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New Radiohead album out this Saturday


dbsweeney
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Just listened to Bloom. It was glitchy and dischordant before ratface started singing, then when he did I had to switch it off immediately. I will never understand how people can listen to his godawful fucking caterwauling, but if it make you happy, have at it.

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NEW RADIOHEAD ALBUM: THE FIRST REVIEW

 

Good news for robots who are scared of crossing the road and catching Spanish flu; your poets laureate have returned. Yesterday Radiohead announced they were releasing their new album, The King of Limbs on Saturday. Of course it’ll be heralded as a triumph, but no-one has actually heard it yet. No-one except us that is.

 

Vice are extraordinarily lucky; thanks to Ed O’Brien’s abiding fondness for our Behind The Music column, the Oxford quintet have agreed to offer us sole, unprecedented access to the record – access obtained deep within the bowels of XL’s Ladbroke Grove headquarters, where the only existing promo copy is presently under firm lock and key.

 

Below, we’ve written up a complete track-by-track guide to give you a foretaste of this most salivated-over cultural obelisk.

 

1. INTRO 1

Johnny Greenwood’s lush orchestral opener contains virtually no words, except for a brief refrain at the end, where Thom intones over and over in his most morose vocal: “War. Killed. Me. I. Died. In. A. Big. War.”

 

2. INTRO 2 (INTO THE BATTERY FARM)

“Babies’ eyes/Babies’ eyes/cancer, flies, thyroid pies,” laments Thom, on this beastly overture, reminiscent of “The National Anthem”, or perhaps “Killer Cars”, while Johnny Greenwood plays a timpani with a zither as though the planet’s alternative fuel options depended on it.

 

3. P£T£R P£PP£R

The first of the tracks that Radiohead composed by riffing over whatever was playing on Fearne Cotton’s Live Lounge during that day then erasing the original track, “P£T£R P£PP£R” is Thom’s deeply personal reaction to the events of the banking crisis. It is an angry rant at the 12% per annum depreciation in the value of his Oxford mansion over the past three years, for which he holds Sir Fred Goodwin personally responsible, juxtaposing the dramatic collapse of RBS and a local tableau of his house-selling circumstances.

Key lyric: “Cardboard boxes/Files for the shredder/Did Foxtons call, hon?/End of my tether.”

 

4. THE OBSERVER

Where would the ‘world’s first newspaper album’ be without the ‘world’s first newspaper song’? An interlude similar to “Fitter, Happier…” in which Victoria Coren’s Observer columns are read chronologically by the late WWI Tommy, Harry Patch, over a nine minute slice of “Bieber 800%”.

 

5. TAILBACK ON THE LUNAR EXPRESS

Radiohead’s most challenging composition yet. Consisting in its totality of a single note on an acoustic guitar played in a metronomic four beats to the bar, it reputedly took the group two years just to build the studio set-up that would allow them to create the perfect take, during which time Nigel Godrich had three nervous breakdowns and began hallucinating that he was a tick on the rump of Aztec king Montezuma.

 

6. RAPE ALARM

Like “Nude” on In Rainbows, this is Radiohead stripped bare: a song that will send goose-shivers up your spine, down your aorta, straight into your left ventricle, killing you. Only play if you’re on statins and have a BMI of less than 25.

 

7. CREEP II

A Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps-style updating of the material that first won them fame, “Creep II” is a tender ballad that finds the same character approaching middle-age, reflecting on his traumatic unrequited love, looking her up on Facebook, then expressing a high degree of schadenfreude in finding out that she’s fat, newly divorced from her jock asshole high school sweetheart, working in a call centre for EDF Energy in Stratford, and lists Amy McDonald and The Beatles as her favourite musicians.

 

8. CALLS WILL COST £1 PLUS STANDARD RATE. CALLS FROM MOBILES MAY BE CONSIDERABLY MORE

A hurricane scree of “Idioteque” electronic noise and acid jazz with a bassline sampled from the Fat Albert theme-tune and replayed on a baguette, over which Thom spits his most barbed lyrical darts yet.

