9.7 out of 10
If In Rainbows saw Radiohead return to Earth with some if their most organic and lush music in a decade, then The King Of Limbs is an album about transition.
First of all, lets address the gripe about the album’s length. At 38 minutes, it is the shortest album in the group’s collection, however it’s only 5 minutes shorter than Amnesiac. Yes, the album zips by, but it still leaves its mark on you.
“Bloom” is one of the more notable Radiohead album openers, the song literally unfolding with looped pianos and an incredible focus on Phil Selway’s tumbling beat, set in a vast landscape of keys, strings and horns. Who knew Thom Yorke and Rufus Wainwright could sound alike as Yorke belts “Open your mouth wide.”
And from “Bloom,” The King Of Limbs transports the listener on a remarkable journey that only becomes richer with each listen – typical for Radiohead, yet could lead to early dismissal among causal listeners expecting something as instantly gratifying as In Rainbows. The fact is this isn’t an extension of In Rainbows, nor is it the return to the huge hooks and anthmatic rock of The Bends, although influences from Radiohead’s cannon of music can be heard in pockets throughout the album.
“Little By Little” has a very Radiohead-esque descending guitar chord as its backbone, reminiscent of “Reckoner” or something from the OK Computer era. But the spotlight is again focused on the churning beat, a drum machine augmented by what sound like junkyard percussion influenced by middle-eastern melodies.
“Codex” is the album’s downbeat ballad, with production akin to that of Kid A, draping the piano and horns (the horns are out of control good) in the audio equivalent of taking a xanax and wrapping yourself in the warmest blanket possible.
However it’s tracks like “Feral” and “Give Up The Ghost” that make business as usual for Radiohead an accomplishment by anyone else’s standards, “Feral” taking on the dubstep movement head on as a sort of “yeah, we can do this too and do it damn well” note from the band. The album’s centerpiece, “Lotus Flower,” seals the deal, with Yorke singing the line “there’s an empty space inside my heart” in his most gorgeous falsetto yet over a sinister bassline mixed with a human handclap. It sounds distant and processed yet warm and soulful all at the same time. The music video really takes it there too:
So, The King Of Limbs is its own beast, taking cues from the band’s library and the current state of music yet existing on its one plane entirely. As the laid back trot of “Separator” signals the end of the album, Yorke sings “I’m a fish now out of water,” which is the prefect definition for The King Of Limbs; a brilliant collection of songs that leaves one feeling slightly uncomfortable yet at ease all at once, a collection that requires that you take pause to fully digest what is going on here, a collection that strongly hints that Radiohead are about to blast off once again into completely new territories.
Perhaps this is only part one of a two-part album, a primer for LP 9 or a chance for listeners to catch their collective breath before the next big thing. But for now, The King Of Limbs is Radiohead’s big thing of the moment, and what a moment it is.
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