Reviews
Radiohead, NYC
Radiohead's Kid A is the Number One album in this country. This album-the one with nary a proper rock single, the one that hundreds of thousands of fans swiped from Napster long before its release, the one backed by puzzling, shambolic, and strewn promotional tactics-is the Number One album in the country. And many, many others as well. That's what I was thinking Wednesday night as I saw Radiohead play New York City's Roseland Ballroom. But something strange happened as the show progressed: the sense of staggering disbelief faded into utter hypnosis, and finally, into an apex of complete and total clarity. Granted, Radiohead is one of the great live rock bands. But Kid A, while staggeringly brilliant, is not for all practical purposes, a rock record. And so there were reservations-as to whether they could pull off, in a live context, the multi-layered electro-texturization that makes the record so hypnotic, so lush, and so unbelievably enrapturing. Well, they did.
What made the performance truly remarkable was the seamless manner in which, by a faultless level of skill and intensity, these five musicians are able to translate a studio record into something both euphoric, and technically crystalline, on the stage. Opening with Kid A's haunting, though infectiously sinister "The National Anthem," Thom, Colin, Phil, Johnny, and Ed were backed by a seven-piece horn section, which blared like Coltrane on crack whilst a frisky Thom jilted and seized in the foreground. The grandeur was unmatched, and so it went from here on out. Yorke's vocals on "Morning Bell" spiraled about, weaving yearning into solid beauty. Songs like "In Limbo" and "Optimistic," which unroll with steadfast ease over countless layers of sound on record, unroll with equal grace and, if possible, even more depth and pristine severity on stage. And there were moments, my friends, where the implications of this were genuinely staggering. For starters, Kid A's "Idioteque." I don't know where Phil learned to play drums like that, or where Thom learned to dance and duel along with them in such a way, but I've never heard anything like it. "How To Disappear Completely" worked like some kind of otherworldly opiate-again and again and again, you wanted to melt. Other orgiastic moments: "The Bends," which will never cease to swell into something rock music may never, ever find again; "Talk Show Host," quite arguably one of the best Radiohead songs ever, and when played live, is not unlike an early Christmas present; "Paranoid Android," making the world safe once again for power chords and a mean hook-something is indeed happening; "Karma Police," which, though you've heard it a thousand times over, can only get better. After a four-song encore including two new tracks (five were played in all), one tentatively titled "I Could Be Wrong," and the other, "Pyramid Song" (Thom: "This is for all the people who have heard it on Napster"), the band came out for one last hoorah, ending the night just as they do the album-with "Motion Picture Soundtrack" and a touch of unwavering nostalgia.
Despite all of the dreadful complications and hassles and brown-nosing and superfluous hoopla that surrounded the show, at the end of the night it was about this band-this band that has grown into a masterpiece of studio wizardry and unparalleled live brilliance. When first I heard Kid A, I thought surely, the fine suits at Capitol Records were holed up in a boardroom somewhere wetting their iron-pressed pants. But after Thursday night, I bet they're kissing the sky.
Radiohead: Behind The Scenes
Ticketmania:
Wednesday night's coveted Radiohead gig at New York City's Roseland Ballroom was not merely a tremendous rock show, it was also a veritable event. Most of those lucky enough to score tickets, which sold out in about three minutes Tuesday morning, landed them by sheer luck (of course I am referring here to those people who do not work in "the industry," and are not famous-though, rumor has it that itboys Matt Damon and Ben Affleck actually had to buy their tickets -- and then Ben didn't even show!). Probably 95 percent of those camped outside the Roseland box office (some for up to 48 hours prior to sale) Tuesday were unjustly rewarded for their gusto by a lottery-style ticket dissemination process that shafted even the most sleepless of campers. This resulted of course in hundreds fans amassing themselves outside Roseland prior to the show-ticketless, but hopeful-as hundreds more actual ticketholders coiled themselves around 3 NYC blocks in a massive line awaiting entry to the venue (a process that was long and arduous to say the very least). But while some of the less fortunate fans found themselves shelling out between $150-$250 for counterfeit scalped tickets, there were a few others whose patience paid off, when at about 9:30 PM (after Radiohead's set had begun), Roseland released about 40 more tickets at the door for the original $32.50 ticket price. Many fans have complained about the poor manner in which ticket sales were handled, but it's kind of unclear whose to blame for that. Folks at Radiohead's Nasty Little Man publicity company say they really had nothing to do with the ticketing process. So is it Ticketmaster that's to blame? Or, dare I say it, are the kids gonna get angry at Radiohead for their, ahem, sparse scheduling of U.S. dates? Tickets for the only other two North American gigs (Oct. 20 in Los Angeles and Oct. 17 in Toronto) are already garnering unbelievable bids over eBay. For example, at press time, there were 42 offerings for the Toronto/L.A. gigs posted on the auction site. The highest? Well, a pair of fourth-row seats for the L.A. Greek Theater gig are currently at $5,100, with still over a day left for bidding. The highest bid for a pair of Roseland tickets was $500. My goodness indeed.