Key lyric: “Louis/Liar. Cheryl/Chernobyl. Dannii/Dachau. Simon/Srebrenica. Pouty face/Cross face. Backstory/Sob story. Red tops/Top off. Best bits/Montage. Black one/Gay one/Old one/Comedy one. Vote me off/Lead me on/Put. Me. Down.”

 

9. FML

A clear marker that the Oxford quintet have been keeping pace with the most cutting-edge music of the Twentieth Century, this is a gloopy, ethereal noisespace that sounds like Burial jamming with M Ward in a nightbus at the bottom of the Thames on a mixing desk made of ennui and marmalade. Lyrically, the Iraq Inquiry comes under Thom’s microscope as he contrasts Tony Blair’s testimony with the sex scenes glimpsed in his memoir, A Journey, and directly addresses Cheri Blair.

Key lyric: “Mrs, how did your huge mouth kiss his lips that lied?/Did you moan as the Iraqi children cried?”

 

10. OUTRO II (INTRO)

As a stuttering, almost tango beat builds from wafts of diaphanous electronic noise in the background, three minor chords ring out insistently on a grand piano, and a single cello etches a heartbreakingly rich, redolent tattoo of warm, regretful passions, over which Thom Yorke sings about how much he loves pussy.

Key lyric: “Pussy. Pussy. Pussy/Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

Slap dat, lick dat, split dat, spit dat.

Girl your coochie get so moist/I ain’t got no other choice.

Big ones small ones fat ones thin ones/Don’t give a fuck/Long as I’m in one.”

 

Instant verdict?

Another classic: one that marries the taut electronica of Pablo Honey with the anthemic Britpop belters of Kid A and the complex prog of The Bends. A radical reinvention that fuses timeless langour with post-modern darkness over towering ziggurat electronica. It is a quantum leap; in the sense that it transplants you inside the body of a West Virginia stripper in 1967 who has to solve her brother’s murder with the help of a computer called Ziggy. Innovative use of physical product… saving record industry… blah… reluctant stars… contrarians… pioneers… Godrich, their fifth Beatle… still ahead of the curve… blah shellfish… Glastonbury… picnic… shoes… bus… car crashes… Global warning… more than just an album… etc.

 

http://www.viceland.com/music/2011/02/new-...e-first-review/

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NEW RADIOHEAD ALBUM: THE FIRST REVIEW

 

Good news for robots who are scared of crossing the road and catching Spanish flu; your poets laureate have returned. Yesterday Radiohead announced they were releasing their new album, The King of Limbs on Saturday. Of course it'll be heralded as a triumph, but no-one has actually heard it yet. No-one except us that is.

 

Vice are extraordinarily lucky; thanks to Ed O'Brien's abiding fondness for our Behind The Music column, the Oxford quintet have agreed to offer us sole, unprecedented access to the record – access obtained deep within the bowels of XL's Ladbroke Grove headquarters, where the only existing promo copy is presently under firm lock and key.

 

Below, we've written up a complete track-by-track guide to give you a foretaste of this most salivated-over cultural obelisk.

 

1. INTRO 1

Johnny Greenwood's lush orchestral opener contains virtually no words, except for a brief refrain at the end, where Thom intones over and over in his most morose vocal: "War. Killed. Me. I. Died. In. A. Big. War."

 

2. INTRO 2 (INTO THE BATTERY FARM)

"Babies' eyes/Babies' eyes/cancer, flies, thyroid pies," laments Thom, on this beastly overture, reminiscent of "The National Anthem", or perhaps "Killer Cars", while Johnny Greenwood plays a timpani with a zither as though the planet's alternative fuel options depended on it.

 

3. P£T£R P£PP£R

The first of the tracks that Radiohead composed by riffing over whatever was playing on Fearne Cotton's Live Lounge during that day then erasing the original track, "P£T£R P£PP£R" is Thom's deeply personal reaction to the events of the banking crisis. It is an angry rant at the 12% per annum depreciation in the value of his Oxford mansion over the past three years, for which he holds Sir Fred Goodwin personally responsible, juxtaposing the dramatic collapse of RBS and a local tableau of his house-selling circumstances.

