Hail to the Thief

by

Radiohead

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Thom Yorke has said in recent interviews that Hail to the Thief will be the last album from Radiohead as you know them. Two years from now, he predicted, Radiohead will reemerge completely unrecognizable. Given that Radiohead could release a blank CD and have the world salivate over it, the possibilities of Yorke's prophecy inspire both wonder and fear. Funny that the band's new CD, Hail to the Thief, should do the exact same thing.

Here it is, Radiohead fans - the final cumulative effort from the most original rock band in decades. Thief sounds nothing like The Bends, OK Computer, Kid A, or Amnesiac. Thief sounds everything like The Bends, OK Computer, Kid A, or Amnesiac. It is warm. It is cold. It is accessible. It is inscrutable. It is gorgeous. It is terrifying. It is immediate. It is distant. And, above all else, it is fascinating. For the people (okay, everybody) hoping Radiohead might warm up after their Kid A/Amnesiac double dose of nihilism, Thief does just that. But it does even more. Thief isn't another OK Computer. If you want that, you may want to listen to... OK Computer (that is why it exists in the first place). Instead, Thief is a cohesive mishmash of The Bends' immediacy, OK's layered guitar wails, and Kid A/Amnesiac's electronic gurgling. The critical thing is that Radiohead, as a band, have improved in all those musical approaches, and the result is their most sonically diverse album yet. Looking for proof? Just consult "2+2=5", a slow brooding echo chamber that, midway through, blasts into an electric-guitar fury that sounds like, of all things, a Pearl Jam song. Or try "Sit Down. Stand Up.", a forbidding piano haunter that slowly and sickeningly crescendos into an electronic hailstorm.

Those two songs encapsulate all the power and dread Radiohead can generate, and that's only the first eight minutes of the album. It speaks volumes of Radiohead that Thief is considered a "sunny" album, given that its mood falls just somewhere short of Suicidal. But after the stark minimalism of Kid A/Amnesiac (two records so bleak you practically expected them to create a black hole in the universe), the trace of humanity Radiohead injects into Thief makes all the difference. There's - gasp! - an acoustic song ("Go to Sleep"). And Thief's best song, "A Punch-Up at a Wedding", even dabbles in piano-tinged soul.

What keeps all of Thief's pieces together is Yorke's one-of-a-kind voice. Yorke has always sounded like a ghost from the netherworld, returning to warn you about the evils of mankind. But Kid A and Amnesiac distorted his voice even further, depriving it of its immediacy without adding to its eerie qualities (except on Kid A's title track, the only Radiohead song I personally can't stand). Here, Yorke's voice is more or less left alone, and it accents the texture of both the guitars and the electronic blips and quirks, particularly on companion pieces "The Gloaming" & "Backdrifts".

The band is also allowed to flex their muscles. Freakouts likes "2+2=5" are accompanied by slow crunchers like "There There," the lead single, and elegantly personal songs like "Where I End and You Begin" and "Scatterbrain". There's no lack of experimentation - "Myxomatosis" sounds like an orchestra of giant zippers, and "Wolf at the Door" is Radiohead's first Dylan homage - but all of it is exciting and never off-putting.

One could argue that Thief doesn't contain a signature moment of brilliance, such as "Paranoid Android" or "Pyramid Song". But it's the kind of album that reveals itself to you in new ways every time you listen to it. Overall, it accomplishes the impossible - resurrecting the best of the old while refining the new. And regardless of where they go from here, the one guarantee is that Radiohead will continue to go in directions that inspire surprise and amazement.