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A Moon Shaped Pool

Radiohead (2016)

I don’t know how Stanley Donwood does it. The cover art, I mean. Radiohead has a track record of some all-time great album covers. Kid A, In Rainbows, and OK Computer are just a few. But A Moon Shaped Pool, man, this cover is something else. Apparently, how he made the cover was that he used liquid marbling, inks floated on thickened water. Usually an artist will tilt the canvas or use a brush from there, but Donwood just put it outside and let the weather take its course. The resulting cover was one of the most unique and beautiful covers ever made. One that almost does the album justice. 

In essence, A Moon Shaped Pool is a breakup album. Yes, another one. I think you can pretty much look at the last lyrics of any of the songs to figure that out. It’s an album released after Thom Yorke’s divorce with Rachel Owen in 2015. Married since 2003, they had two children together between 2001 and 2004. A Moon Shaped Pool, an album largely about their relationship, was released just six months before Owen passed away from cancer. The album itself feels oddly fitting for the situation, despite it being recorded and released before Owen’s death.

Despite pretty much every song ending with a lyric about Yorke’s relationship, the opener, “Burn the Witch,” doesn’t. Instead, it’s a strangely political song. Thematically, it feels more like a Pink Floyd song than a Radiohead song, though the two bands share a lot of similar themes across their discographies. In my eyes, “Burn the Witch” acts as a message warning about mob mentality and authoritarianism, strangely similar to themes explored in Pink Floyd’s “Sheep.” Some of the lyrics are pretty clear and straightforward, and all of them come back to the same chorus.

“Stay in the shadows
Cheer at the gallows
This is a round up
This is a low flying panic attack
Sing a song on the jukebox that goes

Burn the witch
Burn the witch
We know where you live”

Musically, this song features a strangely percussive orchestra in place of a traditional electric guitar for the chords. They play a stabby, rhythmic chord progression, and you almost can’t even tell that they were an orchestra to begin with. That is, until the second verse comes in and you hear the swooping and intricate violins play a countermelody with Yorke’s vocals. It’s a masterpiece in production, seamlessly fitting a classical orchestra, a drum machine, and a contemporary singer into one song.

Let’s zoom out. A Moon Shaped Pool is a sort of step back, at least by Radiohead standards. They abandoned a lot of the complex loops and experimentation that we saw on The King of Limbs, in favor of simpler, more intimate orchestration and a more classical vibe. One of the ways we see the simplicity is in the album’s tracklist. If you have a keen eye, or know a bit about Radiohead, you’ll know that the tracklist order for this album is completely alphabetical. It starts with “Burn the Witch,” and ends with “True Love Waits.” It’s an interesting approach, but I can’t see any different track listing for the album. Knowing Radiohead and how particular they are with things like this makes it feel like it was less of a conscious decision and more a matter of where things fell.

That simplicity is what makes “Daydreaming” so powerful. It’s made up, at its core, of a ridiculously simple piano arpeggio that makes you wonder if it was even written by Jonny Greenwood (spoiler: it was). But combine that with Yorke’s emotive vocals and unparalleled auxiliary effects and you get something special. “Daydreaming” is a song about realizing that your life is in a new phase. And it was for Yorke, who had just separated from his partner of twenty-three years.

“A white room
By a window
Where the sun comes through

And we are
Just happy to serve
Just happy to serve you”

The song ends with a gorgeous string ensemble joining the already-gorgeous piano, with intimate backing vocals and some other instruments (which I have no idea what they are). The instruments decrescendo, and are accompanied by an overwhelming cello, playing a violent melody over the other instruments. The final section is back to the piano on its own, this time accompanied by a strange snoring-sounding vocal… thing. Turns out, this is actually Yorke saying the words “Half of my life,” slowed down and reversed to the point of being unrecognizable. This is, of course, a reference to his marriage to Rachel Owen, which took twenty-three years, exactly half of his life.

