Now that last week's shitstorm of hype concerning the new Radiohead LP The King of Limbs has calmed down, we can all take a breath and wipe the expectation out of our bleary eyes. The pre-narrative for their eighth studio album is already been exhaustedly retold. This is the band's second self-release after dumping Capitol Records. It is following up the brilliant 2007 LP In Rainbows where the band allowed the buyers to pay what they felt the new album was worth. Not only did they send the big labels scrambling for innovation or cowering in fear, they forged a road for independent musicians to follow. In 2011, they take a different route to market by releasing an album with only four days of notice and no teasing single, clip or promo video to fan the flames of hype. This not only caused the groundswell of excitement by its suddenness, but acted as another sharp stick to the eye to record companies showing that their methods of marketing are even less necessary. So here we are with The King of Limbs, a strange and introspective collection that is less about grand themes or Radiohead's place in history as World's Greatest Band than ever before.
The King of Limbs opens with the weight of the world being shaken off in "Bloom" where the anarchic drum beats and medicinal pulse signposts an impossible moment being brought to life. Thom Yorke moans from the depths of space, opining about "The Universal Sigh" to perhaps reference the mundane nature of being so expansive. There is an intentional disconnect here and the distance does not close throughout the first half of the album. The jittery nature continues on the caffeinated "Morning Mr. Magpie" where Radiohead begins to approach accessibility, if only with a careful step. This Beatlesque title is anything but pop, a heated rant at no one or everyone. The gasps for air are desperate while a bristled guitar carves out a safe place for the music to retreat and breathe. "Little by Little" also creeps forward with a never-ending staircase of bass and a metronomic tick-tock coming from one of Salvador Dali's dripping clocks. It is sensual but still distrustful, wanting to touch but blocked by "Obligation, Complication, Routines and Schedules". It is a great dose of reality before the fearful track "Feral" where Yorke's manipulated grunts and howls are slathered with studio tricks and a frantic scampering of instruments. This plays out as the audio accompaniment to the band's full retreat from their stratospheric status.
The drops that fill the ambiance of "Lotus Flower" convey a restored openness through the new warmth in Yorke's vocals. It is a grand gesture of love that stands out from this uneasy album, yet fits with its awkward clutches for closeness. This spills into the emotive piano piece "Codex" that reminds of the murky depths of "Pyramid Song", complete with matched references to a fateful dip turned into a welcome drowning. Acoustic guitar finally finds its place in "Give Up The Ghost" where they keep it simple yet lush as they gradually let go of that heavy cumbersome past. Finishing with "Separator" is an aching hum, tapped out percussion and the dreamily woven lyrics that gets back to the notion of escape that started The King of Limbs. The guitar causally noodles through the rest of the dynamic as the band floats away back into orbit, unreachable but never quite out of view.
Their has been a lot of hypotheses floating about based on this stark and atypical album. So many have questioned whether this was just an amuse-bouche before the main course where fans would have appetites sated. The band has previously stated that the making of a new album, with the need for an adhered and focused theme, is something they are not interested in making any longer. Still The King of Limbs seems to have many themes, whether they are contradictory or just more reasonable. The common element in the music with all of its twitches and tension sets the mood of the band's discomfort with their station. The eight songs could be split into two EP's with the first half being telescopically distant while the second is a warm yet tentative embrace. The music is an exercise in repetition and a statement of rejection, being anti-pop, anti-structure, anti-perfection. Here on The King of Limbs, we have a band who still enjoy that they are just that, but are relinquishing their accountability to create anything of bombast or expected greatness. There is a common motif here and that is that they are finished with common motifs.
Purchase The King of Limbs here.
Radiohead - Little By Little
Radiohead - Give Up The Ghost
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