“The Bends” | Radiohead

The year is 1995. US space station Atlantis docks with the Russian station Mir. The DVD is announced as a new disk format. Toy Story sets the record for the first ever fully computer-generated film.

And Radiohead release “The Bends”. An important year for us, I’d say.

Radiohead crashed through the scene with a pivotal album that was hailed as the saviour of Rock. “The Bends” marked a radical change in the band’s style – the transition from the Britpop-influenced ‘Pablo Honey’ (1993) to the critically acclaimed post-rock opus ‘OK Computer’ (1997).

 

Before everything was in its right place.

 

I consider this album an important one in our times. It is a record laden with emotion and paranoia, exploring the human psyche in a way few have successfully done before. It paved the way for the behemoth Radiohead go on to be.

Brace yourself.

01. Planet Telex 
The opener starts off with an upbeat, solemn, synthesized drum-loop. Groovy bass, fuzzy distorted guitars join in. “You can force it, but it will not come” is how Thom Yorke sets it off. The chorus screams hopelessness. They say Thom was a mess on the studio floor, and he sang this into a mic. Not a very subtle track at all.

02. The Bends 
Title track. The essence. One of Radiohead’s more anthemic tracks, the title denotes what the band was going through after to the unprecedented success of Pablo Honey. The Bends is a situation faced by divers. When a diver swims to the surface too fast,  nitrogen compression begins paralysing his limbs. Now there’s the dilemma – he can’t swim too fast, he’ll only immobilize faster; neither can he stay low and drown. This kind of conflict pretty much sums up the soul of the album. An intricate 3-layer guitar attack by Thom, Ed, and Jonny. Go nuts.

03.High and Dry 
The “poppiest” song RH ever made. Radio stations loved it, playing it over and over again, while Thom probably snickered somewhere wondering why sarcasm is so difficult to comprehend. Ambiguous lyrics give way to interpretations ranging from a drug-addicted, solitary sufferer’s tale; to the psyche of a person who tries too hard to be someone he can’t. And the song describes, beautifully, the ultimate end of those tales. Read between the lines, but might I add this is probably as far as pop can go. With the odd track in an otherwise non-mainstream album, Thom makes his point. Pop sells.

04. Fake Plastic Trees 
Along with Street Spirit, my favourite on the album. Thom waxes poetic with lines such as “gravity always wins” /”She looks like the real thing, she tastes like the real thing, my fake plastic love.” Using his trademark falsetto throughout. he ponders what love today means. But then it could also be about the crud that builds up in society, due to mass production of plastic… Radiohead are unparalleled when it comes to not restricting a song’s meaning. The more you listen, the more you build moments in your mind. Profound, and rated 376 by Rolling Stone magazine on the list of the 500 greatest songs of all time.

 

Read between the smiles.

 

05. Bones 
“And cant you feel it, in your bones?”

06. Nice Dream 
Dreamy. Thom sounds lazy like he’s just woken from an exotic dream, due to the acoustics of the song. “They love me like I am their brother… they protect me, make me happy” he muses.

 

Press release, Japan.

 

07. Just 

Said to be a competition between Thom and Jonny – how can one squeeze an astonishing number of chords in a song, and still make it awesome? Has a couple Jonny© Greenwood™ lightning fast solos, and the multi-layered sound Radiohead pioneered. Phil drums with precise, tasteful beats. Does he an atomic metronome in his head, is a question that needs to be answered.

08. My Iron Lung 
Radiohead rebel their angst with being cornered into one-hit-wonders here.

09. Bulletproof… I wish I was. 
Ballad-like, mesmerising. Don’t miss the ringing-chiming guitar when the chorus comes in.

10. Black Star 
Broke? Girlfriend dumped you? Mugged by thugs? “Blame it on your Black star. Blame it on your falling Sky“. Thom’s falsetto never fails.

11. Sulk.
The only weak track on the album. Why is it here?

12. Street Spirit (Fade Out) 

 

“Immerse your soul in love.”

 

I’m overwhelmed every single time I hear ‘Fade Out’. Thom exalts the darkness that encompasses life, the darkness that we train ourselves to avoid, immunize ourselves against. Every Radiohead song is known to have a silver lining, a ray of hope. This one is the exception.

