It could be argued that with the release of his first ‘solo’ album Thom Yorke has engineered himself into a lose-lose situation. Unable to go down the road of breaking brazenly free from his routine in a fit of suppressed creativity – mainly because he already had Radiohead do that as a group with 2000’s much celebrated/maligned talking point ‘Kid A’ – he’s left to pursue exploration already explored, perhaps undermining the necessity for its existence and muting the fanfare you’d expect an event such as a solo release from the frontman of one of the world’s most leaning-into-leftfield rock successes to receive. And if he was looking to instead establish himself as an abstract maverick of experimental sonic architecture, guitarist/all round prodigy Johnny Greenwood beat him to it (and still has one over on him) with 2003’s intriguing, dense, conceptual ‘Bodysong’ soundtrack project. Meaning we’re essentially left with what? A single parent ‘Kid A’, without the discipline?
Yes. And of course, no. This doesn’t feel like anything new, but that’s not to say it doesn’t feel sharp at all, fresh or bracing, raising goosebumps on your arms, because it certainly can do. It doesn’t so much as edge out of his comfort zone though, salvaging material apparently conceived in or brought to the table at Radiohead rehearsals and then advanced in partnership with Radiohead producer Nigel Goodrich. The artwork is even familiar in style, assembled as it is by long-time Radiohead artist in residence Stanley Donwood. So it would appear that independence from Radiohead surely can’t be the aim – relax, uber-fans. Perhaps a certain solitude is all he desires, a more private form of expression. If one thing can be attributed as defining this record it is not, as you might expect, the clever electronic clatter, but the firm presence of the man himself.
His vocal is raised very prominently in the mix, perhaps too much on occasion, but by and large it is successful as the central plinth around which all other aspects gather like pixelated moss. The sunken combinations of piano, bass, occasional guitar, minimal beats and ambient textures figure excellently whipping up the impression of claustrophobia and consideration, but they’re incidental aspects. Partly aggrieved ramblings, partly inspired melodic centrepieces, his vocals make or break tracks here, though mostly make. And though they remain characteristically insular, they don’t shy away from full realisation. These songs are far from just fragments or distant glimmering ideas.
A definite peak, ‘Harrowdown Hill’, his comment on the suspicious local death of weapons of mass destruction whistleblower Dr David Kelly, spirals with necessary adrenaline around the crisp refrain: “Don’t ask me, ask the Ministry / We think the same things at the same time…” like a choirboy scorned. ‘The Clock’ does similar over a busy bed of percussion, somewhere between ‘Dollars & Cents’ and ‘Idioteque’, wearing a silencer, and ‘Black Swan’ is probably the closest to Radiohead and could well have been lifted straight off ‘Amnesiac’. What we end up with in reality by the end of these 9 succinct tracks is actually an unequivocal win-win situation. Fans of pre-‘Kid A’ Radiohead can probably rest assured that if he needs an outlet for this kind of expression, chances are they’ve got the guitars out and the amps humming for the next album. While for experimental-‘Heads this really is a satisfyingly complete addendum to that period. Everyone’s a winner – Thom Yorke, the uniter.
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