Famous People Alert:
But while the show was phenomenal, the celebrity sightings were just plain funny. People we saw: Joaquin Phoenix, Jimmy Fallon, Jane Pratt, Sean Lennon, Yuka Honda, Taylor Hawkins of the Foo Fighters, author-extraordinaire Dave Eggers, Grant Gee (Meeting People Is Easy director), Adam Yauch, Casey Affleck, and Matt Damon. In one of the more amusing waiting-in-line-and-overhearing-funny-conversations moments, Capitol Artist Manager John Silva wrangled with the list gate-keepers to secure both his own ticket and that of Capitol Records President Gary Gersh, who was across the street having a drink.
The Afterparty:
Well, some of those lucky enough, and awake enough, to stick around for the show's afterparty (which took place upstairs at Roseland), had the special treat of being able to chat with members of the band. One of those, of course, was our very own Ultragrrrl, admittedly Radiohead's biggest fan. And she learned some pretty exciting tidbits. When speaking to Ed O'Brien about the band's first encore song, a new one, he explained the track was tentatively titled "I Might be Wrong," and that many fans had been citing the song as one of their favorites. He added that it will likely appear on the band's next album. And speaking of that next album, drummer Phil Selway took a moment to explain that the band recorded 23 songs in the sessions for Kid A, and that they are still trying to decide what to do with the 13-song spillover that did not appear on that record. And then there was Thom, who, for the record, was quite nice, if mildly bashful when complimented on his enrapturing state presence. He reportedly responded by imitating himself as a squinty-eyed hunchback with his tongue sticking out, and proclaimed, "I must have stage presence in my sleep, then!" Thom, there is no doubt in our minds that you do.
It's hard work being a Radiohead fan. Just ask the hundreds of devotees who camped out overnight in the freezing Manhattan cold for tickets to this, the U.K. quintet's first performance in North America since June 1998 and one of only three planned North American shows this year. Ask the unlucky ones, who wrestled with ghastly pricetags for extra seats on Internet auction sites and found solace with their kindred spirits on newsgroups and Web message boards.
And in a week where these devotees helped Radiohead's new "Kid A" album (Capitol) rocket to No. 1 on both The Billboard 200 and the U.K. album chart, what could be more appropriate than a musical thank-you? The group rewarded the masses for their patience with a 22-song, nearly two-hour set that offered a little something for everyone; not too heavy on the new stuff, a handful of rarities and works in progress, and a host of sing-a-long favorites that worked the sold-out crowd into a frenzy.
The first portion of the set went top-heavy on "Kid A" material, laying the often confounding tracks out for all to experience. The raunchy bass lead of opener "The National Anthem" stood its ground throughout the song, doing battle with frontman Thom Yorke's garbled screams and a live horn section's atonal screeches. "Optimistic" rocked much harder than its album counterpart, while "In Limbo" gurgled its way to spaced-out, head-nodding bliss.
Overall, even the most abstract cuts from "Kid A" translated remarkably well to the stage. The polyrhythmic workout "Idioteque" pumped like a dance floor anthem in another dimension, while Yorke's vocal manipulations punctuated the empty spaces in the warm synth exoskeleton of "Everything In Its Right Place." But perhaps best of all was Yorke's "How To Disappear Completely," a metaphysical dilemma set to sad acoustic guitar and tortured vocal wails. As he bellowed "I'm not here / this isn't happening," one was almost inclined to believe him.
The band sharpened its rock chops on sensational versions of the Sonic Youth-ish, "The Bends"-era B-side "Permanent Daylight" and three classics from that 1995 album -- the deliberate title track, the bombastic "My Iron Lung," and "Just," featuring stellar stickwork from Phil Selway.
Of the unfamiliars, first encore "I Might Be Wrong" stood out the most clearly, with its gritty guitar line and danceable groove. "The Pyramid Song" was dedicated to "all those who've heard it on Napster," while the dissonant "Dollars And Cents" and the vaguely bluesy "You And Whose Army" offered fleeting glimpses at whatever Radiohead has in store next.
Yorke had little or nothing to impart to the crowd beyond the usual pleasantries and the occasional song intro ("The Bends" was introduced as "a rock song"), but he really didn't need to say anything. The rest of the band might as well have been anchored to the stage, but they've never been ones to bounce around with abandon anyway. What Radiohead unleashed was the full spectrum of their sonic palette, giving the open mind plenty to contemplate and the anxious ears a feast to savor. Now that's worth waiting for.
-- Jonathan Cohen, N.Y.
Anyone who suspected Radiohead of abandoning rock with its atmospheric new album, Kid A, was entirely disabused of that notion Wednesday (Oct. 11) at the Roseland Ballroom in New York.
