Radiohead - Kid A

Fri 3rd Dec, 2004 in Music Reviews

Most people will try and tell you that The Bends or OK Computer is the classic Radiohead album – hell, the classic album of the 90s, period. But the gem that is Kid A deserves its time in the limelight as well, for it is the one that assured Radiohead’s position in music history, right in between Britpop and Britney.

Here was a band who had given the world the one-two punch of The Bends and OK Computer, two pieces of work which set up the five piece from Oxfordshire for global domination of U2 proportions. All they had to do was cough up another guitar rock epic with polite flourishes of electronica and the trophy was theirs for the taking. Instead they put out one of the most challenging albums to hit mainstream status, and critics and punters alike fawned over them anyway.

The gentle hum of organ and the wistful, looped voice of Thom Yorke starts opener Everything In Its Right Place. It is all whirring electronics and glitched beeps, and you wonder when the guitars – indeed, the rest of the band – will kick in. But they don’t, and that’s the point – with Kid A, Radiohead didn’t want to give you the ultimate indie post-rock album. No, they were going to let the electronic experimentation do the talking.

The National Anthem’s menacing bassline is the first sign of conventional instruments, and you sigh with relief. But then the horns and strings storm in – if you want a band, they’ll give you a band. It’s a cacophony of noise, intense and ridiculous at the same time, but it works.

Treefingers is solely laconic organ hums, which can be likened to air conditioning noise, and yet when it abruptly stops five minutes later you miss the cocoon of sound it spins around you. This is the only Radiohead album which is a real pilgrimage – while the others are a compilation of tracks, each song able to stand alone, Kid A is definitely the sum of its parts, an album you should listen from start to finish to feel its full effect.

You know this when Optimistic sweeps you up into its voodoo plain, it’s tribal drums and Yorke’s cooing carrying you right into In Limbo, where you tumble around as the song descends upon you. It’s lulls you into a trance. You’re calm. You’re out of it. And then Idioteque comes on.

Idioteque has a strange effect on people. Chaotic programmed beats, Thom Yorke shrieking maniacally ‘Women and children first!’, falsetto reaching helium-induced heights, it should have people running away screaming. And yet. A firm live favourite, whenever played limbs are flailed about, and people sing along. Loudly. Leave your guitars at the door.

Kid A is by no means Radiohead’s most accessible album, but in many ways it wasn’t supposed to be. Created at a time when the intense public and critical scrutiny and expectation nearly dissolved the band, they decided to effectively say ‘fuck you’ to everyone and instead write music that would satisfy themselves first and foremost. And in doing so they redefined ‘success’ – uncompromising, reaching millions, with Kid A they secured their future to do with it as they wished.