“Cracked eggs, dead birds, scream as they fight for life. I can feel death, can see its beady eyes” –  the song is haunting. And once the high pitched chorus comes, Thom reveals his ability to sustain high notes like no other. Revolving around a crushing arpeggio in A-minor, ‘Street Spirit’ demonstrates how beautifully simple music can be the most difficult to create. Everything fits gapless, like pieces of a jigsaw only meaning something when they coalesce. There’s nothing you feel you could take from this song and nothing you could add to it. Very few musicians ever achieve this.

‘The Bends’ is so much more than the sum of its parts. Dive into this album headfirst, unflinching. Take it in. I could ramble about it for ages, but you’ll only know when you hear it for yourself.

Tracklist

“Urban Hymns” | The Verve

“Hey man, so, have you heard that rad number called ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’? The band ripped off The Stones but damn what a tune!”

20 years ago today, Urban Hymns sought to challenge the standards of space-rock and alternative. As an album still revered by many as one of the best ever, I’d say it more than made good on that promise.

Unfortunately, the band is infamous only for the track referenced in the beginning of this review. Which is such a shame. Because IMO, it’s barely the best track on this album. Read on.

Say Bitter Sweet one more time I dare you I double-dare you.

14 tracks on this album and lead singer Richard Ashcroft strolls through them taking on life, happiness, inner demons… the works. Look beyond the catchy tunes and pop vibe, and you’ll find a hurricane of emotions underneath.

Let’s start with the trumpeting elephant in the studio – ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’, also the opener of the album. Yes, the violin sample was recorded by The Rolling Stones. And yes, they got sued. But that tune isn’t all the track is. Ashcroft & Co. have crafted a timeless song around it, one with heartfelt lyrics that made me stop in my tracks on first listen. This song perfectly captures the core of the album –  gazing inward and grappling with the uncertainties within.

‘Sonnet’ and ‘The Rolling People’ (heh, rolling) are light-hearted, energetic tunes – quite different from the more psychedelic ones on here. “WE GOTTA GO”, yells Ashcroft amidst some sick guitar bends that remind me of ‘Nothing As It Seems’ era Pearl Jam. Bass on point, as are the drums.

But it’s on the darker, deeper songs that the band shines. ‘The Drugs Don’t Work’ – my personal favourite on this album – has some truly melancholic, aching instrumentation. Ashcroft sounds like he’s about to break into a million pieces. He’s at the bedside of someone dear to him, who’s at that stage when all medicine fails. Nick’s guitar slides without any inertia at all and hides when there’s enough going on. God is that guitarist good at picking the right moments to add a note here, a bend there.

You know the LSD’s kicking in when ‘Catching The Butterfly’ begins. “Elusive dreams”, indeed. You tell me The Verve don’t like their pills, and I’m gonna point at the flying pigs in the sky.

‘Neon Wilderness’ is a treacly, layered track feat. Ashcroft mumbling sleepily. And what a gloriously trippy one it is! ‘Space and Time’ follows, and he seeks comfort so that his night can pass. “Ain’t got no lullaby… oh no no no”. Richard indulges and murmurs on every track including this one without restraint, often singing “no no no no no” on repeat, and he knows a billion ways to say “yeah”. It all lends a singularly unique character to his style of singing.

Wah-enabled kicks? It’s time to cover ‘Weeping Willow’.

I’m 87% sure McCabe broke his wah pedal when recording ‘Weeping Willow’. He makes his guitar wail and cry spectacularly, and compliments with relentless riffs. “Weeping willow, the pills under my pillow.” I’d love to know your interpretation of this song in the comments below.

‘Velvet Morning’ is a spacey build up to the face-melting ‘Come On’. Man, do they rock out on this one – I didn’t think McCabe would dive balls-out into the deep end. Good times 😀 It closes the album on a high note, although there’s a hidden track right after (you’ll have to figure that one out, I ain’t giving everything away.)

Urban Hymns was a revelation to me. I was orgasming over very much into Radiohead, Sigur Rós and the like when I heard this tornado of an album, and I loved it from the get-go. This album brims with warmth. If you like space-rock with a wide-open heart, get this.

