RipFork

Artist: Radiohead

Album: Kid A

Reviewer: Brent Dicrescenzo

Pitchfork, 2000

Writing Disorders: Idea Fever, Purple Hemorrhage

Length of Review: 1238 words

Most emo phrase: “The butterscotch lamps along the walls of the tight city square bled upward into the cobalt sky, which seemed as strikingly artificial and perfect as a wizard’s cap.”

Hyphen Violations: womb-like, string-laden, whale-chant

TMI: “For months, I feared playing the song about car crashes in my car, just as I’d feared passing 18- wheelers after nearly being crushed by one in 1990.”

This may be the funniest music review ever written. And Brent, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time. While I’m sure you’re in your 40′s by now and probably don’t even remember your writing, the joyousness of this occasion is at least fresh in my mind. Let’s begin, shall we?

As is usually the case with your reviews, this 1200-word monstrosity begins with a lengthy personal anecdote.

“The metal skeleton of the stage ate one end of Florence’s Piazza Santa Croce, on the steps of the Santa Croce Cathedral. Michelangelo’s bones and cobblestone laid beneath. I stared entranced…”

Wait, wait, wait. STOP. Is this a travelogue or a music review, Anthony Bourdain? I’m wondering if you wrote this to add to the substance of the review or to simply say, “hey ladies, I been to Italy!” In either case, you don’t need it. We get it. You like the band.

After rambling about Italy for a good four paragraphs, you finally get to the album review itself. At that point, it’s a parade of some of the clunkiest metaphors ever to enter the pages of music opinion. Behold!

“Kid A sounds like a clouded brain trying to recall an alien abduction”

“Everything in Its Right Place” opens like Close Encounters spaceships communicating with pipe organs.”

“Brash brass bursts from above like Terry Gilliam’s animated foot.”

“The primal, brooding guitar attack of “Optimistic” stomps like mating Tyrannosaurs.”

“Words accumulate and stick in his mouth like eye crust.”

Call me crazy, but I think it takes a certain kind of introvert to write this stuff and then a few months later write that Tool’s defining element was “wanking sludge.” And how do you know that Tyrannosaurs stomped while mating? Perhaps the whole thing was a very subdued affair based on mutual respect and affection. Personally, I think the guitar on “Optimistic” sounds more like a guitarist who knows how to make a good riff. I’m also pretty sure that eye crust would dissolve in the mouth…not that I really want to think about it any more than you already made me.

Oh, and then there’s this gem:

“The experience and emotions tied to listening to Kid A are like witnessing the stillborn birth of a child while simultaneously having the opportunity to see her play in the afterlife on Imax.”

Let’s try something fun. I’m going to start the sentence with “baby,” and then I’m going to replace the phrase “listening to Kid A” with “having sexual intercourse with you.” Now we get:

“Baby, the experience and emotions tied to having sexual intercourse with you are like witnessing the stillborn birth of a child while simultaneously having the opportunity to see her play in the afterlife on Imax.”

I hope to God no one would say that after sex, but I think it does illustrate a point. Does an awkward metaphor like that sound any less dumb when it’s applied to art?

Oh yeah, back to you liking the band.

“it’s clear that Radiohead must be the greatest band alive, if not the best since you know who.”

No, it’s not clear. It’s clear to you because you liked the album a lot. I’m pretty sure most die-hard Van Halen and U2 fans would say the same thing about their faves. Radiohead’s a cool band, for sure. But you’re making yourself sound ridiculous, like a boy, who instead of crying wolf cries:

“A teardrop of fire shot from space and disappeared behind the church where the syrupy River Arno crawled”

This isn’t our last meeting, Brent. Not by a longshot.