The early word on Kid A likened it to a Pink Floyd album, albeit one without hit singles or zillion-dollar sales potential. In reality, what Radiohead have done with their fourth full-length is reinvent the LP form itself. From the song sequencing to the disc packaging to the music, Kid A recalls the glory days of albums, when the listener would comb the artwork for hidden meanings while blasting the record through headphones. Though the music press wants to downgrade it to a millennial Dark Side of the Moon , the disc is actually one of the most original works released in ages, proving that Radiohead are truly unique figures in an increasingly bland pop-music scene. The real issue, though, is how the new record stacks up to OK Computer , an album that topped many a best-of list in 1997.
Songs float by in dreamlike soundscapes that require several hearings to sink in.
In fact, on first listen, Kid A is a sprawling, glorious mess, demanding your attention in only the subtlest of ways. By the time the 50 minutes of music are over, you'll be hard-pressed to remember any of it. But subsequent spins reveal its layered beauty, and therein lies the Kid 's real reward. Silences permeate the disc, an effect that only increases the nocturnal feel of most of the songs. This tension continues on the title track, probably the album's most disturbing moment.