Every era has a lullaby for its offspring, and the new millennium has gifted us with an electronic-humanoid suite to lull the brain into an ethereal half-sleep before awakening to an acidic atomic morning.
After the previous and successful "Ok Computer" of '97, the band led by Tom York decides to sharply swerve towards parallel and futuristic worlds: the human mind.
The album, can we call it that?, is a masterpiece-manifesto of what could (but unfortunately is not) the music of the new millennium: melody gives way to synth drones and cyclical electric bass lines, the human voice reaches us fragmented, metallic, in a carriage of dissonant notes of brass, winds, strings, and anything else that might divert the human brain from seeking orthodox musical references.
All the fundamentals of Rock music are abandoned, often there is no rhythm, and if there is, it is a swirling, chemical, dizzying type; the sheet music seems absent, and everyone plays (at least it seems so) a nonexistent score.
Spacious and at the same time bucolic, innovative, dreamy, acidic, unreal: the music of the 2000s... just as it was imagined in the cult sci-fi films of the sixties.
An album for genre enthusiasts, not everyone will understand it on the first listen.
"Kid A sounds like a fogged brain trying to recall a foreign abduction, and it has the effect of numbing it after listening."
"Radiohead stages the crisis of artistic expression and, simultaneously, its rebirth."
The first notes of "Everything In Its Right Place" speak clearly: our minds are overwhelmed by frenzy, phobias, and senseless obsessions.
Close your eyes and open your heart... on the other side, someone is looking for you to take you away from this hell.
That’s when I understood music that transcends all rhetoric, that frees itself from being just music to become a state of the heart.
Thanks to the music of Radiohead, I turned the other cheek, and not only that, to all my cellmates.
Radiohead produce through irradiation up to the bones of the arm, the phenomenon of combustion (sometimes explosion) of the psychological states of the host organism.
Prolonged use is not recommended.
Kid A is a fresco of the postmodern era. The postmodern era is the ice age.
The discordant note is represented by Kid A, an imperfect fruit of industrial production.