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One of the most
difficult things about being a music critic is to detach "the
me" from the music I am criticizing. Leaving all preconceived
notions at the front door with my coat and my umbrella. Hovering
above the song and looking at it from a distance, judging it in its
own merit like a critical airplane flying over an aural landscape.
And moreover, I sometimes wonder how can I realistically and
objectively approach music by certain musicians when I am already
convinced that I will love it because I have always loved what they
have done. And before I even purchase (or download) the album I know
that I will be impressed just as you are sure to enjoy a meal
in your favorite restaurant.
Is that problematic?
Does that make me any less trustworthy as a critic? In most
instances, I would say that yes, perhaps it does. Perhaps you should
listen to someone more skeptical and cynical. Someone who is not so
easily sold.
But in the case of
Radiohead, that is virtually impossible. Because they always have
and always will meet our expectations. And in some cases, even
surpass them.
 On
Thursday June 5th, 2003 Radiohead came to New York City and played
the Beacon Theater, the smallest venue we're likely to see them in
nowadays. That same night, the Jewish people celebrated Shavuot, the
holiday that commemorated the day we received our Torah thousands
upon thousands of years ago on Mt. Sinai. I personally was offered a
free ticket and was tremendously conflicted about going but I turned
the ticket down (I later realized that I wasn't even in town for the
show). What was it about this band that made me think about--for a
split second-- compromising an undying tradition for what I thought
to be a historic show? Why was this performance almost as inspiring
as re-enacting the beginning of my religion (I realize the
blasphemous nature of this statement and for that I apologize)? I
have been thinking about this a great deal; why a collective of five
media-shy, unapproachable Englishmen "speak" to me as
powerfully as Radiohead does?
I have wrestled with
the aforementioned questions, making them beg for mercy, because I
want to verbalize my appreciation for Radiohead and I want others to
share it with me. I finally want my friends to admit that I’m not
as crazy as they thought I was and that there really is much to get
inspired and excited by. I want them to trust me because I am
telling them to starting listening for their own good. This is
important just like vitamins.
[Deep breath] Now, how
do I verbalize the passion and the fury? How do I communicate to you
the thrill of being a die-hard Radiohead fan so you too will say, I
want in. I’m with you, Arye.
Well, hopefully like this: (Enter presumptuous, sweeping
statement here) There is no band like Radiohead existing in our
time. Yes, there were bands like Pink Floyd, the Beatles, even U2
(remember when ACHTUNG BABY reinvented the radio?) but no one is
testing the limits like Radiohead is within our plateau of mass
culture. No band is pushing the envelope, sending a letter of
mind-numbing creativity to the masses like these guys are. Their
uncompromising artistry is admired by all, envied by most and
disliked by few.
 Two
months ago, their new album, which is released officially on June
10th, was leaked on the Internet. For thousands of fervent fans this
was like getting a sneak peak at your Chanukah presents. The gift is
not yours yet to own but you still know what you'll be getting. And
that is satisfying enough (buying the album is still necessary
because Radiohead's artwork is part of the package and makes the
album worth purchasing). I downloaded the album, HAIL TO THE THEIF,
almost immediately and listened to it over and over again. I loved
it. I absorbed. I took it in like a bottle of water after running a
marathon. It was everything I wanted them to give me. Almost as if
they showed up to my apartment months ago and said, Arye, what is it
that you want to hear?
And over these two
months, while I have been dissecting the instruments, the words, the
paintings of sounds, I played Devil's Advocate to my ears accusing
them of liking HTTT because simply enough, it was by Radiohead.
Because I've never disliked anything this band has produced. Not
their first album, PABLO HONEY, a raw, "alternative,"
radio-friendly and certainly inoffensive effort. Not their second
timeless and first masterpiece, THE BENDS, which still gives me the
chills. Nor the following record, OK COMPUTER, which is an
unadulterated trip into paranoia, insecurity, self-analysis and also
their second masterpiece. This album will never cease to amaze me,
sort of like a loved one that you fall more in love with every time
you see her/him. And then came the double punch of experimental
wonderment, KID A and AMNESIAC, which angered some because it was
less consistent with their previous efforts. I loved them because
they felt like reading diary entries. They were personal, whispered
into my ear, almost gossipy. I wanted to hear more but I also felt
guilty about hearing it in the first place. These were songs that
not everyone could understand but maybe it was because so many did
not speak the language. Like a witch hunt of our time, Radiohead was
accused of being difficult, trying to test the patience of the
public and no one wanted to hear the rational explanation. They were
merely saying, you all bought our last album. Well, we need to
progress. And here are two that will challenge you. Are you up to
it, they asked?
I enthusiastically
responded, YES! YES! I am!
Well, rejoice you of
the sensitive ear! HTTT is the happy compromise of handholding and
the frustrating refusal to be "commercial" that you've
been waiting for. It's almost as if Radiohead was accutely aware of
all the fans turned off by KID A and AMNESIAC and was saying,
seriously, we're sorry about all that. We needed to get it out of
our system but please come back. Please play this album in your dorm
rooms while sitting on your Urban Outfitters couch.
