20. Radiohead, "Kid A"

 

Do I like this album, a mostly somnabmbulant collection of whooshing sounds and ominous synth tones over which Thom Yorke keens repeated phrases that seem deeply meaningful but are actually nonsense?  No.  Is it nevertheless one of the greatest albums of all time, a work of visionary genius, well ahead of its time, a document of a band at the zenith of its creative powers?  Also no.

Let's face it, after OK Computer and all of its (deserved, for the most part) praise and honors, Radiohead could have recorded almost anything and it would have been hailed as a Towering Work of Genius.  Except for, probably, cool songs that people like and can sing along to with hooks and catchy choruses, yuck.  So they all got very Radioheady and introspective.  Thom "moved down to Cornwall, went out to the cliffs and drew in a sketchbook, day in, day out.  I was allowed to play the piano and that was it, because that was all we had in the house."  Of course.  They fucked around for months in different studios the way only a band who has unlimited fame and budget can do.  And this was the result.

What is it, exactly?  I guess it's mostly expermiental elctronica mixed with post-art-rock, and yes, it's as dreary as that sounds.  Let's take track 2, the title track.  It starts with some kind of plunking sounds and synths (that sounds a lot like Boards of Canada, let's not kid ourselves), and then Yorke's heavily processed vocals:

We've got heads on sticks
And you've got ventriloquists
We've got heads on sticks
And you've got ventriloquists

Cool, man.  There are only two tracks that can respectfully be called "songs," in the sense that they're coherent and are built around an identifiable musical idea.  The first, "Optimistic," actually has a repeating guitar part and a certainly memorable, if depressing, chorus:

You can try the best you can
You can try the best you can
The best you can is good enough
You can try the best you can
You can try the best you can
The best you can is good enough

Or maybe it's uplifting, I don't know.  The other is "Idioteque," built around a great drum machine pattern and the usual synth stuff but with an inspired vocal performance by Yorke.

The album's reception at the time of its release was decidedly mixed.  "Kid A may feel cold and ahuman at first, but stick with it for the full 50 minutes: Listen long enough, and a fragile, flickering glow becomes apparent amid the chill. It’s the sound of human warmth flooding into a formerly alien space — of Radiohead finally going exactly where they wanted," said LA Weekly.  On the other hand,  "people are making a fuss over sounds that they wouldn't spare a column inch for if it came out under the name 'Autechre,' and . . . because it was decided that Radiohead were Important and Significant last time around, no one can accept the album as the crackpot art project it so obviously is," said Rolling Stone in a truly hilarious review.  And then on the other other hand you had the most pretentious Pitchfork review of all time (a 10, of course), with stuff like "This is an emotional, psychological experience.  Kid A sounds like a clouded brain trying to recall an alien abduction.  It's the sound of a band, and its leader, losing faith in themselves, destroying themselves, and subsequently rebuilding a perfect entity."  

But since then, its reputation has grown and grown and the critical consensus has solidified so much that it went from number 428 in the 2003 version of this list, where it probably belongs, to number 20 today.  Why?  I don't know, probably because critics want to seem smart and you get more rewards for liking "difficult" things like this album than "easy" things like albums that are enjoyable to listen to.  This is not enjoyable to listen to.

Is this album in my personal Top 100? I'm trying to remove it from my history so Spotify doesn't think I ever want to hear it again.