If you disagree, I’m just gonna go ohhh no no no no no no no no no no no no no…

Tracklist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tongue-cut sparrow

Thousands of moons ago, in a dense, beautiful forest, there lived an old man with his wife. A solitary existence they had – them, the forest, and their little stream. The old man used to go out every day, into the deep forest, and find game and wood for them. His wife did not like to work, and treated him with disrespect, but the old man bore it all, as he was as gentle and kind as he was forgiving. One day, the old man came upon a sparrow in a clearing in the wilderness. It lay on its side, hurt, wings trembling. He felt pity on the little bird and took it back to his hut. Nursed it, every day, until the sparrow became all better.

One fine afternoon, when the wife was out, something miraculous happened. Something wonderful happened! The sparrow spoke to the old man.
Spoke!
In a voice as clear as could be, and more melodious than a harp is. It said to him – let me go, and I will do something for you. Something that will wash away your poverty, make your wife happy, and help you live a better life. The old man was incredulous, amazed. He didn’t believe the sparrow. But his heart could not bear keeping such a wonderful thing caged. So he opened the cage, and released the wondrous creature into the wind. Away the bird flew. The old man’s wife noticed the missing sparrow, but she shrugged it off.

Exactly 3 days later, the sparrow came back. It had kept its promise. It bought back urns, full of gold and pearls. And thanked the old man for saving his life. And also told him, that should he ever need him again, to simply whistle in a particular way near a particular mountain tree, the tree with leaves that blotted out the sun. And away it flew.

The riches transformed them. The old man didn’t care much for material pleasures, but was happy for his wife. He’d still go to the forest every day, but his hut of jute was now a mansion. And so it went, until one day, inevitably, the wealth was gone. Not disheartened in the slightest, the old man said “It’s fine, darling, we’ll live just like before…I miss those days, our simple meals and ways“. But she would have none of that. She knew the secret whistle and the enormous tree. So off she went, looked up to the heavens, and whistled. Thirty heartbeats and a rustle of leaves later, the sparrow appeared right in front of her. She told it, they needed more riches. But the sparrow refused, saying it would only honor the wishes of the old man. And told her, in a somber voice indeed, that greed will one day consume her.

The woman glared. Something deep snapped inside her. She lunged towards the sparrow. Clutched it tightly, and brutally cut its tongue off in one swift move. The sparrow stared right in her eyes, unblinking, and flew away, its face burning in searing pain. The old man’s wife went back home and told him what had happened (except the part where she cut the sparrow’s tongue). And she told him, that she would not eat, sleep, or speak to him until he had found it.

So began his journey, through the hazardous path that led to the mountains. He whistled every day, and it never came. One day, under a sky dotted with stars, he came upon the most beautiful valley he had ever seen. Sparrows flitted throughout, and he soon learnt that his sparrow was a prince of this mystic land. Upon meeting it, the sparrow didn’t say a word. The old man wondered about the reason for this silence. It saddened him, but he told the sparrow what his wife wanted. It nodded, and soon enough a huge iron trunk was brought to the man. He thanked the sparrow profusely and carted the trunk down over to his house.

Upon opening the trunk his wife, ecstatic, was a rich woman once again. But something had changed inside her, something evil awakened. Instead of being grateful, she started abusing the old man. Torturing him, asking him for more. The old man pleaded, saying the sparrow has given him enough. But nothing he said could soothe the fire that now smoldered. So he went again. The sparrow again nodded, in his wise enigmatic way, but also noticed how thin the man had become, how his wife had peeled away his soul. Nevertheless, he gave him now a silver trunk. Larger than before. The old man could not express his relief. Upon opening the trunk, his wife became richer than ever before. She had everything queens had dreamt of, and more. The biggest house in the world, scores of servants, a garden pond that kings would envy. There was nothing she couldn’t have.

But… No.

She wanted more. Pure evil slithered within her. Her husband, the old man, meant absolutely nothing to her now. She asked him, incredibly, for more. He obliged. What could he do? He was simply an old man. Now nothing but an empty shell. He walked to the mountains, yet again, feeling surreally lost. The sparrow did not say a word, neither did the old man. But his eyes told the sparrow everything. And a huge trunk was brought before him. It was enormous. And it was made of GOLD. The old man could not bear it, being the messenger and partaker of evil. He had wanted no more. Regardless, he trudged the trunk home. As soon as his wife saw it, she pushed him away, not even looking at him. All she could see was the gold trunk. And her greed took over, consumed her. Won its battle in her soul. She opened the trunk, and her eyes grew wider than saucers.