Key lyric: "Cardboard boxes/Files for the shredder/Did Foxtons call, hon?/End of my tether."

 

4. THE OBSERVER

Where would the 'world's first newspaper album' be without the 'world's first newspaper song'? An interlude similar to "Fitter, Happier…" in which Victoria Coren's Observer columns are read chronologically by the late WWI Tommy, Harry Patch, over a nine minute slice of "Bieber 800%".

 

5. TAILBACK ON THE LUNAR EXPRESS

Radiohead's most challenging composition yet. Consisting in its totality of a single note on an acoustic guitar played in a metronomic four beats to the bar, it reputedly took the group two years just to build the studio set-up that would allow them to create the perfect take, during which time Nigel Godrich had three nervous breakdowns and began hallucinating that he was a tick on the rump of Aztec king Montezuma.

 

6. RAPE ALARM

Like "Nude" on In Rainbows, this is Radiohead stripped bare: a song that will send goose-shivers up your spine, down your aorta, straight into your left ventricle, killing you. Only play if you're on statins and have a BMI of less than 25.

 

7. CREEP II

A Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps-style updating of the material that first won them fame, "Creep II" is a tender ballad that finds the same character approaching middle-age, reflecting on his traumatic unrequited love, looking her up on Facebook, then expressing a high degree of schadenfreude in finding out that she's fat, newly divorced from her jock asshole high school sweetheart, working in a call centre for EDF Energy in Stratford, and lists Amy McDonald and The Beatles as her favourite musicians.

 

8. CALLS WILL COST £1 PLUS STANDARD RATE. CALLS FROM MOBILES MAY BE CONSIDERABLY MORE

A hurricane scree of "Idioteque" electronic noise and acid jazz with a bassline sampled from the Fat Albert theme-tune and replayed on a baguette, over which Thom spits his most barbed lyrical darts yet.

Key lyric: "Louis/Liar. Cheryl/Chernobyl. Dannii/Dachau. Simon/Srebrenica. Pouty face/Cross face. Backstory/Sob story. Red tops/Top off. Best bits/Montage. Black one/Gay one/Old one/Comedy one. Vote me off/Lead me on/Put. Me. Down."

 

9. FML

A clear marker that the Oxford quintet have been keeping pace with the most cutting-edge music of the Twentieth Century, this is a gloopy, ethereal noisespace that sounds like Burial jamming with M Ward in a nightbus at the bottom of the Thames on a mixing desk made of ennui and marmalade. Lyrically, the Iraq Inquiry comes under Thom's microscope as he contrasts Tony Blair's testimony with the sex scenes glimpsed in his memoir, A Journey, and directly addresses Cheri Blair.

Key lyric: "Mrs, how did your huge mouth kiss his lips that lied?/Did you moan as the Iraqi children cried?"

 

10. OUTRO II (INTRO)

As a stuttering, almost tango beat builds from wafts of diaphanous electronic noise in the background, three minor chords ring out insistently on a grand piano, and a single cello etches a heartbreakingly rich, redolent tattoo of warm, regretful passions, over which Thom Yorke sings about how much he loves pussy.

Key lyric: "Pussy. Pussy. Pussy/Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

Slap dat, lick dat, split dat, spit dat.

Girl your coochie get so moist/I ain't got no other choice.

Big ones small ones fat ones thin ones/Don't give a fuck/Long as I'm in one."

 

Instant verdict?

Another classic: one that marries the taut electronica of Pablo Honey with the anthemic Britpop belters of Kid A and the complex prog of The Bends. A radical reinvention that fuses timeless langour with post-modern darkness over towering ziggurat electronica. It is a quantum leap; in the sense that it transplants you inside the body of a West Virginia stripper in 1967 who has to solve her brother's murder with the help of a computer called Ziggy. Innovative use of physical product… saving record industry… blah… reluctant stars… contrarians… pioneers… Godrich, their fifth Beatle… still ahead of the curve… blah shellfish… Glastonbury… picnic… shoes… bus… car crashes… Global warning… more than just an album… etc.

