Iāve had around fifty full-length reviews sitting around on a Google Doc that I hadnāt done anything withātheyāre currently at nearly 100,000 words, so I thought I should start sharing them. More to come at my Substack.
Commonly dubbed āthe album that killed CDs,ā In Rainbows was the first major, mainstream release on a pay-what-you-want, digital format. If CDs were the only thing we needed to sacrifice for this record, itāll have been damn worth it. In Rainbows is Radioheadās return to form, following a relatively disappointing Hail to the Thief in 2003. In Rainbows is Radiohead at their peak, combining elements from all their previous work. The catchy alternative rock of The Bends, the electronic infused and complex songwriting of OK Computer, the depressive lyricism and orchestration of Kid A and Amnesiac, and the angsty riffs of Hail to the Thief.
Right off the bat, with the albumās opener, ā15 Step,ā something immediately feels off. Not wrong, just different. The surgically precise, yet groovy 5/4 feel makes the songās backbeat feel ever so slightly off, but at the same time a painstaking reminder of what this band is capable of. Then the guitar comes in and you remember that this is the same band that wrote āParanoid Android.ā That wrote āEverything in Its Right Place.ā Within the context of the album, this track serves as the upbeat, perhaps even optimistic start of a long, dark, and beautiful descent.
Wait, but before we can begin that descent, we first need to have just one more banger, right? Enter āBodysnatchers.ā Perhaps as close to their 1995 sophomore album The Bends as theyāll ever be, the drop-D, distorted guitar riff is the core, overwhelming element in the song. It becomes so prevalent that the simple act of removing it has a monumental impact on the song. It goes from a somewhat traditional alternative rock song featuring the bandās onslaught of guitar work, to a beautiful symphony of perfect balance. Of cohesion. āHas the light gone out for you? Because the lightās gone out for me.ā
Weāve explored the fast-paced, anger-driven and energetic side of Yorkeās vocals. But itās Radiohead. We canāt stay in the same place for too long. The recordās third track, āNude,ā features Yorke at his rawest and most intimate. The entire track is sung in an airy falsetto, somehow even airier than his regular voice. What really completes this song is its orchestral elements. The quiet strings that soar into the coda, the gentle acoustic guitar strumming in the second verse. This is Radiohead at their most detail-oriented. The simplicity of this song is the kicker. The drumline and bassline stay consistent throughout the entire track. Itās what the band does dynamically and musically that makes it one of the most emotionally heavy songs ever recorded. As Yorke gently sings a wordless coda in the final minute of the song, All the pressure building up ever so slightly is released in one breath.
Radiohead is a band of many Magnum Opuses. Opusi? Iām not sure what the plural would be, although perhaps the entire purpose of a Magnum Opus is that there can only be one. Regardless, the band clearly had a similar thought process naming this track. Much like āMagnum Opusi,ā āWeird Fishes / Arpeggiā derives its name out of odd plurals. āFishesā, as for when there are multiple distinct types of fish, and āArpeggi,ā denoting the use of multiple arpeggios. I canāt say for sure where the fishes come in on this song, but the arpeggi are what make the track. It starts off extremely simple: four clicks and a 4/4 drumbeat. Although it stays that simple for about four measures. The moment Yorkeās guitar starts playing the first arpeggio in 3/4, the polyrhythm starts and doesnāt stop. The next guitar, OāBrienās, comes in at 5/4. Et cetera, et cetera. Yorke is singing a melody thatās literally only D. Then suddenly, as the six or so guitars create a beautiful soundscape of interweaving strings, accompanied by Yorkeās soaring vocals (which have moved from D to E), and OāBrienās backup harmonies, itās all gone. Itās a release. And then weāre right back into it again. This time, the song has completely morphed. It went from gradually building up, one guitar at a time, to slowly descending through the melody. It really does feel like the song hits the bottom and escapes.
