Category: General

Amazing.

Both “Reckoning” and “Videotape” brought me to tears.

And all the rest of it.

A friend just called me (or, rather, an email I sent him) “oddly uplifting”.

I like that. Thanks, friend.

I definitely feel both odd and uplifting at times. And they work well, together.

The following is my opinion after hearing the album one time through. I was listening on the bus, then in my co-worker’s cube, so it didn’t always have my full attention. I expect to fully immerse myself over the next week.

But, overall, I like it. How much? Let’s go through the emotional journey they’ve shared with us…

First two tracks, “15 Step” and “Bodysnatchers”, sound energetic but not frenetic. Almost… happy. I said almost – it’s still Radiohead. Then the albums energy level slows down a bit, and there’s a lot of resemblance to Thom Yorke’s solo album work – bare, naked almost (heh, Track 3 is called “Nude”, after all) with just Yorke’s voice and a few instruments. But around Track 5 (“All I Need” and “Faust Arp”) the boys start layering more music down, and by Track 7 (“Reckoner”) I think it almost reaches the heights they achieved on Amnesiac, as far as the electronica, non-pop-y sound the band has evolved into. I have to say that “Reckoner” is my favorite so far – it fit perfectly into my wistful, autumn morning mood as I walked under fluffy gray skies on the sidewalk of inner southeast Portland, on my way to my windowless basement job. Wait, I take that back. The song actually lifted me above the gray walk to my basement job. Good job, Radiohead!

Sadly I don’t have much of an opinion (yet!) about the final songs – they sounded OK as background music to my morning conversation, but they didn’t make me sit up and listen intently. That might be a failure of the songs, or it might be a testament to Ken’s story-telling ability, or some intersection of the two.

It’s not (yet!) my favorite Radiohead album – that honor will always go to “The Bends”. Second favorite? No… that’s for their last album, “Hail To The Thief”, perhaps because I’ve seen the band live during their tour for that album at Coachella.

After only one listen, I’d have to put “In Rainbows” in the middle of their work, along with “Kid A” and “Amnesiac”. Does that sound like a slam? It’s not, at least to me. Radiohead’s work is always head and shoulders above most other artists working today. Even a fair work by them is still awesome and worthwhile.

And I’m sure this release will grow on me.

Yes, I downloaded Radiohead’s newest album, “In Rainbows”.

For some reason the album artwork didn’t come through. Anyone got the album cover floating around? I couldn’t find it with a quick Google, so I pasted in a place-holder (picture of the band).

I’ll just be listening to it over and over and over again for the next week or so.

Maybe I’ll write about the time I ran into a very rich crowd at a strip club. That was fun. Nothin’ like spending other people’s money.

Maybe… later.

We’d been club-hopping.

We’d had “first date” questions.

We’d been dancing – to tribal belly-dancing music.

We’d had a drink (her an organic porter, me a gin and tonic).

We’d walked through the streets, after I offered and she accepted my arm.

We’d discussed what made the iPhone so damned sexy.

We’d done all that, when she stopped short. She looked up at me and said, “Before we go any further, I just want you to know that I don’t intend to pursue this as a physical relationship. Are you OK with that?”

I smiled. Was it a smile of acceptance, or one of embarrassment? I couldn’t tell.

I replied, “I enjoy your company and your conversation. I’m OK with that.” Mine was an honest answer, but I did not mention the disappointment and feeling of rejection. That I kept to myself.

The evening continued.

I was meeting her at 9 PM at the Ash St. Saloon. It was to be our first meeting; we had connected, however tenuously, when I responded to her ad on Craigslist.

I had had a bit of rejection the night before, though it had been immediately forgotten by having a great time with my friend as we prowled the art galleries in the Pearl District for First Thursday.

But tonight, after a long boring day at work, and far too much thinking on my part… I just didn’t feel any excitement in going through with it. The little voice in the back of my head, the negative one, had started. It had nothing to do with her, the girl I was meeting. It had everything to do with me, my fears, my needs.

It was 9:05 PM. I’d been wandering around Old Town, up to Powell’s, down to Backspace, arguing with myself. Do I? Don’t I?

I pulled out my cell phone. I had her number in there.

I hit the little envelope button. I started a new text, addressed to Tracy.

I knew that Tracy would tell me to go through with it. But I knew she wouldn’t judge me too harshly if I didn’t. She’s a good friend that way.

My thumb started pecking out words.

The screen of my phone changed. Incoming call.

Of course, it was her. The girl I was meeting tonight.

“Hello?”

I heard bar noises in the background. We hadn’t spoken on the phone yet, just traded emails. Her voice, as one would imagine of a professional musician, was measured and strong. “Hi. I was just wondering if you were here yet?”

Decision time.

“I am on my way. Just a couple of blocks away.” I turned on my heel and walked in the direction of the bar.

“OK. I’m at the bar.”

“Great! See you soon.”

I hung up.

I was glad she’d called.

You argue like a Republican.

You also have a funny way of agreeing with people.

Why do I go to strip clubs, drink gin and tonic, toss money at exotic dancers, shout and yell and sing along with the punk songs and the old songs? Why do I follow the girls into darkened booths and smell their necks and feel their hair brush along my face? Why do I sit in clouds of cigarette smoke in dive bars and subject my already-fading hearing to raucous buzzing loud sound systems? Why do I flirt with girls who won’t go home with me, and be friendly to the drunk guys but never get their name?

Freedom. It all feels like freedom.

My 9 to 5 job is a straitjacket. My rent is a chain around my neck. Keeping even my tiny apartment clean is worse than a chore, it feels like the equivalent of pushing that boulder up the hill, only to have it roll down again before I reach the top. The political climate is terrifying – and I don’t mean al Qaeda and bin Laden.

But drinking, and dancing, and singing, and loving… it all feels like freedom.

Pulling open my laptop, having the screen project the world’s knowledge into my eyes and head. Freedom.

Putting on some shoes and running, hard, through the streets, feeling my whole body working in concert for the sole purpose of movement. Freedom.

Renting a car and driving it fast up through the mountains, or blasting through the desert. Freedom.

Pulling out my harmonica and running bluesy scales, bending the notes until they’re practically subsonic, or plunking out notes on my keyboard. Freedom.

Dreaming up stories and writing them out, creating characters that are little pieces of me and my friends and all the people I’ve ever known, guiding them into adventures and into and out of tragedies and happiness. Heady freedom indeed.

Hearing Stormy’s giggle in the dark… ah, I can practically taste the freedom.

Please let me wake up just a little bit more free tomorrow. I deserve it. Just a tiny piece of it, a shining silver lightning bolt to brighten up my dull dark existence.

Freedom.

OK, so Radiohead is self-releasing their new album, “In Rainbows”, and offering a “digital download” for… whatever price you’re willing to pay for it. Including nothing, which, as Fake Steve Jobs said, is likely to be the most popular choice.

But, hey… that sounds familiar. No label, download the song from the band’s website, pay whatever you want, DRM-free… Why does that sound so familiar?

Oh, right. Harvey Danger did it first.

It’s good that I like both bands or I’d be mad. Or maybe they’re just waaaaaay ahead of the curve. Rock on.

PS: Duh. I’m going to spend the $80+ for the physical CDs and vinyl and books and tchochkes and stuff. Because I’m a super-fan.