call a record like this one — recorded with digital trappings like synthesizers, computers, and leaked all over the internet — “anti-modern” without stripping that term of its usefulness, or this album of its soulfulness?

The answer is yes. The truth behind Kid A lies in its malaise. Its general attitude of detachment, paranoia, and social anxiety is often attributed to more mundane factors, like Thom Yorke’s status as a philosophizing crybaby or the music industry’s bad habit of churning out depressive wankery (it sells well). Radiohead’s fascination with technology and social paranoia started developing on their sophomore record (The Bends), blossomed into a fully-formed thesis on their third (OK Computer), and entered into the realm of synthesis on Kid A, where their embrace of obviously digital recording technology touching every aspect of the recording process stands in sharp contrast to Computer, where technology is either hidden in the background or treated with otherworldly fear.

The computers, robots, and machines on OK Computer vary between cold demiurges and helpless accidents — compare the Menschmaschine intonation of “Fitter, Happier” to the self-pity and vindictiveness on “Paranoid Android” — all more or less intent on pursuing their own interests. OK Computer, while still a complete record, pursues the individual plots and motifs of its tracks with a great level of distinction — one does not sense the band as much as they sense the compelling characters they have created on each song.

Kid A stands out for its remarkably different approach to these two concepts as refined on OK Computer. The first and most obvious is that Kid A is inescapably an electronic album where OK Computer was a rock album with varying levels of electronic accompaniment. Kid A was not really an embrace of technology, however, given that the same recording techniques that made OK Computer possible were simply employed to their fullest extent on Kid A. Rather, Kid A introduced electronic music as a concept to the album’s metanarrative. The electronica of Kid A is the very first thing you notice about it, both in the observational and literal senses — the first lush note of “Everything In Its Right Place” sets the tone for the whole record.

You can buy The World in Flames: The Shorter Writings of Francis Parker Yockey here.

Kid A includes far fewer characterizations than OK Computer did. In deciding to take the plunge into full-blown electronica, the band also made the decision to dive into absurdity at the same time. This is significant — Yorke is a talented lyricist who does not struggle with setting the scene, but upon encountering the sheer mystery, the unknown of electronica, he reverted to nonsense. Much of the album’s lyrics were created using the cut-up method (falsely attributed to Burroughs, though popularized by him) both in the songwriting phase (pulling slips of lyrics from a hat) and in production (Jonny Greenwood splicing Yorke’s vocals in real time for looping and distortion). The end result is a record that evades intelligible discussion — “yesterday, I woke up sucking a lemon.”

The band seems to be suggesting two things, both profoundly at odds with the system of modernity in general. First of all, one gets the impression from this album that there are certain things that cannot be known. This can be a broad statement, such as claiming that Kid A is an enigmatic album that can’t satisfyingly be dissected (hmm). On a more granular level, however, one can also suggest that even something man himself has created cannot ever be fully known — whether these are social structures, musical instruments, or songs. Yorke babbles away nonsensically because that’s the only appropriate thing to do in these contexts.

Beneath mere nonsense, however, lurks the more sinister aspect of the unknown. All of the electronic tracks on Kid A are forward-facing things that often contain a great deal of discordance (“The National Anthem,” “Idioteque”), aimlessness (“How To Disappear Completely,” “Treefingers”), or the uncanny (“Kid A”). The sweetest melodies to be found on Kid A are those that aren’t actually made by electronic instruments. Consider the sweeping strings of the penultimate song — “Motion Picture Soundtrack” — influenced by one Krzystof Penderecki, a composer known for a renewed talent in traditional songwriting forms that incorporated his experience with the avant-garde.

The final product is an album that deals overwhelmingly with the concept of alienation. Specifically, it deals with alienation from the things created by man’s own hand, things that should be familiar to us, but instead become entities that enthrall and ensnare.

Modernity and its associated advances in technology are a consequence of our own actions, but these systems disguise that causality; computers, distributed networks, and synthesizers may take the human work out of doing certain tasks, but they also make themselves foreign to us in the process through specialization, jargon, or the limitations of a medium. In other words, modernity dispossesses us from the consequences of our actions, which is what causes the final product of our efforts to approach the uncanny. A computer model or simulation is never quite the same as the real thing, and knowing that we were responsible for creating it makes the whole scenario far more unnerving.

Kid A is about this kind of alienation. Kid A is anti-modern because of its remarkably honest depiction of what emotions man undergoes in the presence of the unknown or the unknowable, yet it never makes an attempt to pretend that it’s figured it all out. The most beautiful sounds on this record are those created in the shadow of a man who swam in the sea of modernity for decades before returning to the comfort of tradition. If Kid A isn’t anti-modern, then why does it make modernity sound so gloomy?

Kid A is also an album close to my heart for a few reasons. It’s only a few weeks older than me, having been released on October 2nd, 2000. It was also one of the first albums I heard that seemed to get to the heart of an angst that I developed early on in my life and have never been able to really get over. This album was Baby’s First Enigmatic Record, and it kickstarted a lifelong love of music — and suspicion of it all the same — that led me to where I am today.

As far as the album’s conclusion? Many of the tracks on Kid A have no distinct ending, or their finales are simply a climactic burst of incongruous elements. That’s because there can be no end. The song’s mystery, though no longer ringing in our ears with immediacy, lives on.