 

http://www.viceland.com/music/2011/02/new-...e-first-review/

 

Fantastic stuff.

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Really feeling the album to be honest - As much as i love radiohead i was worried it was gonna stink up the place but it's growing on me a lot easier than i thought it would - lower expectations maybe?

Also that Lotus Flower video is ridiculous, could not stop laughing at it! Who cares about whether it was intentional or not!

 

Anybody else seen some of the 'parody' mash ups going around yet?

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Not listened to it all yet but heard about half of is so far and I'm utterly loving it straight away. Pablo Honey is only decent but I've loved everything else they've done so I expected nothing else. Best band in the world by a million miles, they keep trying new things and keep making them work. Great stuff.

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NEW RADIOHEAD ALBUM: THE FIRST REVIEW

 

Good news for robots who are scared of crossing the road and catching Spanish flu; your poets laureate have returned. Yesterday Radiohead announced they were releasing their new album, The King of Limbs on Saturday. Of course it'll be heralded as a triumph, but no-one has actually heard it yet. No-one except us that is.

 

Vice are extraordinarily lucky; thanks to Ed O'Brien's abiding fondness for our Behind The Music column, the Oxford quintet have agreed to offer us sole, unprecedented access to the record – access obtained deep within the bowels of XL's Ladbroke Grove headquarters, where the only existing promo copy is presently under firm lock and key.

 

Below, we've written up a complete track-by-track guide to give you a foretaste of this most salivated-over cultural obelisk.

 

1. INTRO 1

Johnny Greenwood's lush orchestral opener contains virtually no words, except for a brief refrain at the end, where Thom intones over and over in his most morose vocal: "War. Killed. Me. I. Died. In. A. Big. War."

 

2. INTRO 2 (INTO THE BATTERY FARM)

"Babies' eyes/Babies' eyes/cancer, flies, thyroid pies," laments Thom, on this beastly overture, reminiscent of "The National Anthem", or perhaps "Killer Cars", while Johnny Greenwood plays a timpani with a zither as though the planet's alternative fuel options depended on it.

 

3. P£T£R P£PP£R

The first of the tracks that Radiohead composed by riffing over whatever was playing on Fearne Cotton's Live Lounge during that day then erasing the original track, "P£T£R P£PP£R" is Thom's deeply personal reaction to the events of the banking crisis. It is an angry rant at the 12% per annum depreciation in the value of his Oxford mansion over the past three years, for which he holds Sir Fred Goodwin personally responsible, juxtaposing the dramatic collapse of RBS and a local tableau of his house-selling circumstances.

Key lyric: "Cardboard boxes/Files for the shredder/Did Foxtons call, hon?/End of my tether."

 

4. THE OBSERVER

Where would the 'world's first newspaper album' be without the 'world's first newspaper song'? An interlude similar to "Fitter, Happier…" in which Victoria Coren's Observer columns are read chronologically by the late WWI Tommy, Harry Patch, over a nine minute slice of "Bieber 800%".

 

5. TAILBACK ON THE LUNAR EXPRESS

Radiohead's most challenging composition yet. Consisting in its totality of a single note on an acoustic guitar played in a metronomic four beats to the bar, it reputedly took the group two years just to build the studio set-up that would allow them to create the perfect take, during which time Nigel Godrich had three nervous breakdowns and began hallucinating that he was a tick on the rump of Aztec king Montezuma.

 

6. RAPE ALARM

Like "Nude" on In Rainbows, this is Radiohead stripped bare: a song that will send goose-shivers up your spine, down your aorta, straight into your left ventricle, killing you. Only play if you're on statins and have a BMI of less than 25.