Not from the glitter of gold.

But from merciless fear. Out came the deadliest creatures she had ever seen! Snakes, scorpions, and creatures that have no name. 19 legged spiders and bees as big as pumpkins. They lunged on her, slithering, hissing, and screeching. The scream never escaped her lungs. She died in a million different ways. The old man could not bear to see this, but he knew it was to come. He grieved for the woman he had married, and forgave the one he had lost. He went up the mountain again, back to the sparrow. And asked only this – “Why have you not spoken to me since you left, and why did you never come back?”

The sparrow looked straight into his eyes, and opened its beak as wide as it could. Everything fell into place for the old man, the realization twisting inside him. Somehow, he knew. He knew it all. A tear unlatched itself from his eye, and streamed down his cheek.

Fin.

P.S. This is a story my aunt used to tell me as a kid. I don’t remember much of it, so I translated it to English and made it up as I went. I have since discovered that it’s an old folktale from Japan, and this is my version.

“Ágætis Byrjun” | Sigur Rós

 

 

I came across Sigur Rós a few years ago, when I read that Radiohead’s frontman Thom Yorke attended one of their concerts. Being more than a casual Radiohead fan myself, and intrigued by the fact that Thom Yorke digs the band, I tried out an album by Rós. This album. And nothing could have prepared me for it.

Perhaps the most incredible aspect of Ágætis Byrjun is how ignorant it seems of music that came before it, like it was conceived in a vacuum. Alien. Sigur Rós’s  ambitious sophomore album seems forged in a volcano, raw and primal; more purposeful and acute than their debut “Von”. The tone, the arrangements, even the way instruments are used reflect a profound originality that’s rarely seen, the unfamiliarity of the language (Icelandic) adding to its otherworldly charm. The album, I feel, is one meant to be experienced in entirety, the songs are so well tied together and flow into one another. The segues are there for a purpose, almost like gear shifts that help you wade in these sonically blissful currents.

Sigur Rós

The opener “Intro”, is a synthesized loop that runs only 01:37. Fluttering sounds twirl around a choral chant in a language unknown. I struggle to understand the instrument used. Foreboding, oceanic. It says to you – calm yourself, the path ahead is definitely not one you’ve tread before. In 97 seconds, it somehow instills in you a feeling of wonder, you’ve begin the descent. What follows next pulls you down under –  “Svefn-g-englar”,  roughly translated to Sleepwalking Angels, brims with massive walls of distortion, gentle but precise percussion, and soothing submarine pings. Feedback after guitar feedback cocoons, and bassist Georg Hólm keeps the low-end dense. I can’t help but imagine a deep, calm ocean in the night, with gigantic whales moving silently under the surface. Such is the imagery inherent in the track, which goes for just over 10 minutes. They say it’s Iceland’s indescribable beauty that inspires its inhabitants to achieve such pinnacles of art, organic and epic all at once. Lead singer Jón Þór Birgisson, aka Jónsi, has a falsetto that could make the Devil weep. His voice he uses almost as an instrument in itself, inhumanly angelic, swirling in and out of the musical tapestry the band weaves.

Violins and Cellos have a strong presence on the album, one of the most prominent example being “Starálfur”. As do glockenspiels, toy pianos, trumpets, tin whistles, oboes… all coming together in an intensely rich sound. Starálfur waxes and wanes majestically, amidst strings and flutters. Jónsi doesn’t venture into his trademark falsetto here, instead singing in an earnest woody timbre. Keyboardist Kjartan Sveinsson plays with a soul of gold, his magnificent melody sailing throughout. The strings on the track are known as being palindromic, sounding the same even when played backwards.  Very cool. Flugufrelsarinn has a darker halo – tight bass, abundant feedback and moody beats. I feel it doesn’t quite soar as high as some other tracks on the record, but that’s perfectly fine. It embodies Sigur Rós’ essence, and paves the way for an entirely different, slithering beast.

