Radiohead |
While The King of Limbs reveals more of the band’s influences than ever before—early reviews have cited affinities with the work of young gun experimentalists Burial, James Blake, and Yorke collaborator Flying Lotus, while there are more than a few traces of the signature moves from those in its original peer group, including Bjork’s pop electronics, Tortoise’s post-rock, and the space-rock transmissions of mid-1990s Too Pure acts Laika and Moonshake—Radiohead has remained first among equals for the longest time because everything from the finest musical details to the most sweeping technical innovations are at the service of a larger mission the band has never lost sight of. As with anything that’s trying to do something bigger and better, lessons of that magnitude can take more time to sink in, definitely longer than the handful of hours we’ve had to absorb what The King of Limbs might be all about. In that sense, the jury is still out on The King of Limbs and that’s because there’s always something more to Radiohead.
The King of Limbs is a beautiful record, one that begs more of a conscious listen than its predecessor, but one that provides equal—if different—thrills in doing so. Though it seems strange and restrained on the first several spins, there are signs apparent that Radiohead do not record in an isometric chamber, sealed vacuum-tight. Elements crop up in all corners that set The King of Limbs at least partially into a narrative of popular turn-of-the-decade sounds. Touches of the woozy beats of Flying Lotus (though less frenetic) and the cyborg R&B of James Blake (though, well, more frenetic) come to mind right away, hinting at Radiohead’s comfortable place on the edges of contemporary electronic music. Of course, the most apt reference point for a Radiohead album always seems to be, yes, Radiohead. The King of Limbs has the band reinvestigating their love of computer-driven music, but it never sounds stale or reheated.
Sources: http://www.popmatters.com