There's no amount of money in the world that could persuade me to spend a
minute in Thom Yorke's shoes right now. Even though the prospect of
learning some of his spastic dance moves makes it awfully tempting, the
pressure must be just too unbearable to withstand. He is, after all, the
de facto leader of the most popular rock 'n' roll band in the world, who
for the second time in his band's 10-year career has had to prove that
Radiohead is an entity worthy of all the critical acclaim and rabid
adulation it receives. But instead of buckling under the weight of all
that expectation and spending five years on some overwrought faux
masterpiece, Yorke and his bandmates did what any truly great rock band
would do -- ignore everyone and make the record they felt like making.
Back at the end of March though, it seemed as if Hail to the Thief
(so titled in honor of George W. Bush's "stolen" presidential election)
might not be such a triumphant step for the band when an unmastered version
of the entire album leaked and immediately spread like a virus over
file-sharing networks. Disappointment ensued after listeners couldn't
equate the faint glimmers of brilliance and altogether flat production with
the cutting-edge standards the band is normally associated with. As it
stood then, the record had no continuity, no stylistic cohesion, nothing to
suggest it was anything more than a bunch of new songs that hadn't
progressed much at all beyond their live previews from the previous
summer's tour.
Perhaps it's only a psychological difference, but there's something in the
finished product that makes the customary Radiohead magic more
apparent. It could be a liberal sprinkling of Nigel Godrich's faerie dust
held off until the very last minute for all anyone really knows about the
band's creative process; regardless of the means, however, the end is a
logical step forward that reconciles the alien experimentalism of Kid
A and Amnesiac with the gift for post-whatever songwriting
perfected on The Bends and OK Computer. In fact, several
tracks like "Sit Down. Stand Up", "Where I End and You Begin" and "A
Punchup at a Wedding" convert the Krautrock and electronica influences
introduced on those last two challenging records into concise pop song
structures, proving that Radiohead hasn't completely given up on pleasing
its staunch admirers. But even if a list of song highlights isn't an easy
one to compile due to the 14 tracks' often reluctant charms, one thing
is certain -- the end of "2 + 2 = 5" rocks hard enough to send a
whole herd of Elephants stampeding for the used bins.
Hail to the Thief's complexity carries over into its lyrical content
as well -- especially for a band whose reputation relies as heavily on its
words as its music. Much has already been made of the lack of vitriolic
commentary the title suggests is contained within; for better or worse,
this is not an overtly political record. There's a strong sense of
resignation that carries through Yorke's lyrics on the entire disc, but
it's not so much an outright surrender as it is a retreat and regrouping
from the global beatdown handed out to anyone who dared to oppose the
course of world politics over the past two years. Think of it this way: if
OK Computer was the point where Yorke and Radiohead issued a
challenge to the status quo, and Kid A and Amnesiac
represented the waging of the war, then Hail to the Thief is the
soundtrack to a defeated, but nowhere near surrendered, voice of
dissidence. Or, to use Yorke's own imagery from "I Will" -- "Lay me down /
In a bunker / Underground / I won't let this happen to my children / . . . / I
will / Rise up" -- these are definitely not the words of a quitter.
So even if Hail to the Thief isn't the protest record of the decade,
or OK Computer 2 as Yorke suggested in an interview earlier this
year, it's still an incredible album from a band that continues to redefine
its boundaries. Besides, most bands never even achieve one perfect record
throughout their careers -- why should anyone expect Radiohead to deliver two?
— 20 June 2003
