Tag Archives: amnesiac

#1007: Radiohead – Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box

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It’s P time. Everytime I start a new section of this, I’m always weary of the amount of typing that I’ve gotta go through. But it has to be done. I’ve had this voice in my head telling me to have this done by the time I’m 30. That gives me just over two years. Maybe that’s pushing it. There’s still so many songs to go. But it’s worth a try. So let’s get restarted.

‘Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box’ is the opening track on Radiohead’s 2001 Amnesiac album, the second in the group’s iconic – for lack of a better word – left-turn experimental phase after Kid A preceded it a few months before. I want to say that it acted as a bit of a message on part of the band that if people who thought Kid A was strange, then they had no idea. No better way to start of an album with looping metallic chimes and electronic bleep-bloops to keep rock fans on their side. As I’ve come to know it though, that wait for some sort of melody or settled rhythm to kick in is well worth it once those (keys? synths?) come in at 36 seconds.

I’ll always remember where I was when I ‘listened’ to Amnesiac for the first time. ‘Listened’ being in quotation marks because I was asleep for the majority of it. It was a tiring day after A-Level preparation in year 13 days, I think I may have been feeling down at that point too, and Spotify had this free trial offer going on. Though I more or less missed the middle part of the record, I remember still being sort of awake during ‘Packt…’ and digging Thom Yorke’s pitch-corrected vocals and the overall glitchy vibe of the entire thing. Then my consciousness faded away gradually, but then suddenly perked up when ‘Life in a Glasshouse’ started. As a result, those two tracks were the ones from the album that I considered its highlights for some time. I’ve come to appreciate a couple more songs from it, but the record isn’t up there in my personal Radiohead album ranking, to be frank. Doesn’t have that good a flow, I feel.

But, ah, the song. What is ‘Packt…’ about? Well, if you’ve been a longtime reader here, you may have come across a few posts where I’ve flat out stated that I’m not much of a lyrics guy. Even when it comes to writing these, I usually see what other people have said and see whether I agree with it or not. In rare cases, there are some tracks where I’ve felt I got the meaning down, which makes sense to me. This isn’t one of those times. Knowing that during the making of Kid A/Amnesiac, Thom Yorke utilised a method of cutting up lyrics and randomly linking them together, there’s a good chance that there isn’t a truly deep meaning to pick up from these sets of lyrics at all. They do sound great together, though, which to me is really all that matters. Oh, actually the main message is Thom Yorke wants some peace – leave him alone. There we go.

#861: Radiohead – Morning Bell/Amnesiac

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Now, you’re probably thinking, “Didn’t you do already do a post on this song just a few days ago?” The answer to that is yes, but also no. You see, Radiohead recorded two versions of the song ‘Morning Bell’. This one appeared a few months later, when the band released Amnesiac in 2001. To differentiate the two, the ‘Amnesiac’ was tacked on to the end of the song’s title. I think a lot of people prefer the ‘original’ that was released first on Kid A. On a lot of days, I think this version one tops it.

I won’t keep you long; it’s got the same lyrics and melody and all. But the feel is much more different. While there was some warmth to the track’s atmosphere on Kid A, the tone here is icy cold. I imagine Thom Yorke walking through a powerful blizzard miming to it. Or with a candle, stumbling around the inside of a dark and empty house. The 5/4 time is gone, replaced by standard timing, and replacing the usual rock instruments are acoustic guitars, bells, glockenspiels, and a whole lot of other things that I don’t know the name of. It’s so much spookier than the Kid A counterpart. Yorke sounds like a ghost while singing, his voice reverberates all over, and he really wails on this version too. It also doesn’t go through that melodic change, but what it does do is end with Yorke singing “Release me” over that riff by Colin Greenwood which, as I said before, is probably my favourite musical moment in both versions.

I’ll listen to both versions back to back anytime. But overall, I’m glad that this version of the song exists. One isn’t supposed to replace the other in terms of playability. And you get two totally different experiences with the same lyrics and music. I could have tacked it on to the previous post, but I think this one deserves its own.

#736: Radiohead – Life in a Glasshouse

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Continuing their run of awesome album closers, ‘Life in a Glasshouse’ is the last track on Radiohead’s album Amnesiac and, in a way, put an ominous end to their remarkable reinvention era of 2000/2001 when they wowed critics and confused listeners with the aforementioned album and Kid A eight months earlier. Obviously Radiohead always reinvent themselves in some way, but in this period people really questioned what the band were trying to do with this new anti-rock route they were going with.

‘Glasshouse’ is probably the group’s most unique track. There is no other song in Radiohead’s discography that is like it at all. And that’s not me trying to say that it differs in just a minor area from their other material. The track is this sad-sounding, jazzy funeral dirge complete with clarinets, trumpets and a huge big band section. I seem to remember lying in bed, half-asleep, listening to Amnesiac for the first time in late 2012. Though I thought the rest of the album was alright (an opinion I still hold today, it’s probably one of my least favourite Radiohead albums) this track stood out to me as a highlight while also bringing a downer to whatever dream I was having. The track itself is inspired by an incident where a wife of a famous actor covered her windows with newspapers to prevent paparazzi and the tabloids from getting any proper photos of her. But Thom Yorke’s delivery on ‘someone’s listening in’, especially at the end, is very creepy. Makes me feel like I’m being watched. We are all being watched in some way.

Because the jazzy instrumental was provided by a specific band, led by musician Humphrey Lyttelton who passed away in 2008, the band have never performed the song live. Except for that one time that they did in 2001. Below is Lyttleton’s band and Radiohead on Later with Jools Holland performing the track.

#703: Radiohead – Knives Out

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It took me a while to really appreciate this song. I’ve never been the biggest fan of Amnesiac as a whole, but it does contain some of Radiohead’s best work. In the past I would always hear this song and maintain my focus on Thom Yorke’s vocal. For a long time it never impressed me. Seemed kind of aimless. It rises and falls and that was about it. Quite run of the mill for his voice.

Then, some time last year, I revisited the album. Instead of focusing on Yorke’s voice, I turned my attention to the band’s performance. The ‘Paranoid Android-esque’ lick that opens the track, the wispy hiss that comes from Phil Selway’s ride cymbal… Colin Greenwood’s bassline. All these little things suddenly became much more apparent. ‘Knives Out’ isn’t all about Thom Yorke’s voice, but how every other instrument interplays with it. When you take all of those elements into consideration, it makes Yorke’s melody so much more engaging.

The song is a very atmospheric one. Dark and pessimistic in tone. There’s a lot of cannibalistic imagery in there, though it’s also based on the ideas of looking into a dying person’s eyes and someone walking out on their family. Not the cheeriest of songs but one of those you need when you’re feeling quite low.