For the current generation, there’s a parallel to that defining-moment question “Where were you on 9/11?”, and it is “Do you remember when you first heard Kid A?” It’s looking less and less likely every day that there will be another moment like it in the world of the LP. Its effect was so devastating and awe-inspiring that, in a way, it makes you wonder if everyone else simply shrugged their shoulders in defeat. There have been great albums since, of course, but none have had as much impact on our culture or even the way we believe successful bands should function.
Everyone knows the story by now. After 1997’s OK Computer took over the world but nearly destroyed the band; Radiohead retreated to the studio to essentially dismantle their entire sound. OK Computer will always remain a startling work, and had Radiohead called it quits afterwards, no one would have blamed them, nor would their legacy be in any danger of being tarnished. Yet that’s not what happened by any means; where OK Computer spawned several massive singles, accompanying videos, and global touring, its follow-up, Kid A, seemingly sprang up overnight. The band chose not to do a PR blitz for the release, eschewing singles and videos and even anything resembling a major tour. Kid A just was. It was a creature let loose on the world with Radiohead merely standing by on the sidelines observing the chaos left in its wake.
And what chaos there was. Nick Hornby wrote a feature review for The New Yorker that more or less called Kid A the death of rock. Pitchfork Media, still basically a fledgling entity yet to take over the world of music criticism, hailed the album as a classic for the times. And it’s arguable that their entire success since is because of how Kid A suddenly made it not just hip, but necessary to explore previously mostly ignored realms outside the pop and indie mainstream, genres like IDM and labels like Warp in particular benefitting from the attention. Seemingly every critic recognized that Kid A was an amazingly potent work, even if they were scared of it or confused by its development. Fans who may have initially been dismissive of the work for its lack of guitars and rock structures have come around to herald it as Radiohead’s finest achievement. The funny thing? All the hype, all the acclaim, every little piece of seemingly excessive commentary still doesn’t do the work justice.
Nearly a decade on, Kid A is just as startling as it was on the day it came out. There is still nothing out there like it; nobody has been able to rip off its sound accurately enough to dilute the source. But perhaps what is most surprising is how tied the album is to the LP format, especially given Radiohead’s recent transition into an entity that has given up on albums altogether. Kid A has a distinct beginning, middle, and end, even including an intermission of sorts, the ambient track “Treefingers.” You could remove the individual components of the album and they would work in a fashion, but so much of Kid A’s potency is a result of its sequencing—“Everything In Its Right Place” and “Kid A” are meant to be pairs, just as “The National Anthem” and “How To Disappear Completely” are.
The flow of the work is impeccable, tracks rising and falling to one overarching rhythm, their development organic. Similarly, though much has been said about how supposedly weird an album it is, Kid A is by no means lacking in hooks, most of the songs actually structured around surprisingly groove-oriented lead lines or, in the case of “National Anthem,” an incessant bass line. The accusations of weirdness could more accurately be read as shock at how little-used Thom Yorke’s singing voice is. Of course, Yorke’s voice isn’t missing altogether; it’s just been turned into another instrument for the bulk of the album, whether as warped found sounds on “Kid A” or the loops that dominate “In Limbo.”
On release, “Optimistic” seemed to get the most attention, perhaps because it’s the closest to the “classic” Radiohead sound, but in time, weirdly enough, “Idioteque” has emerged as a favorite. In a way “Idioteque” predicts the trend the indie world would head towards in the ensuing decade, working disco and dance structures and sounds into the mix. Anchored by a drum line that only sounds electronic, “Idioteque” also paradoxically features one of Yorke’s most straightforward melodies, supported as it is by alien-sounding vocal loops. The guitars are ditched in favor of ambient drones and found sounds, and the only bass is coming from the kick drum, Autechre-by-way-of-Radiohead in a sense.
“Idioteque,” though, is only a warm-up for the gorgeous closing of the album with “Morning Bell” and “Motion Picture Soundtrack.” While it would get a different treatment on Amnesiac, “Morning Bell” was always meant to lead into Kid A’s final moments, with its dreamy electric piano and a guitar that proves that ambient doesn’t have to mean lacking melody. “Motion Picture Soundtrack” is a starkly minimal, string-filled finale that would hint at the soundtrack work Jonny Greenwood would soon move towards.
Capitol has wisely left the album alone for the most part for this reissue. Rather than B-sides or alternate takes or remixes, they’ve tastefully included a second disc of BBC sessions and a live recording with almost all of the album represented (except, strangely, “Kid A”). Unfortunately, the BBC Sessions, normally a stellar vault of material, are poorly mixed here, the drums, so important to the album proper, weirdly muted and the keyboards pushed far more forward than they should be. This mix works well for most of “Everything In Its Right Place,” which features almost no drums and is dominated by the vocals and electric piano, but when Phil Selway makes a surprising appearance at its end, the effect is disappointing rather than exciting. Whether because the engineers fixed the issues or because, on this version, Radiohead more prominently use a drum machine, “Idioteque” fares a little better, though it still lacks much of the oomph of the original.
Far better, surprisingly, is the batch of live recordings. The band’s performance on the live recordings is particularly energetic, “The National Anthem” especially sounding aggressive and fiery, inspiring the crowd to spontaneously clap along through the beginning. The audience is surprisingly participatory through most of the tracks, proving that for all the talk of obtuseness and oddness, crowds had no difficulties clapping through the likes of “Idioteque.”
Ethics questions aside concerning the reissue of this album, Kid A doubtlessly remains the album of this decade, the type of work that demands to be experienced regardless of personal taste, even if this particular release doesn’t add anything worth upgrading for. Like Sgt. Pepper’s before it, though, Kid A seems poised to be a generation-spanning work, something that will remain vital through the years rather than diminished over time.
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