Album reviews

Radiohead

‘The King of Limbs’

(WARNER MUSIC KOREA)

When one comes across the rare person who adamantly insists that no, they do not like Radiohead, it’s usually a simple matter: they obviously don’t know what they’re talking about.

Radiohead unveiled their eighth album over the weekend, their first fully independent release since they cut ties with longtime distributor EMI. “The King of Limbs,” which supposedly found titular inspiration from the ancient oaks of the U.K.’s Savernake Forest, sees the group branch further down the road of (loosely) ambient electronic. While the sound may not be immediately explosive, its winning trait is still in that literary element most comfortable in the niche of darkly honest humor.

Long gone are the days of lively electro-rock, replaced by endless amalgamations of jazz elements, electronic-based beats, guitar plucking and disjointed portraits of a minimalist dystopia.

“Lotus Flower,” which the band revealed last year, is perhaps the most representative number of the short, eight-track album. The hook on that sharp note, the light build-up paired with the narrative voice of Thom Yorke come together in revelatory understanding and self-epiphany. The recent release of the particularly aesthetic black-and-white music video, featuring the all-estranging dance moves of frenetically entrancing Yorke, depicts the song’s lyrical poetry urging audiences to blossom into their own identities: “Slowly we unfold as lotus flowers/Cause all I want is the moon upon a stick/Just to see what if.”

“Little By Little” sounds most like the Radiohead of old in its defunct shisha lounge feel, but then gives way to the calm steady of the remaining tracks. The light taste is just enough to satiate before breaking to an instrumental and picking up again.

The album swings to and fro, the artificial (a staccato electric guitar) to the natural (vibrating piano chords), but it’s clear that each is a work of art in its own right. “Bloom” ingratiates with notes maddeningly tripping over one another, “Codex” slyly minces puns while “Separator” plays as an exploration in the world of low-fi and no frills.

Though it’s been 18 years since Radiohead first became known the world over, the group still finds common ground with their audience. Striking a delicate balance between the just-literal and the just-poetic, the notes of “Kings” get better with each play, listeners uncovering the hidden wit layer by layer.

Four stars out of four.

Why we recommend it: Radiohead continues to shape the music scene with an intelligent discourse and clever awareness that sometimes, basic really is best. Except, this is one of their most complex albums yet.

Best tracks: “Lotus Flower,” “Little by Little” and “Separator”

— INES MIN

Hilary Hahn

‘Higdon & Tchaikovsky Violin Concertos’

(DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON)

Artists like Hilary Hahn show why classical music is classical: It’s timeless yet very much alive, here and now. Sure, the Billboard-topping violinist has a pop princess appeal, but she’s first and foremost a serious musician.

She kills two birds with one stone in her hot new album: the world’s first recording of the Pulitzer Prize-winning 2008 concerto by Jennifer Higdon, dedicated to Hahn, and the violinist’s first recording of the 1878 Tchaikovsky masterpiece. Critics of contemporary classics may rest their case, for Hahn and the Vasily Petrenko-led Royal Liverpool Philharmonic conjure up a dreamy, polychromatic brilliance. Hahn brings a tamed urgency to Higdon’s electrifying musical concoction, from the chime-crowned opening “1726” to stormy orchestral parts and a flying cadenza.

The beautiful modern piece is paired with the original, uncut version of Tchaikovsky’s Concerto in D major, Op. 35, which is thoughtfully played, though with lots of gesture and zing.

Three-and-a-half stars out of four.

— LEE HYO-WON

R. Kelly

‘Love Letter’

(SONY MUSIC KOREA)

R. Kelly may have a rocky past, but you’d never know it from the 180-degree spin in the all-romance “Love Letter.” Opening up with a direct introduction to the audience, humorously confronting bootleggers, Kelly pays sincere tribute to the soul of decades past.

“Radio Message” harks back to the 1950s, with other tracks working through the rest of the decades to recreate a nostalgic love. Too bad that doesn’t mean that the album is safe from the mundane. Several of the songs fall into the same trench of boredom, unable to innovate past the cliched lines of a song once-heard.

Restraint in the sexually explicit suddenly exalts Kelly’s music to a legit level, showing just enough skin to be truly titillating (“Taxi Cab”). The performer maintains a clean level of interest, paired well with his impeccable voice. The Marvin Gaye-inspired “Love Is” is one of the more memorable tracks, featuring K. Michelle, through it lacks oomph.

Two stars out of four.