The Eraser: Thom Yorke - Review

Rating: C+

Thom Yorke's The Eraser has been reviewed ad nauseum at this point, so I'll make this brief.

I've been a Radiohead fan for years now, and any fan will tell you the wait for their albums is agonizingly long. I never ship the band off to the crematory, though. "Take your time, gents. Make it perfect. I know you will."

This is probably why The Eraser reviews have been less than beaming. Sure, it has satiated our dribbling mouths just for a bit, but the album feels rushed and therefore, lackluster. Could it be that Yorke didn't spend as much time at the drawing board as he should have, because of his labors over that little project we call Radiohead? I think so.

We get almost exactly what we would expect from a Yorke "solo" album. Blippy digital arrangements with a scarce scatter of organic sounds are strung together by swift and precise rhythms. Listening to The Eraser, Yorke's role in Radiohead becomes glaring. He's the essential entity that's supported by the sturdy power of his bandmates. Perhaps, that's what his solo effort needs: that support. If he had put out something completely different from what we're used to, that would be one thing, but the sprinkle of distinctive Radiohead moments leads us to believe that he, also, kind of relies on his bandmates.

The album is a cohesive statement that we cannot decide upon. The lyrics seem unusually personal, but could easily adapt to his usual political framework. His words are cryptic, but we're still intoxicated by his dusky imagery: "And it rained all night and washed the filth away/Down New York air-conditioned drains/The click click clack of the heavy black trains/A million engines in neutral." The music that backdrops these lyrics are almost too cohesive, though, with electronic utterances and timbres that are almost always homogeneous and often absent of real dynamic. Occasionally, though, we're knocked over by a sound that hangs eerily over us and glides us through the song. Though it haunts us, we easily forget what exactly it was that was so unnerving.

Yorke's delicate voice over these frenetic movements is a contrast that exists as a culture much like ours. We are figures of emotion. We are humans living in a country of high-speed spirals that move often technologically. This was captured near-flawlessly with every Radiohead album after The Bends. Here, it is more pronounced and representative of our world in decades to come. Unfortunately, these chiefly robotic sounds will build in intensity but never loosen themselves from the theme and go where it should. Instead, we're unsurprised and left with ideas that hardly ever develop into something refreshing.

The worst of it all, though, is Yorke's vocals can get so brilliant on The Eraser. Harrowdown Hill offers up one of the singer's catchiest melodies, and Atoms for Peace sees him approach his sunniest vocals ever, no matter how bittersweet it is. His falsetto melody on Atoms is spirited, yet relaxed, and is an obvious album highlight despite the lifeless music that lingers in the background.

Thom, much love, but I can't give it up to you on this one. It's okay because I don't think you'll disappoint me next year.

Links
The Eraser
Radiohead