Music In Moods : Happy Kid A
In my own humble experience, Radiohead’s Kid A is a perfect record. It’s perfect for any mood. At least to me. But it’s so nice to listen to this record when I feel good. When I’m not anxious. Anxiety is a shape-shifting monster. It’s a lurking, heavy shadow with a scent that hangs in the back of my mind day in, and day out. Sometimes I let it get too comfortable, and it overstays its welcome. You read that right? Overstays its welcome. As if anxiety was ever on the guest list. I guess I’ve gotten used to living with it. If I’m being honest, I have gotten better at managing as I’ve grown more patient and graceful with myself. And some days it clears up almost completely. I can get stoned in the evening and not have to wrestle with the hateful voice that tries to tell me that I haven’t earned my existence. These are the best nights for Kid A.
I love being hit with that opening synth line in Everything In Its Right Place. The lush, yet minimal atmosphere makes me feel understood, and the rhythm of the synth has a swagger that makes me feel cool. I don’t usually feel cool, I never really did. I got used to being told by my peers that my younger brother was cooler than me, more fun to be around. I don’t suppose they were wrong, but that kind of shit definitely gets internalized when you’re a kid. Probably has something to do with that vicious anxiety I keep mentioning. But, when I listen to the first track of Kid A, I feel like I am cool. Because I hear the song and I feel like I get whatever it was Thom York was trying to communicate. And that’s what makes me feel so good. The record continues with Kid A, which is a beautiful song that haunts in a strangely friendly way. Like Casper the friendly ghost. When I’m feeling some shade of blue, Kid A is a perfect track to accompany me in those times as well. But when I’m happy, it seems to support the lighter-hearted colors of my mood. Next in the track list is The National Anthem, which is just a banger. The jazz influences, the absolute mess into which it erupts.. It’s just a fun song.
How To Disappear Completely is a work of artistic genius. It truly is. The production is fairly sparse, being driven by an acoustic guitar and Thom’s forlorn vocal delivery. The swelling whale sounds of Johnny Greenwood’s guitar swing in and out like a crying mother. But what really makes this song a breathtaking piece of music is the use of dissonance throughout the track. The string synths that play throughout the latter half, the off-pitch buzzing sound you hear throughout the beginning.. This song is heartbreaking. But I think that’s why it works so well for me. I have been in the bottomless pit of self, clutching at my throat, gasping for a breath, wondering if I’m ever going to make it out of the sarlacc that is the paranoid mind - and this song speaks to that experience. I’m not here, this isn’t happening. But when I feel good, this song makes me feel contemplative, makes me feel happy to take a moment of quiet. A moment to think. That’s when Treefingers comes in. The icy, ambient atmosphere of the track makes for a nice companion during my pensive moods.
I’ll be honest, Optimistic and In Limbo have always sort of melded together in my head. When I’m listening to the record front-to-back, these two songs are kind of where I check out for a few minutes. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because these two songs snap me out of the hypnosis induced by the first half of the record. Usually this is where my brain really gets active, and I get distracted from the record. This isn’t to disparage the songs, though. It’s just my experience. Maybe somebody reading this can help explain it. Idioteque brings that melancholy sound back though. It’s that whale-sounding synth that does it for me. Then comes Morning Bell, a song with which I’ve never had a particularly strong relationship. Again, I don’t know why. I enjoy listening to it. Maybe because Motion Picture Soundtrack comes after. Jesus, this song. Motion Picture Soundtrack brings that icy, depressed atmosphere all to a head. A lush, distant, beautiful end to the record that has meant so much to me for nearly half of my life.
When I was young, this record was with me. When I’m scared, anxious, depressed, and paranoid - this record is with me. And I think that’s why it is such a treasure to listen to when I feel good. Because I have been through the worst of it, and these sounds made me feel less alone. I’ve invested some serious emotional energy into loving this record, and this band. And it puts my mind at ease knowing that there is somebody out there who makes me feel like I’m not alone, like I’m not an alien. Thanks for reading.
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