The hypnotic bassline pulsing through “Ný batterí” (New Batteries) imparts a sinister core to the track, one of my favorites on this album. The song starts with sounds of dungeons, turning cogs, metal on stone. A pensive saxophone lazily comes alive, a wavering flute proves just how gloomy the band can be. Jónsi croons in liquid falsetto, the melody of his voice twisting. The lyrics are wonderfully macabre(I had to translate them of course), amplified by omnipresent guitar wails. Halfway through, it abruptly erupts into chaos, cymbals clashing and Jónsi’s bow eviscerating his guitar. Did I mention he plays his Les Paul with a violin bow? That’s one of the key sonic elements on this record; the warm, fluid, continuous distortion created by a sliding bow has a very unique tone. The chords ebb and flow, puppetered by Jónsi’s genius. The track pauses, like the calm before a storm, and raptures to its apogee accompanied by a chilling multilayered vocal. Another pause, drums and wind instruments fade the track out.

Jónsi – breaking rules

I think for me, the only weak track on this album is Hjartað hamast, which I find jarring amidst such a spectacular tracklist, probably because of the pop harmonica used and its strange pacing. But even then, it’s original, lush, and much better than the filler that plagues most albums. Viðrar vel til loftárása though, is a sprawling masterpiece that really takes its time, the haunting piano melody and crescendo is something to love. The title track  “Ágætis byrjun” unfolds like a lullaby, soothing and melodious. I love the way the vocals seem so effortless, drummer Ágúst Ævar Gunnarsson guiding with shattery and restrained brush drumming. “Olsen Olsen” is a track sung entirely in a language made up by the band. Just syllables and emotion, no words. The language is also used on an entire future album by the band. It’s like they’re trying transcend the limitations of language and rely more on the music itself. Avalon, the album’s finale, is actually a segment of another track on the album dramatically slowed down, glacial in pace. I’ll let you guess which track that is.

Nitpicking aside, Ágætis has the power to transport you to a celestial Elysium amidst exploding supernovae, or the frighteningly dark, desolate ocean floor. How ironic then, that the album’s name translates to “An alright start”. Their aberrance makes it difficult to cite references or similar artists, perhaps experimental Pink Floyd/Mogwai infused with My Bloody valentine? Post-rock? I’m not entirely sure. The album cover – an outline of an alien fetus on blue ink, the delightful font used, everything is well thought out and cohesive. I’m sure this review feels littered with hyperbole and exaggeration, but once you float through the ten tracks on this record, there’s no other way to put it. The young Icelandic quartet have crafted an aurora of an album, stunning, emotionally gripping, and original – the likes of which I have never heard, and probably never will.

Tracklist

Tree

So maybe I will

Stare into that tree-trunk,

How woody and dark

Looms your great bark

Maybe I will

Sever those mighty twisted leaves

How you rustle shamelessly,

To every whim

Maybe I will.

Perhaps, I will forge a spark,

Within your melancholy bark

In bottomless hope,

In an insane need,

Of that unknown sound,

Plunging forward then seeping, down in you,

Filling a beautiful void,

And rapturing anew

All inside you.

For no one shall ever know,

How far the unicorns go

It is forever now,

What is tomorrow.

Can you tell me,

How the Waters flow

Can you guess?

I must know.

The Tree-Trunk Snores.

babli

The wails, the flails, and the shouts

Oh those nerve-wrenching bouts

She twisted and she turned, in the womb

Her own dank dark little tomb

And the mother arched her back,

And the midwife gave a smack.

Push Push Push Push Push

The father was not so khush

But be that as it may

Little Babli was out in day.

She’s a girl, Gods she’s a girl!

Who’ll buy her diamonds,

Who’ll buy her pearls?

And twirl her godforsaken curls?

No we can’t keep her, OFF WITH HER!

Only to a boy, shall I confer!

She was hence left to fate, outside a Big Red Door

Crying and hollering, while the townsfolk snore

But, oh, be that as it may

Little Babli was not astray.

But then she was taken in, pink and thin

Pretty almond eyes and a tender chin

She’s a darling, the nice lady said

She shall be happy, in our stead

She’ll marry a prince!

Who’ll buy her diamonds rings

And satin and velvet and big fat pearls

And dainty maidens to twirl her curls!

She shall be a lady, graceful and fair,

“Would you like that little one? For you I care.”

But, hey, be that as it may

Little Babli farted instead.