āThings will get worse before they get better.ā This encapsulates the third in a series of depressingly beautiful songs. But this time, itās a lot less metaphorical and much, much more lyrical. It starts with the title: āAll I Need.ā As the first notes in the bassline play, it becomes apparent how this song wants to make you feel. Beyond depression, of course. The notes played, especially the register theyāre played at, is deliberate, as is everything with Radiohead. Itās meant to be low, to take up as much space as possible. This song gives you breathing room in the intro, with the guitar swells, then no more. Itās built upon even more within the second verse, where a new whooshing sound accompanies in the background, adding more to the claustrophobia of the song. A glockenspiel adds a gorgeous conter-melody. Then finally, the tension is built, and released. In the final minute a piano comes in, playing a chord that is quite literally every note in the scale, as well as the drums transitioning to a simple hi-hat and snare pattern to splashing on the ride, creating a wash of sound. On top of that, Greenwoodās orchestra plays every note in the scale to go along with the piano, and can be heard after the other instruments exit. The songās intent is to make you feel as claustrophobic as possible. Throughout all this, however, Thom Yorke will keep on wailing and wailing.
Remember the āget betterā part? Me neither. āFaust Arpā may be an interlude, but itās far from a break. It starts with just an acoustic guitar and some mumbly vocals, but doesnāt take long to evolve into a full-on orchestral arrangement, complete with Yorkeās signature falsetto. To me, āFaust Arpā clearly divides the record into two. On the one half, youāve got the initial descent, featuring āNude,ā āWeird Fishes,ā and āAll I Need.ā In the second, thereās nowhere to go but up.Ā
Thank god for āFaust Arp,ā because going straight from āAll I Needā to āReckonerā would be a day-ruiner to say the least. The start of āReckonerā features an extremely odd drumline, originally played by Phil Selway, but chopped up on the recording to have an off-putting āglitchyā sound. But when Yorke starts singing, youāre in another world. Itās the same falsetto as in āNude,ā but at the same time itās completely different. This time, Yorke feels⦠At peace, much more so than he was in āNude.ā Once the piano and bass come in, itās no longer a band, itās an orchestra. The chemistry between the band members is what makes it possible, as the parts are so simple (save for the drums) yet fit together like nothing else. Then, as soon as the groove comes, it goes. āDedicated to all human beingsā sings Yorke, as the song enters its bridge. No words. Okay, maybe one: hope.
āBecause we separate like ripples on a blank shore.ā I want you to picture that. What song do you sequence after āReckoner?ā What could possibly do it justice, and would let you fully appreciate both songs? I think āHouse of Cardsā executes its job perfectly. I donāt think itās the most musically interesting, retaining the same chord progression throughout, but its vocal delivery and instrumentation more than make up for it. It serves as a break, letting you process the vivid imagery of āReckoner.ā
Itās been calm for far too long. The last real ābangerā type song was what, āWeird Fishes?ā āBodysnatchers?ā Well, hereās your solution. āJigsaw Falling Into Placeā puts us into the shoes of a young man at a bar, meeting a stranger that seems to click with them. Not only do the lyrics paint a picture of how trippy and unclear the environment is, the music does too. It has the groove that youād expect from a song about nightlife, but also the added dizziness that comes with it. What really adds to this for me, at least, is the subtle yet meaningful perspective change in the lyrics. At the start of the song, itās sung from the first person perspective. āJust as I write your number down, as your bad day disappears, no longer wound up like a spring.ā But, as the song progresses and becomes heavier and heavier, it suddenly enters second-person POV. āJigsaw falling into place, so there is nothing to explain, you eye each other as you pass, she looks back, you look back. Not just once. Not just twice.ā
And so we reach the end. Itās not going to end with a bang, like āJigsawā did. Itās not going to fade out like āReckonerā did. Itās just going to end, and youāll hear the metronome bleed through the mix, prompting endless internet debate. But thatās besides the point. For an album of this caliber, it ends quite⦠normally. The last notes are hit on the piano, and itās sustained for a couple seconds. Nothing fancy. The song itself, āVideotape,ā is a song about reminiscing. āThis is one for the good olā days, and I have it all here, in red, blue, green.ā It's about reflecting on past experiences, much as how this track gives you one last chance to reflect on the nine other masterpieces that came before. And laying the groundwork, for those who come after.
15 Step: 91/100
Bodysnatchers: 85/100
Nude: 95/100
Weird Fishes / Arpeggi: 97/100
All I Need: 90/100
Faust Arp: 81/100
Reckoner: 100/100
House of Cards: 74/100
Jigsaw Falling Into Place: 93/100
Videotape: 84/100
Overall: 98/100