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4 Comments

  1. meetinpeopleainteasy
    Posted October 2, 2020 at 4:17 pm | Permalink

    I feel that with Kid A and more specifically Amnesiac, Radiohead deliberately released very obnoxious versions of otherwise solid Bends/OK Computer esque songs. If you ever listen to the live version of “Like Spinning Plates” you will find a great piano figure missing from the album version, which is just … uh. It is anti-music in a way, to make a good song and deliberately release a ruined version of it. For sure the massive acclaim OK Computer got made them terrified of releasing something worse (or something better).

    The politics of Kid A of course are very cringey. “Ice age coming, we’re not scaremongering, this is really happening” poses a few questions about the nature of truth. The politics feels (to me anyway) very tacked-on with Radiohead. The liberal doffing of the cap to the issues of the day. A ritual that has “Guardian reader” written all over it. Or, perhaps, “Radio 4 listener”. Indeed, according to bassist and Cambridge English Literature graduate Colin Greenwood, the backwards-forwards vocal on “Like Spinning Plates” was based off an idea he got from an episode of “Women’s Hour” (a program on Radio 4 that is as bad as you think it sounds, and seems to involve lots of transexuals). And as for (((Naomi Klein))) – ’nuff said.

    Kid A’s electronica is slightly overstated, too. How to Disappear Completely is an acoustic guitar led song, presented quite normally on Kid A, and heard at live Radiohead gigs since 1998. Motion Picture Soundtrack started as an acoustic guitar song, and bootlegs can be found from as early as 1994. On the record it is played on the organ – hardly cutting-edge tech! Treefingers, I think is actually Ed O’Brien’s guitar with lots of effects pedals on, and Morning Bell is a rocker.

    Their music in more recent years has become unlistenable and their politics are unbearable. There is a good band in there somewhere, but really, the last time they wrote good music it was still the 20th century. I feel that Radiohead now create music for music’s sake, and really, ought to retire, like a lot of these bloated, mega-famous musicians.
    This is all before we even broach the subject of Radiohead and Judaism/Israel. Creep first became a hit in Israel (for some reason), Radiohead did a recent gig in Israel that all the luminaries of the music world criticized them for, and just take a look through their respective Twitters to get a feel for where they stand. It is off-putting and it reflects their not-as-smart-as-we-think-we-are, naive, liberal, weaponized 105 IQ, Radio 4 / Guardian haven’t-written-a-decent-song-since-circa-1998 outlook.

    As for the technology-paranoia thing, I think this is due to a naivety about the world that Thom Yorke has. A child-like vision of people getting along and meaning what they say. In the early songs this came across as “it’s difficult to get on with other people”, and later it turned into “it’s difficult to get on with technology”. Fundamentally, the creep always gets let down by the stupid car, with no airbag, and no ripcord, just an iron lung and a lucky videotape to fade out is all I need.

  2. Alexandra O.
    Posted October 3, 2020 at 7:59 am | Permalink

    I’m not anything of a music critic, but rather I’m in the category of ‘I know what I like’. I came to Radiohead late in their career, seeing them first performing on ‘Austin City Limits’ in October 2012, as well as late in my life — I’m older than most of the crowd at Counter Currents. However, they had been in the background of my life, I am sure, from listening to a great rock station in L.A., KCRW, from May 2005 on — when I got a job which allowed me to keep a radio at my desk in the back of a large archives room. I had tuned in 10 minutes late to ACL, and was immediately mesmerized by the voice of the lead singer, and then the camera zeroed in on the electronic ‘tuning’ being done by Johnny Greenwood just behind — and somehow the name ‘Radiohead’ popped into my mind, and I thought, ‘No, it couldn’t be, they’re too big and famous for ACL’. So, I kept watching, and as they say — it was love at first sight.

    I subsequently bought everything they had done, but lately have drifted back to Classical music, since I am stuck with roommates now. My all-time favorites of Radiohead, culminate with the ethereal ‘Bloom’, since I am foremost an ecologist, and this piece is a lyric homage to the ocean itself, though ‘Weird Fishes’ runs a close second — I love them both. I think their most recognizable anthems are ‘There, There’ and ‘Everything In It’s Right Place’. And I just am entranced by the bubbly ‘Subterranean Homesick Alien’ — a sure-cure for the blues any day.

    The best thing about Radiohead is that you never know what you will hear next. There is no set formula, and even individual pieces change tune and tempo within, at will, but somehow all managing to hang together, though as the author points out, often just end for no reason — no distinct ending.

    I’ve never seen them live, but I did see Thom Yorke live with another band he put together to record his own ideas, called “Atoms for Peace”, when they played the Hollywood Bowl, one glorious October evening with a full moon overhead. Sometimes life gives you unexpected gifts — as with all things Yorke and Radiohead.

  3. ADL Pyramid of Hate
    Posted October 7, 2020 at 7:33 am | Permalink

    You’re only 19? Damn, bro, from your writing I never would have guessed you were younger than me. Old soul, I guess.

  4. Slamhead
    Posted October 15, 2020 at 8:31 am | Permalink

    I have been forever impressed by this album. I will name my first-born child after it. I suppose I will cary on the tradition for the second born child, as well.

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