Review: Thom Yorke--The Eraser
I have no idea how to write reviews, so TV's Adam can laugh at this if he likes before he posts his own review and puts my sorry ramblings to shame.
As I understand it, Yorke made this record as a sort of electronic catharsis, to get all the weird beats and blips out of his system, so that Radiohead may once again become a rock band. The result is almost exactly what one would expect a Thom Yorke solo album to sound like: beautiful and ethereal, but frustratingly low-key. The title track is among the best of the lot. It opens with a sturdy piano chord (courtesy of Jonny Greenwood), which is joined by a pitter-pattering electronic drumbeat. After about thirty seconds, Thom enters in falsetto: "Please excuse me but I've got to ask..." At the chorus, the trademark ghostly, disembodied vocals hit like opening the door to a steam-filled room. The track's coda is a charming bit of electro-house reminiscent of a late eighties video game.
At times, this album sounds like Radiohead's Hail To The Thief without Radiohead. The dreary vocals on "The Clock" are particularly reminiscent of "The Gloaming" or "Where I End And You Begin." "Black Swan" is the closest Yorke comes to a rock song, although it has a definitively hip-hop beat. It sounds like a muted cross between "I Might Be Wrong" and "Myxomitosis."
But there are also moments of freshness and innovation, bursts of creativity that could not have been achieved with Radiohead. "Skip Divided" is structured like a straight-up rock song from an alternate universe, built on bleeps, clicks, hums and hisses. "Atoms for Peace" is beautifully minimalistic and peaceful, a sunbeam of warmth and hope in an otherwise gloomy album.
Yorke has long been highly political, especially in recent years. He has said that the title "The Eraser" refers to the desire to "erase" our knowledge of impeding crises like peak oil and global warming. This is apparently what he is referring to when he wails "Time is running out" in "The Clock."
"And It Rained All Night" and "Harrowdown Hill" are probably the bleakest tracks on the record. The former is an examination of New York after a Katrina-type flood, set to a chaotic splurge of beats and synthesizer. The latter is a bone-chilling allusion to the dubious circumstances surrounding the 2003 death of British weapons inspector David Kay: "Did I fall or was I pushed? And where's the blood?"
"Cymbal Rush" starts out slowly, then begins to build up in intensity, and just as it is about to break through the low-key contours of the album, it cuts off.
Yorke's voice has never sounded better than on this record. We see him both building on previous vocal innovations and experimenting with new styles. It is obvious that he could have made this a truly great album, but chose not to because as usual he wants to be an annoying, pretentious little fuck.
Three-and-three-quarters stars out of five.
As I understand it, Yorke made this record as a sort of electronic catharsis, to get all the weird beats and blips out of his system, so that Radiohead may once again become a rock band. The result is almost exactly what one would expect a Thom Yorke solo album to sound like: beautiful and ethereal, but frustratingly low-key. The title track is among the best of the lot. It opens with a sturdy piano chord (courtesy of Jonny Greenwood), which is joined by a pitter-pattering electronic drumbeat. After about thirty seconds, Thom enters in falsetto: "Please excuse me but I've got to ask..." At the chorus, the trademark ghostly, disembodied vocals hit like opening the door to a steam-filled room. The track's coda is a charming bit of electro-house reminiscent of a late eighties video game.
At times, this album sounds like Radiohead's Hail To The Thief without Radiohead. The dreary vocals on "The Clock" are particularly reminiscent of "The Gloaming" or "Where I End And You Begin." "Black Swan" is the closest Yorke comes to a rock song, although it has a definitively hip-hop beat. It sounds like a muted cross between "I Might Be Wrong" and "Myxomitosis."
But there are also moments of freshness and innovation, bursts of creativity that could not have been achieved with Radiohead. "Skip Divided" is structured like a straight-up rock song from an alternate universe, built on bleeps, clicks, hums and hisses. "Atoms for Peace" is beautifully minimalistic and peaceful, a sunbeam of warmth and hope in an otherwise gloomy album.
Yorke has long been highly political, especially in recent years. He has said that the title "The Eraser" refers to the desire to "erase" our knowledge of impeding crises like peak oil and global warming. This is apparently what he is referring to when he wails "Time is running out" in "The Clock."
"And It Rained All Night" and "Harrowdown Hill" are probably the bleakest tracks on the record. The former is an examination of New York after a Katrina-type flood, set to a chaotic splurge of beats and synthesizer. The latter is a bone-chilling allusion to the dubious circumstances surrounding the 2003 death of British weapons inspector David Kay: "Did I fall or was I pushed? And where's the blood?"
"Cymbal Rush" starts out slowly, then begins to build up in intensity, and just as it is about to break through the low-key contours of the album, it cuts off.
Yorke's voice has never sounded better than on this record. We see him both building on previous vocal innovations and experimenting with new styles. It is obvious that he could have made this a truly great album, but chose not to because as usual he wants to be an annoying, pretentious little fuck.
Three-and-three-quarters stars out of five.