Radiohead's towering landmark OK Computer is probably chosen as the best album of its decade more frequently than any other album from any other decade. Unsurprisingly, it has been analyzed from all conceivable angles, its every attribute dissected and submitted for critical approval. Most of its critics sing the same praises, and most of these are merited. In the scope of the band's career, for instance, OK Computer does mark a quantum leap. For all its shining moments on The Bends, it was here that Radiohead transcended its Jeff Buckley-esque wails and grunge-derived guitar roars and emerged sounding like no other band in the world. Inevitably, though, reviewers of OK Computer feel obliged to discuss the album's significance as a product of the 1990s: they portray the decade as one of greater uncertainty than any other since the 1960s, and go on to praise frontman Thom Yorke's prescience and name "Fitter Happier" the most "important" track on the album. In doing so, they forget that every era in human history was seen as a time of transition by those living through it (see: Dylan's times a-changin' in 1964; Dickens' best of times and worst of times in 1859; or Shakepeare's winter of discontent in 1591). More importantly, though, amidst all the grandiose stabs at significance, they also tend to completely overlook the album itself. OK Computer is not the album of the 90s because it captured some angsty zeitgeist, preserving the feel of war in Kosovo - or of life after the death of Cobain or the birth of the internet - for posterity. Rather, its success lies in Radiohead's newly expanded sound, accompanied by tighter songwriting that belied the group's burgeoning confidence. While songs like "Airbag" still featured the powerful angularity in Jonny Greenwood's guitars that had made "Creep" a worldwide hit, the majority of OK Computer's tracks explored different textures. On "The Tourist," Greenwood's guitar is subdued to a languid wash, while the superlative "No Surprises" lends it Beach Boy reverb, echoing cleanly off into eternity; significantly, "Climbing Up the Walls" features Greenwood's emergence as an arranger, showcasing the measured dissonance that would later define such pieces as "How to Disappear Completely." The high standard set by Greenwood and human drum machine Phil Selway - the precision on "Airbag" is truly impeccable - is matched step-for-step by Thom Yorke. His lyrics are sharp and poignant, yet (generally) free of their standard, occasional descent into melodrama. His vocals, meanwhile, are perhaps his strongest ever, effortlessly ranging from his snarling growl ("Electioneering") to his trademark, soaring falsetto (the end of "Karma Police") - sometimes, as on the epic "Paranoid Android," in the course of a single song! The story of the album is, if anything, more dramatic knowing that within three years, Radiohead would scrap most identifyable aspects of its sound and recreate itself for the album's equally acclaimed follow-up, Kid A. On its own, though, OK Computer stands as an album of very nearly incomparable quality - made of and for the 1990s, but extending forever beyond them, note-perfect.Saturday, May 28, 2011
My Top 10 Albums of the 90s: (1) OK Computer - Radiohead
[This is the last in a series of ten posts.]
Radiohead's towering landmark OK Computer is probably chosen as the best album of its decade more frequently than any other album from any other decade. Unsurprisingly, it has been analyzed from all conceivable angles, its every attribute dissected and submitted for critical approval. Most of its critics sing the same praises, and most of these are merited. In the scope of the band's career, for instance, OK Computer does mark a quantum leap. For all its shining moments on The Bends, it was here that Radiohead transcended its Jeff Buckley-esque wails and grunge-derived guitar roars and emerged sounding like no other band in the world. Inevitably, though, reviewers of OK Computer feel obliged to discuss the album's significance as a product of the 1990s: they portray the decade as one of greater uncertainty than any other since the 1960s, and go on to praise frontman Thom Yorke's prescience and name "Fitter Happier" the most "important" track on the album. In doing so, they forget that every era in human history was seen as a time of transition by those living through it (see: Dylan's times a-changin' in 1964; Dickens' best of times and worst of times in 1859; or Shakepeare's winter of discontent in 1591). More importantly, though, amidst all the grandiose stabs at significance, they also tend to completely overlook the album itself. OK Computer is not the album of the 90s because it captured some angsty zeitgeist, preserving the feel of war in Kosovo - or of life after the death of Cobain or the birth of the internet - for