With little advanced warning Radiohead releases A Moon Shaped Pool, a downward affair that strays from their broad musical diversity as it focuses squarely on desolation.
The first few seconds of violin staccatos, echoing percussion and wailing croon of Thom Yorke puts a foreboding smile on your face as you begin to discover the possibility of the fact. Radiohead is back in their surreal, hauntingly beautiful style of its leading single “Burn The Witch.” The album moves to the lengthy song about “Daydreaming” in the soft lull of a piano overshadowed by echoing glitches and orchestral melodies. Accompanying the track is a poignant music video, which more like a film is a somber trek from door to door to door – earnestly following a noticeably aged Yorke who tries to make sense at where the connecting doorways lead.
“Decks Dark” chills to the bone in an extraterrestrial metaphor over the darkest hour, droning onward in what seems to be the vibrant undercurrent of the album. “Desert Island Disk” largely has Yorke crooning softly over acoustic guitar strums with fuzzy background echoes, where you start to wonder if you really know what he means as he sings about the way and the light. “Ful Stop” drones forebodingly in synthesized madness, as the words “truth will mess you up” and “you really messed up” repeatedly echo in ominous fashion. More than a moment but less than a typically fleshed out song, the piece hearkens back to the Kid A era.
Similarly to the second track “Glass Eyes” plays as a beautiful piano ballad, yet more briefly and more understated as it escapes away from society in an anxiously alienated way. Though soon as the weight of the situation weighs in the song abruptly cuts short. As the background echoes of A Moon Shaped Pool repeat onward the “Identikit” track plays as a thematic piece on about broken hearts making it rain. While the overall feeling of the record is more sorrowful than their usual outings, this feels especially heavy. “The Numbers” drones on what could be Yorke’s emphatic stand on ‘the powers that be’ as he bluntly declares that, “We are of the earth. To her we do return. The future is inside us. It’s not somewhere else.” Interpretations may vary, while the brooding sentiments continue.
Peculiar bossa nova roots curiously strum and echo in “Present Tense” on the wondering aches of relational attachments, the sort of simplicity where “in you I’m lost” can be both a good and bad thing. “Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief” alludes to the counting rhyme of English children, though only on the surface. Like many simply worded themes on the album, the birds and fish and pretty allude to more than what they really appear to be. Then comes “True Love Waits” in closing, a fan favorite since 1995 yet this iteration weighs heavily in heavily echoed piano balladry. As the chorus pleads “don’t leave” the subtle intensity of from the album weighs further down. You almost start to feel sorry for the man.
Honestly, A Moon Shaped Pool is a bitter pill to swallow even as an ardent enthusiast. The gloom and doom has always been characteristic to Radiohead’s sound, yet never without a single reprieve. More than that the songs move from an exuberant high of excitement to a wallowing pit of despair. Simply put it’s a hard feat to follow through the entirety of the journey in one go without getting wrapped up in feeling utterly lost. Here’s to hoping their next outing sees the light.