Music Matters

Radiohead moves from gloom to hope: The revelations of The Kings of Limbs

There are three things you have to think about when evaluating a Radiohead album.

First, it is impossible to judge it after just a few listens, because it's most likely operating at levels that won’t quite reveal themselves to a listener for a while. Second, their past albums loom so large that any new album has a ridiculously high standard to reach right from the start. Finally, that track record can work in their favor as well, because it’s hard to believe they could ever release anything mediocre.

All of those caveats lead us to The King Of Limbs, the band’s eighth album, which snuck up on us in the band’s typical sleight-of-hand fashion. I’ve listened to it a whole bunch of times in the past few days, as any good fanatic should, and I’ve come to about a 100 different conclusions in that time, which, again, is par for the course with this band.

What I can definitively say is that this is not a rock album. The prodigious talents of guitar aces Jonny Greenwood and Ed O’Brien are largely used for texture here, as they flicker away at the edges of these songs without ever coming to the forefront. Of course, Radiohead has been bending the genre to their experimental whims pretty much since Kid A, so their reluctance to rock out shouldn’t be surprising.

You can actually break The King Of Limbs eight songs, which clock in at a postage-stamp time of 37 minutes, into three distinct groups. There are two Kid A/Amnesiac style sonic shape-shifters: Album-opening “Bloom” and “Feral,” which is an instrumental. Neither of these sets the world on fire on their own, but they work in their sequence and as palette-cleansers for all that surrounds them.

Next up you have three itchy, mid-tempo tracks that echo some of the best work of the band’s past two albums, Hail To The Thief and In Rainbows. “Morning Mr. Magpie” is funky in an alien sort of way, while “Little By Little” has an ominous ticking time-bomb beat and Spaghetti Western guitars. The best of these is “Lotus Flower,” which is little more than drummer Phil Selway’s rat-a-tat beat and lead singer Thom Yorke at his most darkly seductive.

“There’s an empty place inside my heart/Where the weeds take root,” he sings, a line that’s typical of the evocative wordplay he displays throughout.

These three songs may not exactly strike new ground for the band, but that fact in no way mitigates their power. No band can cast a spell like Radiohead, and they do so in this trio of songs in as precise and economic a fashion as they’ve ever been able to accomplish.

All of this is good stuff, but where album really surprises and soars is the three-song run that closes things out. “Codex” starts this group off, and it is a true stunner. A stark ballad filled with watery lyrical imagery that hews to the spiritual, the song is highlighted by the chill-inducing moment when Yorke’s vocals meld with a lonesome horn. His voice is also the main driver of “Give Up The Ghost”; in this case, it is multi-tracked a million different ways over an acoustic guitar riff to beautiful effect.

“Separator” is the closer, beginning with Selway’s steady patter and marked throughout by limber bass work by Colin Greenwood.

“It’s like I’ve fallen out of bed from a long and vivid dream,” Yorke sings. “Finally I’m free of all the weight I’m carrying”. The whole band joins him in a rousing finish, as Jonny Greenwood and O’Brien pick arpeggios around the rhythm section and Yorke wails, again and again, “If you think this is over, then you’re wrong”.

On past Radiohead albums, such a line would have sounded like a threat or a warning. But the last three songs of The King Of Limbs, filled as they are with the band’s restless and adventurous spirit yet achieving a newfound gentility and grace, seem to have this band’s message pointed in another direction. As a matter of fact, that final line sounds more like a benevolent promise to all those in need.

Leave it to Radiohead to do the most subversive thing they could do at such a messed-up point in the history of human existence: They’ve dared to give us some hope.

SAMPLE THE KING OF LIMBS

"Lotus Flower"

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"Codex"

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"Separator"

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Movie Review

New movie Friendship pairs Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd in a bizarre bromance

Photo courtesy of A24

Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd in Friendship.

Comedian Tim Robinson has gained a cult following thanks to series like Detroiters and I Think You Should Leave, in which his brand of cringe comedy is on full display. The former Saturday Night Live writer/performer has had a few small movie roles over the years, but he’s now getting his first starring role in the off-kilter Friendship.

Robinson plays Craig, a mild-mannered suburbanite with a wife, Tami (Kate Mara), and son, Steven (Jack Dylan Grazer). Craig has a boring life that involves little more than going to his middle manager job while wearing the same clothes day after day, anticipating the next Marvel movie, and helping Tami out with her at-home floral business.

He gets a jolt of energy when Austin (Paul Rudd) moves into the neighborhood. The two men seem to hit it off, with Austin — a weatherman at a local TV channel — even taking Craig on a couple of impromptu adventures. But when Craig commits a couple of faux pas at a group gathering at Austin’s house, their bond starts to fracture.

Even though the film is written and directed by Andrew DeYoung, it’s clear that Robinson had a big influence on the style of comedy it features. There are no big set pieces with a slew of jokes coming one after another. Instead, the film forces the audience to try to vibe with the very particular type of wavelength it’s giving off, one that could almost be called anti-comedy for the way the laughs come out of left field.

The 100-minute film is full of random comedic moments, like Steven kissing Tami on the lips, Craig being obsessed with his plain brown clothes, a group sing-along, and more. More often than not, it’s the way Craig reacts to both normal and abnormal situations that gets the laughs. The character is needy and oblivious, two traits that combine to make many of his actions cringeworthy.

Perhaps most importantly for this type of movie, many things in the story go unexplained or don’t make sense. Seemingly crucial elements are brought up only to fade away just as quickly, while other parts that appeared to be throwaway sections get callbacks later in the film. DeYoung and Robinson are determined to keep the audience on their toes the entire time, never knowing what to expect next.

Robinson has the perfect face for a story like this, one that’s bland enough to blend into the background but memorable enough to sell the jokes. His demeanor is also excellent, never becoming too expressive, even when he gets angry. With long hair, a mustache, and a certain swagger, Rudd is a great complement to Robinson. Only in a film like this would an everyman like Rudd be considered the suave and cool one.

There will be some that will see Friendship and come away wondering what the hell they just watched. But anyone who goes in knowing that they’re about to witness a comedy that challenges their sensibilities will likely have a great time.

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Friendship is now playing in select theaters.

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