posterity. Rather, its success lies in Radiohead's newly expanded sound, accompanied by tighter songwriting that belied the group's burgeoning confidence. While songs like "Airbag" still featured the powerful angularity in Jonny Greenwood's guitars that had made "Creep" a worldwide hit, the majority of OK Computer's tracks explored different textures. On "The Tourist," Greenwood's guitar is subdued to a languid wash, while the superlative "No Surprises" lends it Beach Boy reverb, echoing cleanly off into eternity; significantly, "Climbing Up the Walls" features Greenwood's emergence as an arranger, showcasing the measured dissonance that would later define such pieces as "How to Disappear Completely." The high standard set by Greenwood and human drum machine Phil Selway - the precision on "Airbag" is truly impeccable - is matched step-for-step by Thom Yorke. His lyrics are sharp and poignant, yet (generally) free of their standard, occasional descent into melodrama. His vocals, meanwhile, are perhaps his strongest ever, effortlessly ranging from his snarling growl ("Electioneering") to his trademark, soaring falsetto (the end of "Karma Police") - sometimes, as on the epic "Paranoid Android," in the course of a single song! The story of the album is, if anything, more dramatic knowing that within three years, Radiohead would scrap most identifyable aspects of its sound and recreate itself for the album's equally acclaimed follow-up, Kid A. On its own, though, OK Computer stands as an album of very nearly incomparable quality - made of and for the 1990s, but extending forever beyond them, note-perfect.
Radiohead's towering landmark OK Computer is probably chosen as the best album of its decade more frequently than any other album from any other decade. Unsurprisingly, it has been analyzed from all conceivable angles, its every attribute dissected and submitted for critical approval. Most of its critics sing the same praises, and most of these are merited. In the scope of the band's career, for instance, OK Computer does mark a quantum leap. For all its shining moments on The Bends, it was here that Radiohead transcended its Jeff Buckley-esque wails and grunge-derived guitar roars and emerged sounding like no other band in the world. Inevitably, though, reviewers of OK Computer feel obliged to discuss the album's significance as a product of the 1990s: they portray the decade as one of greater uncertainty than any other since the 1960s, and go on to praise frontman Thom Yorke's prescience and name "Fitter Happier" the most "important" track on the album. In doing so, they forget that every era in human history was seen as a time of transition by those living through it (see: Dylan's times a-changin' in 1964; Dickens' best of times and worst of times in 1859; or Shakepeare's winter of discontent in 1591). More importantly, though, amidst all the grandiose stabs at significance, they also tend to completely overlook the album itself. OK Computer is not the album of the 90s because it captured some angsty zeitgeist, preserving the feel of war in Kosovo - or of life after the death of Cobain or the birth of the internet - for posterity. Rather, its success lies in Radiohead's newly expanded sound, accompanied by tighter songwriting that belied the group's burgeoning confidence. While songs like "Airbag" still featured the powerful angularity in Jonny Greenwood's guitars that had made "Creep" a worldwide hit, the majority of OK Computer's tracks explored different textures. On "The Tourist," Greenwood's guitar is subdued to a languid wash, while the superlative "No Surprises" lends it Beach Boy reverb, echoing cleanly off into eternity; significantly, "Climbing Up the Walls" features Greenwood's emergence as an arranger, showcasing the measured dissonance that would later define such pieces as "How to Disappear Completely." The high standard set by Greenwood and human drum machine Phil Selway - the precision on "Airbag" is truly impeccable - is matched step-for-step by Thom Yorke. His lyrics are sharp and poignant, yet (generally) free of their standard, occasional descent into melodrama. His vocals, meanwhile, are perhaps his strongest ever, effortlessly ranging from his snarling growl ("Electioneering") to his trademark, soaring falsetto (the end of "Karma Police") - sometimes, as on the epic "Paranoid Android," in the course of a single song! The story of the album is, if anything, more dramatic knowing that within three years, Radiohead would scrap most identifyable aspects of its sound and recreate itself for the album's equally acclaimed follow-up, Kid A. On its own, though, OK Computer stands as an album of very nearly incomparable quality - made of and for the 1990s, but extending forever beyond them, note-perfect.
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