The band hit the stage with eight horn players to unleash a vicious rampage called "The National Anthem." Guitarist Jonny Greenwood shook static from what looked like a transistor radio as Thom Yorke wailed like a man possessed and twitched like an electrocuted scarecrow. Saxophones screamed and trombones slugged the crowd with Mike Tyson body blows. It sounded like a Krautrock band had sampled a late-period Coltrane LP. Moments later, the five blokes lilted into the jaunty-but-somehow-still-haunting "Morning Bell," Yorke massaging chords from his Fender Rhodes piano and pleading, "Where'd you park the car?"
Radiohead played eight of ten songs from its latest album, five new songs, plus a smattering of tracks from The Bends and OK Computer. For two hours, the pendulum swung between true rock crunch and enigmatic guitar aria, as entranced fans swooned.
Thom Yorke's voice is easily the most expressive instrument in pop music today. As the band trundled through "How To Disappear Completely," he soared up to his falsetto: "That there, that's not me..." But he'll also swoop down into meaty mid-range or wrench his throat to a Johnny Rotten-style sneer. Yorke must be the only person on earth who can wring doe-eyed desperation from a lyric like "We hope that you choke."
The band itself was full of revelation. When Jonny Greenwood tapped out a glockenspiel daydream on "No Surprises," there was guitarist Ed O'Brien doubling the line on his Rickenbacker, adding the perfect hint of country to a song of suburban daze. When both guitarists plus Yorke strummed and picked endless encircling lines at the end of "Airbag," there was the huge, spare bassline of Colin Greenwood sweeping across the music like a piece of gorgeous architecture. On a new track called "I Might Be Wrong," Yorke rattled riveting rhythms from a tambourine over stalwart drummer Phil Selway's wide, walloping groove. You can say they've gone electronic, but the members of Radiohead are pure aces at creating music together.
The final song of the night, "Motion Picture Soundtrack," is also last on Kid A. It was performed by a trio: Colin Greenwood bowed his upright bass and Yorke sang and played organ as Jonny Greenwood crouched underneath a synth, his skinny arms snaking up to the keys to make harp noises. Spacey? Definitely. But Radiohead has made outer-space rock safe for human life. When they finished, Yorke held aloft a large sign that he'd been given by a front-row fan. It bore two words: Thank You.
-- Rodd McLeod
New York City is about to become New Yorke City, and every one of the expectant thousands crowded outside and inside the venue is well aware of it.
'Kid A' is in the shops. We've all heard it, already become familiar with its intricacies, but there is still no way to know what to expect. The most important rock band on the planet have undergone yet another transformation, to the point where the term "rock band" might not even apply anymore.
Inside, the crowd, which includes Matt Damon, the Beastie Boys' Adam Yauch and the ever-present Sean Lennon, fill the 3,000 capacity ballroom from back to front, waiting for a glimpse of just what sort of creature Radiohead have become.
And then, joined by a full horn-section, they are here, blasting through the biggest departure from their rock roots to date, 'Kid A''s ambitiously stunning 'The National Anthem'. Frontman Thom Yorke delivers what borders on a psychotically intense performance from the start, growling and snarling into the mic as if he had just come off watching 'The Exorcist' in a dark room with Tricky.
Then the song ends, Thom's spasms cease, and he retreats to a keyboard in the back, sparking the intro to 'Morning Bell'. The chaos subsides, the gentle subduing melody fills the room, and it's as if an entirely different band has taken the stage.
What follows is a set that features eight of 'Kid A''s ten tracks, five unreleased songs, one B-side, and the remainder split between classics from 'The Bends' and 'OK Computer'.
There is little talk from the stage between songs, other than Yorke's oft-used intros, "This song goes like this" and "This is a rock song," although he does speak briefly about a few songs, even dedicating the piano-ballad 'Pyramid Song' (aka 'The Egyptian Song') to "all those people who have heard it on Napster".
The most intense moment comes during an adrenaline-injected version of 'Idioteque', which actually sees the vocalist dancing frantically to the rapid-fire beats driven by Jonny Greenwood at the programming console. Smoke rises, lights flash, and it's unlike anything you've seen before - from this band, at least.
Of the unreleased songs, the Blair-baiting 'You And Whose Army' draws the strongest response from the fans, who stare on in rapture as Yorke sits down at his piano and further displays his multi-instrumental talents. Hell, during 'Dollars And Cents' the man makes playing the tambourine look like a complex art form in itself. Take that Liam.
There is no more ideal way to close out the show than with the heavenly tones of 'Motion Picture Soundtrack'. Yorke sits at a keyboard in the centre of the stage, accompanied solely by Colin Greenwood on bowed upright bass, while Jonny does some fiddling with the programming set-up off to the side.
Finally, the band stood before the crowd, at rest at last, and Thom holds a sign high above his head. "Thank You", it reads simply. At that moment, every person present wished for the same thing: a sign of their own that they could raise in response, reading, just as simply, "No, Thank You."