Radiohead

Kid A

A constant battle between digital versus organic plays throughout Kid A, like an organism trying to reach homeostasis but is instead suspended in a state between entropy and equilibrium.

This emphasis on texture, this reliance on elliptical songs, means that Kid A is easily the most successful electronica album from a rock band: it doesn't even sound like the work of a rock band, even if it does sound like Radiohead.

About half of Kid A is a legitimate "move into electronica" and not a case of "bringing in the synths" as everyone from Genesis to The Strokes has done, when inspiration and musicianship fails them; after all, the dynamics of pop or rock music  just aren't there.

The fans will persevere and discover that Kid A is not only Radiohead's bravest album but its best one as well.

As unnervingly cryptic as Kid A can be, it is a genuinely challenging work in a generally unchallenging time.

Kid A forces its patrons to submerge themselves into the wiles of noise, to work for melody and signifieds, to seek within and find something that wants, needs, and is able to understand. It may not be easy, but music shouldn’t have to be.

This is pop, a music of ornery, glistening guile and honest ache, and it will feel good under your skin once you let it get there.

For all its feats of brinkmanship, the patently magnificent construct called 'Kid A' betrays a band playing one-handed just to prove they can, scared to commit itself emotionally.

Kid A will tax even those who thought Fitter Happier was the catchiest thing on their last record.

What bothers me is how thinly constructed it is. Whatever messages it attempts to convey are buried underneath a self-indulgent mess.