In 2001, a year when albums leaked one song at a time and I had to walk uphill in the snow both ways to get to school, Radiohead released the album Amnesiac. Coming just months after the paradigm-shifting Kid A and stemming from the same sessions, it was roundly seen as Kid A‘s weird (but pretty cute!) kid sister. The full-lengths, as we forget so easily, only tell part of the story: to fill out the Amnesiac b-sides, the band went back to the studio for the first time since the lengthy, strained recording efforts that produced both albums and tracked a handful of new songs. The b-sides, free of the crushing artistic and commercial pressures that have weighed on the band like Atlas since “Creep,” resulted in some of Radiohead’s strangest, most beautiful material: “Fog,” my favorite Radiohead song, a track as murky and lovely as the subject of its title; “Cuttooth,” a piano-driven freight train that’s lyrics were later borrowed for especially paranoiac Hail to the Thief track “Myxomatosis”; “Worrywort,” a synthesizer ballad Vangelis would’ve loved that dealt with the exhausting nature of creation; and so on.
All this seemed to leave the world wide open, but 2003′s Hail to the Thief had different ambitions, and many of the directions explored on Amnesiac and its surrounding tracks seemed suddenly closed off. It’s important here to remember 1997′s OK Computer, a guitar album as vivid and ambitious as any guitar album has ever been: it is cathartic and invigorating like few recordings of any sort before or since. (Not that it matters much, but were it not for Bob Dylan, it would’ve won the Grammy for Album of the Year, too.) Radiohead has spent its four albums (five, counting Thom Yorke’s solo set The Eraser) since trying to see how far the band can go with limited resources: absent guitars, neutered solos, warped vocals, drum machines, anything to avoid the pleasure-center mainlining that had been their previous specialty. Its recent catalog contains plenty of fireworks and blown speakers, of course, but from a listener’s perspective, at times, the pursuit of restraint has seemed like an exercise in frustration: see the drum machine that enters at the end of In Rainbows‘ “Videotape,” only to peter out aimlessly rather than drive the song to a conclusion, or the solo-that-isn’t that closes HTTT‘s “Go To Sleep.” The band’s relationship with electronics has played into this: the complex, thematic marriage of drum machines and percussionist Phil Selway on Kid A and even HTTT highlights such as “Sit Down Stand Up” also led to Yorke’s brittle, too-minimal Eraser, an album that still often sounds like it’s waiting for some beat-maker to come finish it up.
As Radiohead nerds — and, in the ultimate High Fidelity seal of approval, there are very likely more Radiohead nerds than exist for any other modern band — know, Yorke found those beat-makers and took The Eraser on tour in 2009 and 2010 with a band dubbed Atoms for Peace. At any given time, two, often three of the band’s members would be handling percussion; Flea, shirtless and stroking his bass like a Paul Rudd wet dream, needed no assistance. The inherent vitality of live performance helped fill them out, but even bootlegs reveal songs reaching their full potential: claustrophobic skeletons emboldened with coursing blood and thickened muscle. Perhaps Yorke realized that he could do his less with more. Read the rest of this entry »