Take a quick moment, if you will, and follow me in a little exercise.

STEP 1: Think of one human being that you really love.

STEP 2: Brainstorm all that makes you love this person. Pick them apart like a puzzle, put them back together piece by piece, and try to think of everything you can about them that is meaningful to you. Think of those wonderful qualities that make them shine in your eye like a beautiful, imperfect diamond. Remember the best times you've had together, remember the trials and tribulations, remember the smiles and tears and cheers.

STEP 3: Now imagine this person has been erased from the face of the planet, and now you're the only person who seems to have known they existed at all.

STEP 4: Write a note to them explaining your feelings now that they're gone and the only memories of them exist in your mind. Do this in no more than 20 words.

The art of reducing, minimizing, making a clear, honest, heartfelt, yet meaningful and human statement is an art that seems to defy most. Yet, many of the sweeter moments in life lie in the acts not defined by grandiosity; acts that are profound not for their scope, but for their genuine lack of pretension. I recently talked to someone I hardly knew on the telephone for a lengthy period of time. We talked about social issues, work, beliefs, etc. It was amazing. But what was it about that conversation, of those hours we spent exchanging and soaking up different ideas and thoughts, that left me on such a good note? The closer. It was a typical pleasantry, yet atypical because it was completely, 100% genuine and unforced.

"It was wonderful talking to you."

Nothing incredible about that to you, I'm sure. But I can hardly imagine the conversation with those words deleted.

- - - - -

Of all that Thom Yorke could have said and done on a solo debut album ambitiously titled "The Eraser" -- of all that we would, indeed, expect him to say and do given his career-to-date with that little old British band, Radiohead, and all of the interesting commentary they have made on this upside-down world we're riding on -- we are provided with a cagey effort, intimately exploring the unseen hand that reaches for us all. Yorke's own reach continues to be far and wide; he's just merely extending himself for something a bit different artistically.

Thing is, where post-"Bends" Radiohead masterworks (I could write with zest and vigor five-star reviews for "Kid A", "Amnesiac", and "Hail to the Thief", on top of the "OK Computer" review I've already contributed) were such complex works of art, "The Eraser" showcases the main themes, both sonically and lyrically in a much more succinct fashion. Naturally, going sans band has caused Yorke to further explore the electronic templates that played key roles in his career, post-millinnieum. It's also allowed him (forced him?) to bring a clearer vocal delivery, no matter how stretched the syllables still are; also shows him with clearer lines, a clearer message, and perhaps an even more empathetic one. Where those past 'Head albums were still defiantly art-rock, however, "The Eraser" is best classified as an experimental electronic/pop album. Key to Yorke finding his sound without the other Radiohead boys, the producer behind the post-"Bends" output, Nigel Godrich, is back for "The Eraser". The result is an album rich with ideas and experiments, yet with focused themes, words, and sounds, and always sticking with its purpose.

Evocative, apt piano chords and crisp analog production ring-in the album's title track and picture-perfect opener, with Yorke's signature forceful moans creating the heart-aching, powerful chorus, "The more you try to erase me / The more that I appear". It's a far cry from the confrontational, threatening "Hail to the Thief" opening statement, "You can scream and you can shout, but there's no way out / Because you've not been paying attention", nor is it the, "Intrastellar burst", of "OK Computer"; it retains their tension, however, it's much more vulnerable, also much more soulful, in the vain of Bjork's "Homogenic", and it showcases the difficult themes of this album in a way that's much more aptly reduced than would probably be expected from a very complex body in this musical galaxy. In so many ways, you are set-up for the other eight tracks on "The Eraser" in a most refreshing way.

So then the question is, in how many good ways can Thom Yorke develop his themes, in how many directions will he reach on "The Eraser"? At nine tracks and just over 40 minutes, he reaches in several directions; some with Yorke's patented cautionary tone taking the lead, while a few others take a more surprising approach with Yorke letting his guard down while searching for healing. Best example of the latter is the largely spare (even in context of this album) "Atoms for Peace", a five and a half minute synth-bass-led song where Yorke earnestly pleads, "So many-o-lies, so many-o-lies / So feel the love come off of them and take me in your arms", while also giving us the completely irony-free line pointed at progress, "No more talking about the old days / It's time for something great". Yet, so as not to take lightly the issues at hand, there are songs like "And It Rained All Night", with its harrowing synths and random drumstick clicks, or "Analyse", with its panicky piano and abstract electro-noises behind a tale of the investigator who will never be able to expose the powers that be for what they are for lack of time before he is ceased.

Of all the dark, moody tracks to be found here, though, "Harrowdown Hill" takes the cake for many reasons. The synth drones and simple-but-sharp guitar riff here are among the production highlights of the album and set-up an eerie yet accessible atmosphere for the tale. That tale -- about UN weapons inspector, Dr. David Kelly, who was found dead on Harrowdown Hill, supposedly from "committing suicide", after helping to uncover a political scandal involving the British dossier on Iraq's supposed Weapons of Mass Destruction -- feels dangerous, dark, and hopeless in the most emotionally compelling ways. "Harrowdown Hill" is one of the songs Yorke was always meant to make; there's no need to go searching for reasons to warn the world when true human deception is in your face. It's a real-world example of The Eraser's "unseen" deeds and it backs-up the fears of many tracks here that might just be viewed as "paranoia" from the detractor.

On the flipside, amidst all of his warnings, his path toward being a more well-rounded George Orwell, Yorke finds time to lay-down a bit of an anthem in "Black Swans". Startling lines such as "You cannot kick-start a dead horse, you just crush yourself and walk away / I don't care what the future holds, 'cause I'm right now and I'm today", among a very bangin' beat with aggressive bass and head-nod-worthy percussion, keeps with the themes of "The Eraser", but now as opposed to investigating and combatting the unseen hand directly -- get this -- Yorke is creating an ode to fighting The Eraser by being undeniably here, a band of "black swans", outcasts, who work to make an impact that can never really be deleted.

When you sew it all up on paper -- the warm "Atoms for Peace", the evocative and melancholy title track, the chilly warnings with "Analyse" or "Skip Divided", the almost strangely triumphant "Black Swans", the haunting "Harrowdown Hill", and so on -- "The Eraser" can seem a huge, diverse, complex work. But when you sit and listen, you hear that the pieces interlock and create a picture, however minimal in sounds, however tightly packaged in effective hooks and highlighted statements of importance, that is complete and fully realized. That subject is merely of a hand we cannot see nor can we perceive, which can be pounded in our direction without warning, if we come too close to the truth. How do we fight it and still avoid its wrath? Well, according to Thom Yorke, you may be surprised to hear, the answer seems to be mighty clear and succinct:

Together, never alone.

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"The Eraser". Thom Yorke. 2006. XL.

Recommended: Yes