For six years now, fans of dejected Oxfordshire scamps Radiohead have sought to uncover the identity of this elusive Kid A.

At my school, Grotty Comprehensive in the town of Grump-on-Whine, Kid A was always David Aaron. With his name first on the class register, this blessed sod was first for EVERYTHING. He got first dibs on the climbing frame. He got to handle the big saws in Craft Class before we all did. He was first to commit arson in the tuck shop. He was first to embezzle funds from the PTA and serve two-to-five in juvenile hall. He was first to kill and eat a mollusc. Yes… he was first at truly everything!

What does this have to do with Radiohead? Well… asides from my glib literal interpretation of the title, very little. It was rather petulant of you to ask, actually. Well… it is unlikely David would have taken to this album. The blacker than black soundscapes and lugubrious atonality offered as “music of the future” on Kid A would not sit well next to his collection of Pato Banton LPs. Who remembers “Bubblin’ Hot?”

Kid A was met with critical opprobrium and adulation when it was released in 2001 with its sister piece Amnesiac, reviewed earlier this afternoon by me (aren’t I tedious?) Some kindergarten friends of mine from the local brat-dump remarked the following:

Nigel (aged 3): “It casts a Sisyphean gloom over the listener to such an overbearing extent, he is left lost inside this black canvas of unrelenting rue – in the most archaic sense of the word – and it envelops the neurons in his brain; inducing within him a sort of neuropathological joie de vivre in all its sadness; spreading into a type of inter-cranial Weltschmerz; rather akin to being treated with electro-shock therapy for manic depression… and loving it.”
Theresa (aged 32): “I liked Treefingers.”

The Music

I was unsure what to expect with this album. So when the woodland synthesisers of Everything In Its Right Place struck up, abounding with cavernous menace and futuristic foreboding, and the warped tape loops of Thom Yorke entered to little fanfare, I was a tad surprised. Perhaps I was even delighted. For this schizophrenic piece was perched just on the right side of paranoid, world-weary mania for my liking, and a warm smile came across my face a moment after it ended. Radiohead are back, I thought, staring into the darkness of my fetid soul…

The title track, Kid A, suggested to me that solution for the next generation of humankind was to build a bomb shelter in which to hide until the dawn of the new world order. This squished lullaby from outer space is like a Stanley Kubrick vision of paradise being spoilt by a hellish Kafkaesque nightmare; but one from a far and distant cosmos. A little piece of my soul got lost in the ambient universe of this song one night…

The National Anthem is all repetitive guitar menace and swirling macabre fright, with the St. John’s Orchestra blowing us into the nightmare of the next world via kick horns. This is a ghoulish rave-up in which all are invited to dance with a sombre quick-step into the bowels of hell. Did I love it? Am I going to get negative about Radiohead? Unlikely, my friends.

How To Disappear Completely is an ambient piece for the most part, working the suicidal dirge of Thom Yorke’s guitar and vocals into the mix for a spirit-draining six minutes. It is a hopeless drift down the Liffey river (East Ireland), washing the listener deep into the gloomiest caverns of his sadness via funereal synths and miserable string arrangements. An elegant but challenging piece of classical woefulness.

Treefingers is an ambient dirge. No time for it. Sorry, Theresa.

Optimistic begins the “squished music” portion of the album where all instruments appeared to have been crammed into a small corner of the mix in favour of the vocals and weirder elements. This has a catchier rock melody afoot, with a doomed mantra chorus in fitting with the band’s despondent aura. In Limbo is distinctly bizarre, perhaps the most hopeful piece on the album with its major key plonking and moments of light respite amid the soul-destroying gloom. What is Yorke singing about? Best not to ask.

Idioteque and Morning Bell make greater use of the drum machine and are both intriguing experiments that uncover this “urban gothic” side of the band (later refined on subsequent albums, see review links below). The former features esoteric samples from Paul Lansky and Arthur Kreiger which is rather pleasing to know.

Closer Motion Picture Soundtrack is a sluggish mope festival with Yorke crawling out of his airtight little hole to complain about the stench of his wretched life. When it ends there is a gap, and then further bizarre things happen after two minutes, most of which are scarier when heard in the dead of night with prowlers outside…

Just listening to Kid A again for the purposes of this review, it is obvious that this record has no universal or mass market appeal whatsoever. It is as leftfield as any contemporary rock record could hope to be. This does not make it unfavourable. Quite the opposite. Although I feel Amnesiac holds more emotional resonance and that these tracks are too aloof and impenetrable to connect with the listener, as a brave stab at alienating their entire listenership, Radiohead have succeeded instead in captivating them. These two albums are impossible to listen to without antidepressants and a hotline to the Samaritans, but in small doses, they are no less than audacious and avant-garde masterpieces.

In Rainbows (2007)
Com Lag (2plus2isfive) (2004)
Hail To The Thief (2003)
I Might Be Wrong – Live Recordings (2001)
Amnesiac (2001)

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Waking up