Thom Yorke – The Eraser
Here’s a little bit of history, just in case you’re twelve years old or something: There once was a band called Radiohead who made two pop-rock albums, followed by a gigantic nerd opus called OK Computer that set the world’s population of dweebic collegiate brow-furrowers on fire like so many lighters at a Bon Jovi encore. After that, Thom Yorke had a stroke and forgot how to make words with his mouth, and Jonny Greenwood decided that he was too smart for tunes. Since then, they’ve been periodically plopping out bewildering hunks of semi-musical garbage which nerds pretend to enjoy in order to seem smart.
While Radiohead’s release schedule isn’t too regular, they are certainly prolific in one regard: the albums they occasionally do release are so jam-packed with stupid ideas that even the most voracious consumer of failure will be tided over for a good many years. However, within the constraints of a band so meticulous and perfectionist about giving each and every bad idea the mucous-shine of overwrought humorlessness, Thom Yorke found himself cooking up more bad ideas than could be accommodated by their plodding schedule. Nerds rejoice: Yorke’s po-faced pretension has finally burst the Radiohead dam, and a muddy tide of bad ideas is now spilling toward you like a tidal wave.
Unfettered by the musicality of his bandmates, Thom Yorke is now free to develop his music in whatever direction he sees fit. Judging by the prevailing sonic trends on The Eraser, that direction is “clicking and moaning.” While the record is comprised of approximately 45% clicks and 35% moans, Yorke puts his sonic genius on display by bunging the cracks with liberal smattering of beeps, bonks, shuffles, grating monotone loops, and a whirring cavalcade of sundry electronic nuisances.
Basically, imagine a Radiohead album with all the music removed and replaced by irritating, ticking bullshit.
Oh, silly me, that’s what the last three and a half Radiohead albums have sounded like anyway. How about this: imagine that Radiohead had all their musical instruments stolen and yet were contractually obligated to deliver an album in one hour.
You know what? This is all too complicated for something so fundamentally simple. Just imagine that Thom Yorke made a really boring, dashed-off solo album cobbled together exclusively from the worst elements of Radiohead’s recent career and lacking entirely in redeeming features. Now imagine Pitchfork Media ejaculating out their fingertips and every nerd you know not shutting the fuck up about it, ever. This record is seriously terrible, and when I say “seriously,” don’t mean that I’m serious about the album being terrible, I mean that the album is serious about being terrible.
Addendum: 22% of the letters in Thom Yorke’s name are superfluous. Fuck him.
Stan said:lol, Thorpe is the shit. Even better than his Radiohead review is his review of Muse:
"When Muse engages in musical masturbation, which is all the time, they go for broke. They don’t just “jerk off” like the average Joe; they spread out a tarp and set up five video cameras on tripods and set out little bottles of scented oil from far-flung regions of the Orient. They crank up one of those Martin Denny Exotica records and get fully nude and do things to themselves that would, if Caligula happened to walk into the room, make him throw up his hands and shout “enough!” They really explore their bodies."
lok said:lol I love jaded reviews like that, it really shows the transparency of character. Anyone who says Kid A is a, "bewildering hunks of semi-musical garbage which nerds pretend to enjoy in order to seem smart." knows onthing about music. They're the same people who say someone like Charlize Theron is ugly because they dont want to personally fuck her.