Pitchfork

The week after Radiohead's OK Computer was released in the U.S., it debuted in the album charts at #21; bowing at #1 was the Prodigy's The Fat of the Land. In the U.S., the Prodigy were heralded as the bellwethers for electronica, while, in the face of this newly cobbled-together marketing schematic-- and exponentially rising sales of country and hip-hop-- Radiohead were charged by some with the task of "saving" rock music. Oddly, the two records seemed to have opposite effects. Throughout the late 1990s and early 00s, Thom Yorke practically functioned as a Warp publicist, embracing the possibilities and future of electronic music but retaining the charisma, scope, and grandeur of pop and, in the process, helping to expose rock fans to electronic textures and sounds. Meanwhile, the Prodigy-- along with Nine Inch Nails, Rage Against the Machine, and Korn-- inadvertently spawned the well-selling mook rock.

Four years later, Radiohead had pushed too far in the "wrong" direction: The band's next two albums-- Kid A and Amnesiac-- strayed far left of the organic and "authentic" (read: instruments carved from wood) for many of those same people who had exalted the group the previous decade. Critics faced with having to either step outside of their historical comfort zones and recalibrate their sensibilities or retreat back to the familiar took the easy road and embraced a New Rock Revolution that, in the U.S., never came to fruition. In the wake of it all, Radiohead themselves retreated from the spotlight, becoming the sort of arena-sized DIY band that, oddly, Pearl Jam morphed into during the previous decade, and eventually leaving their record label, Capitol, altogether.

Capitol's eventual response is, quite naturally, to collect the group's older material in a more pocket-sized package. To its credit, the label is going all-out with these releases, offering not only two different CD or digital versions of the set (a 17-track single disc or a 30-track 2xCD package), but also a 4xLP vinyl version that could be a nice addition to a fan's collection and pretty kickass DVD that even casual observers should love. Make no mistake then, the middling and low scores up there don't reflect a general dissatisfaction with the notion of carving up Radiohead's albums (though both the flow of Kid A and the tension of Amnesiac are masterstrokes of pacing), the very idea of career-spanning compilations, or even these records being compiled without the band's participation-- for one thing, avoiding the DVD on those grounds would be foolish. (And to be fair to Capitol, the label always seemed highly supportive of Radiohead, investing plenty of resources and marketing into their records-- especially OK Computer and Kid A.) No, it's much more utilitarian than that: Namely, for whom are these records meant?

The question is easier to answer for the single-disc version, which functions as a Radiohead sampler. A crisp, 17-track collection, it features the band's most well-liked singles, plus Kid A tracks "Idioteque", "Everything in Its Right Place", and "Optimistic" (remember, there were no singles pulled from that LP), plus the title track to The Bends. All told it's a murderer's row-- "Paranoid Android", "Lucky", "Pyramid Song", "Street Spirit (Fade Out)", "No Surprises", "Creep", the aforementioned Kid A tracks, and many more. Only the sleepy "High and Dry" and requisite Hail to the Thief representative "2+2=5" are relative duds. If you've turned away from Radiohead this decade or if you aren't hooked by the more abstract pieces they've made since OK Computer, it's a good way to catch up. The tracks themselves are a 10, and if you're actually curious but unfamiliar with the group, by all means buy it. Yet even saying that, this isn't a band with a winding, difficult discography to navigate, and 10 of these 17 tracks are from The Bends and OK Computer. Assuming CDs exist in the near future, I suspect this compilation will become more useful in years to come, when younger listeners who haven't engaged with Radiohead throughout most of the group's lifetime want a place to sort out what the fuss is about. For the rest of us, it's just not needed.

The 2xCD version, although a better value-for-money, does even less to justify its existence. Starting rather cleverly with "Airbag" and "I Might Be Wrong", aka the two lead tracks from Capitol's in-print Radiohead mini-LPs (hint, hint), it goes on to add another seven tracks from the 1995-2003 albums (great songs, but most of them weaker than the ones on CD1), a pair of clunkers from 1993 debut Pablo Honey, and the only two things here that come close to being rare: The B-side "Talk Show Host" and the live acoustic solo Thom Yorke version of "True Love Waits" from the previously hinted-at I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings-- the only other time that song has appeared on record in any form. The packaging is merely a few promo photos and a long essay I didn't read (sorry). With little rhyme or reason to the songs that fill out this second disc, it becomes even more disappointing that a bonus isn't given over to an alternate view of the group-- B-sides or rarities, a collection which would be of great use, or their more adventurous work. Instead, this compilation is dominated by a pair of central ideas of what Radiohead sound like: emotionally nourishing, impressionistic balladeers, or crunchy, tech- and texture-savvy rockers. The outliers, moments when the band has dabbled more in mood, atmosphere, or a love of pure sound-- think "Kid A", "Climbing Up the Walls", or exquisite Amnesiac tracks like the clanging "Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box", the prescient paranoia of "Life in a Glasshouse", the unsettlingly gorgeous "Like Spinning Plates", or the punchdrunk "You and Whose Army?"-- aren't represented at all. (Weirdly, I don't miss anything from Hail to the Thief, a collection of songs that works better live than on record.)

So, sure, artistically this could be a much stronger 2xCD set, but it's rightfully in Capitol's interest to spread the love and highlight all of the band's releases, each of which the label has a monetary stake in promoting. The latest Radiohead album, In Rainbows, is of course not one of them. Radiohead's decision to first self-release that record was heralded as an early warning sign that the major-label system was faltering. In truth, it's more of a late sign: With so little creative energy engaged in the hope and promise of making grand, heroic rock music-- and so few reliable, national delivery systems for it now that MTV and radio have become increasingly marginal-- the guitar set is still, incredibly, mostly left with warmed-over sounds from the 90s (on modern rock radio) or earlier (everyone else). It's no wonder that New Rock Revolution, itself mostly revivalism, had so many ardent cheerleaders.

Radiohead's purposeful retreat from the spotlight-- leaving Capitol Records; the patronage-like, "we leak, you pay" pricing policy that accompanied the announcement of In Rainbows-- returned them briefly to the headlines but did little to place their actual music in the public consciousness on any grand, communicative scale. ("Bodysnatchers" was a semi-hit on modern rock radio.) Less than a decade after Radiohead invigorated critics and many listeners by becoming one of the few contemporary bands willing to both strive to reach a mass audience and cast its eyes to the corners and cracks of the pop landscape, they had become another niche group in a world full of them. What's more, the mechanics and poor health of the music industry-- with Radiohead, Trent Reznor, and others now experimenting with communicating directly to the faithful rather than to any and all potential listeners-- mean we may never see another platinum-selling rock group like this again. It's no surprise then that the music industry's response is to repackage and recycle, as quickly as possible.