 

7. CREEP II

A Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps-style updating of the material that first won them fame, "Creep II" is a tender ballad that finds the same character approaching middle-age, reflecting on his traumatic unrequited love, looking her up on Facebook, then expressing a high degree of schadenfreude in finding out that she's fat, newly divorced from her jock asshole high school sweetheart, working in a call centre for EDF Energy in Stratford, and lists Amy McDonald and The Beatles as her favourite musicians.

 

8. CALLS WILL COST £1 PLUS STANDARD RATE. CALLS FROM MOBILES MAY BE CONSIDERABLY MORE

A hurricane scree of "Idioteque" electronic noise and acid jazz with a bassline sampled from the Fat Albert theme-tune and replayed on a baguette, over which Thom spits his most barbed lyrical darts yet.

Key lyric: "Louis/Liar. Cheryl/Chernobyl. Dannii/Dachau. Simon/Srebrenica. Pouty face/Cross face. Backstory/Sob story. Red tops/Top off. Best bits/Montage. Black one/Gay one/Old one/Comedy one. Vote me off/Lead me on/Put. Me. Down."

 

9. FML

A clear marker that the Oxford quintet have been keeping pace with the most cutting-edge music of the Twentieth Century, this is a gloopy, ethereal noisespace that sounds like Burial jamming with M Ward in a nightbus at the bottom of the Thames on a mixing desk made of ennui and marmalade. Lyrically, the Iraq Inquiry comes under Thom's microscope as he contrasts Tony Blair's testimony with the sex scenes glimpsed in his memoir, A Journey, and directly addresses Cheri Blair.

Key lyric: "Mrs, how did your huge mouth kiss his lips that lied?/Did you moan as the Iraqi children cried?"

 

10. OUTRO II (INTRO)

As a stuttering, almost tango beat builds from wafts of diaphanous electronic noise in the background, three minor chords ring out insistently on a grand piano, and a single cello etches a heartbreakingly rich, redolent tattoo of warm, regretful passions, over which Thom Yorke sings about how much he loves pussy.

Key lyric: "Pussy. Pussy. Pussy/Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

Slap dat, lick dat, split dat, spit dat.

Girl your coochie get so moist/I ain't got no other choice.

Big ones small ones fat ones thin ones/Don't give a fuck/Long as I'm in one."

 

Instant verdict?

Another classic: one that marries the taut electronica of Pablo Honey with the anthemic Britpop belters of Kid A and the complex prog of The Bends. A radical reinvention that fuses timeless langour with post-modern darkness over towering ziggurat electronica. It is a quantum leap; in the sense that it transplants you inside the body of a West Virginia stripper in 1967 who has to solve her brother's murder with the help of a computer called Ziggy. Innovative use of physical product… saving record industry… blah… reluctant stars… contrarians… pioneers… Godrich, their fifth Beatle… still ahead of the curve… blah shellfish… Glastonbury… picnic… shoes… bus… car crashes… Global warning… more than just an album… etc.

 

http://www.viceland.com/music/2011/02/new-...e-first-review/

 

Fantastic stuff.

 

No.3 is the funniest. :D

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Listened a few times over now. Not what I expected with it's eerie abstract sound. But, certainly a grower and tracks like Codex I think will make this another hit in time.

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What was good about OK Computer was how it sounded like nothing they'd done before and like the future of rock.

 

What was good about Kid A was how it sounded like nothing they'd done before and like the future of rock.

 

What was good about Amnesiac was it followed so soon on the heels of Kid A and was more of that great new sound.

 

What was good about Hail To The Theif was it followed relatively soon on the heels of Amnesiac and they sounded confident as fuck as the only people doing this stuff and that they were enjoying it.

 

What concerned me about In Rainbows is that they took 4 years to get it out there and it was still more of the same, they hadn't used the time for another change in direction, they'd just about managed another one. It never grabbed me like the previous 4.

 

And again with King of Limbs. I'm four tracks in and 4 years after the last album anything on here so far wouldn't have been out of place on In Rainbows. It's their shortest album ever by all accounts and they don't sound to be excited by the possiblities of what they're doing. Just switch the drum machine to another wierd beat and repeat to fade.

 

Time for a reggae album.

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