ANNA WEBBER
Assistant A&E Editor
Thom Yorke’s first solo album is absolutely disturbing, agonizing, even excruciating to listen to at times, but the passion clearly exceeds the pain. “The Eraser” is not only tolerable, but intensely beautiful. Many of us know Yorke as Radiohead’s ethereal front man, but his solo project shows a more eerie side to his personality — it allows us to escape into his psyche.
On the CD, Yorke sounds worn out, utterly emotion sick and his voice is fragile. This album is Yorke with his computer, processing electronic beats and kicking out lyrics that sometimes scratch the bone, with little guitar or physical instruments aside from his voice.
The first song “The Eraser” is so heavy and full of angst, but it is still easy to relate to Yorke’s feelings for people who have been in a complicated love relationship.
“Please excuse me but I’ve got to ask/ Are you only being nice/ Because you want something?” Yorke’s pitchy voice resonates. “The more you try to erase me/ The more that I appear.” This time, his words are almost a sigh, whispering the words that are probably stinging the soul of the one who they’re intended for, his “fairy tale Arab princess.”
In “Analyse” the lyrics hit hard at the end of the distressing song: “You’re just playing a part/ Oh there’s no time/ To analyze.” Listening to it is like being stuck in the noisy confusion inside Yorke’s head. But really listening to the words makes one think about the greater purpose of life that Yorke sees, and each individual’s place in it.
“Black Swan” is reminiscent of Radiohead’s “I Might Be Wrong,” and though it is a little lighter in tone than the rest of the songs, its distressing temper weeps the message. “What will grow crooked you can’t make straight/ it’s the price that you’ve gotta pay. You cannot kick start a dead horse/ you just cross yourself and walk away.”
The beauty of the lyrics is that it makes the listener feel like a part of the song, not just an outsider.
It is almost too easy to picture Yorke in a dirty motel room, sobbing, his tears dripping and seeping through the keyboard lamenting his woes, drowning these electro ballads. Many people find him disturbing, strange and bizarre. Yorke probably feels that too.
The album was recorded with Nigel Godrich, but it was kept a secret until Radiohead went on tour so that no one would be talking or wondering if the band was splitting up or not, according to Rolling Stone’s Rob Sheffield.
The cover art is free and sprawling, depicting the chaotic psychosis that the music is all about, and the basic pen and ink drawings run parallel with the nine bizarre tracks. As the art lacks color and direction, so do the songs. If one finds they love melody and Radiohead style symphony arrangements, suggest they don’t buy this album, because it offers neither.
The only way to describe this album to Radiohead fans is that the pre-programmed “Kid A” grew up into a man with emotions and so much heartache that he refuses to be erased.
Those who dug The Who’s “Tommy” would love this album, because though it is completely different musically, it is equally bizarre. And if Bjork’s electric romance tracks on “Vespertine” met “The Eraser,” something big would happen — an earth shattering clash of love and lovesickness.
“The Eraser” is a mood piece. Yorke is trapped in the doldrums, stuck in the dynamics of his mind, and snared in the complexities of love. He cares and he does not care, he hurts but he feels no pain, but when it’s painless, he is writhing in pain.
08-28-2006
