In Rainbows.
A brief hiatus and the launch of Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood’s solo careers followed the previous Radiohead release, 2003’s Hail to the Thief; yet here we are, four years later, and the Oxfordshire outfit have produced their most personal record to date. The self-released In Rainbows begins with the sharp break-core of “15 Step”, with Yorke likening a failed relationship to an execution, before transitioning to the JMC-ish groovy noise-pop of “Bodysnatchers” that, given the band’s experiences with record labels at the time, could be interpreted as a critique of the vampiric music industry of 2007 (luckily a lot has changed in the intervening years *coughs suspiciously*). In Rainbows is an eclectic mix of genres and themes: the eerily beautiful, melancholic flow of “Nude”, the dreamy art-rock anthem “Reckoner”, the pure sensory attack that is “House of Cards”, before closing on the heartbreaking, regret-filled, minimalist piano ballad, “Videotape”. Don’t let the unique “pay-what-you-want” marketing gimmick, or the departure and subsequent re-introduction of long-time producer and collaborator Nigel Godrich, detract from what could possibly be the best Radiohead album to date.
Boxer.
“More of The National again soon please.” Ask and ye shall receive; the third album by the indie rockers on this blog, and yet again it’s an absolute corker. Matt Beringer’s melancholy is still rife in this one, though the instrumentation surrounding his often monotonic vocals would have you believe otherwise: “Fake Empire” begins Boxer and sets the tone for what is to come, a piano ballad that builds energy and momentum, with Beringer musing on the folly of youth. This theme of aging and change recurs throughout Boxer: the noisy “Mistaken” tells the bleak story of a young person, desperate for success and fame, who, in their desperation, has become unrecognisable from their younger self; in the acoustic, folk track “Green Gloves”, Beringer embodies a character who no longer recognises his friends in adulthood and attempts to see the world from their perspective, but ultimately disconnects as they cannot do the same; his soothing baritone on the folky “Slow Show” is filled with regret and anxiety, as he comes to the conclusion that his life is not at all as he was expecting when he was a child. Probably ranked third out of the three The National albums I’ve listened to so far, but that is by no means a criticism, the bar is just that high.
Untrue.
With their identity still a mystery, Burial follows 2006’s self-titled debut with yet another seminal album; the effect of which will been seen in dubstep, garage, hardcore, ambient, …, for years to come. After the untitled intro track, the album kicks off with possibly the highlight of the record: “Archangel”, a complex, multi-layered rave track, so atmospheric it throws the listener into a packed warehouse, where the walls and floor throb with noise; yet despite the surrounding heave, loneliness and isolation remains. This auditory reality is felt most strongly on the only single released from Untrue, “Ghost Hardware”, as the listener is sent walking through a deserted, rain-soaked, lamp-lit South London street, picking up snippets of sound from far off radios. It is quite simply baffling to me how someone can create something like this. We’re not talking about a student messing around with a drum machine; every crackle, every sample, every rain drop is thought out, the craftsmanship that has gone into producing this record is astounding.
Fear of a Blank Planet.
While the album which Porcupine Tree reference in the title of their ninth album, Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet, “explored themes of institutional racism, white supremacy and miscegenation” (see the 1990 blog post for the unbelievable, uncensored, unabridged review), Fear of a Blank Planet weaves a single narrative of the life of a bored, numb teenager wasting their life away as they suffers from dissociation having been corrupted by MTV, prescription pills and video games. Steven Wilson’s vocals contain the same softness and sentiment as Elliott Smith, while the production ensures his lyrics are always audible, stressing the importance of their underlying meaning. The instrumentation behind Wilson is a masterful combination of grunge, noise, math rock, prog and metal, with some rather unsettling soundscapes composed by Robert Fripp of King Crimson on the track “Way Out”, while Rush’s Alex Lifeson enjoys an extended guitar solo in the 18-minute epic “Anesthetize”. A scarily accurate depiction of 21st century youth; musically and technically brilliant too. I simply am not here.
Volta.
After a stream of heavily political and deeply personal records (including 2001’s previously reviewed Vespertine), Björk’s sixth international album, Volta, is a much more fun addition to her already diverse discography. Collaborating with Björk for the first time is one of the most influential producers of the decade in Timbaland, though Volta is far from a generic pop record. Electronica, still in her repertoire from the Vespertine days, again makes an appearance here on the bleak, destructive, tribal “Earth Intruders”, the anarchic, techno-punk call-to-revolution, “Declare Independence”, as well as the dubstepish escapist fantasy of “Wanderlust”. There are welcome changes of pace to these barrages of sound: the minimalist duet “Dull Flame of Desire” and the pair of tranquil love songs for her daughter “I See Who You Are” and “My Juvenile”. A nautical theme flows through Volta, with running water and horns aplenty; just sit back and let this album wash over you.
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