The first song
"2+2=5" is an inspiring beginning. It's a four part epic
masterpiece in four and a half minutes. It starts out with a wounded
gentle Thom Yorke singing you into a lull of security. A minute and
a half in, it stops, and things get eerie. A sunny day transformed
into a dark cloudy gloom. And then two minutes and four seconds in,
guitars explode like an unrelenting thunderstorm, crashing in on our
feeble heads, a toxic rain that so many of us New Yorkers know too
well. Following that, the rain becomes consistent and we are no
longer afraid to step outside. We embrace the rain. We even open our
mouths to taste the drops.
And again, that is
just the first song.
As the album
progresses, we hear "Sail To The Moon" which feels exactly
like the titular activity. The scented-candle-like sway of the
guitar and the piano bring you close to the lunar landscape. This
could be what an astronaut feels like when gravity denies him a simple
activity such as walking on the ground. Thom Yorke's voice is
floating and you are floating along with it. It is beauty incarnate.
It’s the Rose Planetarium that wants to be heard and not seen.
The most accessible
songs, the ones that are like caffeine for the heart or chicken soup
for the soulless, "There There" and "Where I End And
You Begin,” are epitomes of imposing feelings into music. In the
hey-day of pop and Matrixes (the songwriting team that brought you
Avril Lavigne), it’s so spring-day-glorious to hear urgency in
music, to feel what it is like to be wounded just by listening. When
Yorke “sings at the conclusion of “Where I End…” “I will
eat you alive…there’ll be no more lies,” you understand the
pain of being lied to. You relate to his frustration with being
deceived. The song helps you conjure a time when you also wanted to
eat someone alive for making you feel like the object of such
malicious betrayal.
“There There,” the
first single off this album, interestingly enough is a massive
statement by the band. “Just ‘cause you feel it, doesn’t mean
it’s there…” may be a response to the accusatory media
that’s bestowed so much political relevance to this album (the
band denies that HAIL TO THE THIEF is alluding the George Bush). Or
it could be the frustration felt by a band that has been put on the
highest of pedestals for creating epic, grand art and ambiguous
lyrics that many misinterpret. Whatever the statement is, though,
the song with its muddy-consistent rhythm sections drudges along
like a dinosaur looking for dinner. It’s hungry, wanting, vicious
and plodding.
Despite the rumors
awhile back, HTTT is not a rocking album. It has its rocking moments
but overall it’s neither bombastic nor spastic. It just maintains
the self-conscious weirdness that has made Radiohead so endearing in
the past. The band that is aware of its quirks and it is sort-of
fine with that.
But what makes this
band and album so revelatory is that every member is a genius at
what he does. Guitarist Johnny Greenwood is the Jackson Pollock of
the six-string, randomly throwing colorful strokes that make a
beautiful finished product, a work of chaos that from a distance
seems so logical. Drummer, Phil Selway is the unsung, or unheard,
hero that carries the others out of the burning building. He saves
lives and songs. Ed O’Brian, the other guitarist and tallest
member of the band, is the balance to Johnny’s insanity. The two
of them together create a penetration of the ears and mind that know
no mercy or restraint. And the most enigmatic member, Colin
Greenwood (Johnny’s brother) is the foundation of the haunted
house that is Radiohead. Many will call Radiohead Yorke’s band but
on repeated listens, that is far from the truth. While Yorke is an
invaluable singer, he is only one-fifth of the pleasure.
And in truth, I could
explain Radiohead’s sound and their new album for hours and hours
more (that is the kind of discourse they inspire) but the only thing
that would make you truly understand is by listening to the album
yourself. Because it is an experience. It’s one of those,
well-you-had-to-be-there’s.
Chances are you’ve
already read a great deal of press on them being that they’ve
graced just about every publication in recent weeks. And unlike a lot of
times where magazines and papers are desperately looking for
something—anything—to talk about, Radiohead deserves the insane
coverage. Because they are the most exhilarating thing happening in
music today. Honest. No exaggeration.
Moreover, while a
“music critic” like me has heard more music than any person
should be subjected to, and while I have seen so many live shows
that have left me with a that-was-ok feeling, Radiohead still makes
me weak at the knees. Like I was a high school girl encountering her
first crush. And when that is still possible, after I’ve become so
jaded and have evolved into a self-declared know-it-all, it’s a
refreshing glass of naively-made curbside lemonade. It is something
that will excite me, entrance me, inspire me, make me feel like the
world has yet revealed so many wonders and gifts to me. Listening to
them is transformative. Yes, it’s that dramatic. It’s that
real and lovely.
It’s even, dare I
say it, somewhat religious.
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To read more from Arye Dworken, check out his new personal
website www.bringbacksincerity.com
Send your comments to Arye at theadwiz@aol.com;
 Readers
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