I could talk about that song forever. For me, it’s the epitome of the record. Beautiful, expansive, thought provoking, and sad. But just like Radiohead, we can’t stay in one place for too long. The next song is “Decks Dark,” a song with remarkably similar instrumentation to “Daydreaming,” but is a stark contrast in feel and emotions. For me, it’s a metaphor for how suddenly your life can go to shit.

“And into your life, there comes a darkness
There’s a spacecraft blockin’ out the sky
And there’s nowhere to hide
You run to the back and you cover your ears
But it’s the loudest sound you’ve ever heard”

Alright, it’s not just “for me,” it’s a pretty clear metaphor. Regardless, it’s still a really interesting feeling. The feeling of knowing just how fast an existential crisis could happen. One moment, you’re eating dinner with your family. It’s a warm summer afternoon, you laugh as you pour more gravy on your steak. The next moment, the ground shakes. Houses collapse in on themselves, street lights spark and burn. There’s nowhere safe, no running from an earthquake.

I think Yorke is also speaking about how fast a relationship can go awry. The feeling of waking up, and realizing that the red flags you’ve been ignoring for so long are just too much. It’s odd, how fast you can go from “You are all I need” to “I love you, but enough is enough.” 

Four tracks in, it’s been… sad. Sad, to say the least. But coming off a guitar-centered track in “Desert Island Disk,” one that ends with “Different types of love are possible,” there’s still hope. Of course, this means an entire change of pace. “Ful Stop” is a complete removal of all the orchestral and classical elements that define A Moon Shaped Pool, a song dominated by synths, bass and drums.

“You really messed up everything
You really messed up everything
If you could take it all back again
Strike up the tinderbox
Why should I be good if you’re not?
This is a foul-tasting medicine
A foul-tasting medicine
To be trapped in your full stop”

This is one of my favorite moments in Radiohead’s entire discography. It’s just so groovy. As the drums transition onto the ride, playing a broken groove with a snare-filled backbeat, the guitars enter, creating a hypnotic section of the song. Yorke repeats the line “truth will mess you up,” beneath the other main lyric, “all the good times.” It’s a section that builds tremendous tension throughout the album, one that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon. It feels strangely danceable, while containing some really sporadic rhythms that would usually make a song un-danceable.

The song transitions out of the bridge, back into the previous bassline and drum groove. A single electric guitar stands out, playing in what seems to be a different time signature from the rest of the track. As it turns out, this guitar is actually in 6/4 time, as is the rest of the song. The disconnected feel of the guitar comes from the staggered rhythm, where the “1” count is different from the rest of the track. It’s really interesting, at least for my fellow music nerds. Lyrically, Yorke just repeats the same phrase.

 “Will you take me back?” 

A treasure not appreciated by many, the next song I want to talk about is “The Numbers.” Lyrically, it’s a pretty simple song. It’s a protest referring to political and environmental crises around the world, most notably the imminent climate crisis. Like so much of Radiohead’s work, this is unbelievably relevant now, ten years later. We’re in the wake of some of the most incompetent leadership, some of the worst crimes against humanity, and an ever-rising global temperature.

“We call upon the people
People have the power
The numbers don’t decide
Your system is a lie
The river running dry
The wings of a butterfly
And you may pour us away like soup
Like we’re pretty broken flowers
We’ll take back what is ours
Take back what is ours

One day at a time”

It’s an important message, but what really speaks to me about this song is the instrumentation. I just love this chord progression, and the smooth feel it gives the song. The cascading pianos, The soaring orchestra. Radiohead is firing on all cylinders instrumentally. When you think of Radiohead’s best instrumental work, you think of “How to Disappear Completely.” Of “Paranoid Android.” This song is a different kind of beast, but a beast nonetheless. [88/10]

Living through an emotional crisis is perhaps the hardest thing a person can do. Whether that be the loss of a loved one, a breakup, or that sinking feeling that you have no control, carrying that weight is one of the hardest things that everyone, sooner or later, will go through. This is such a complex idea to be explored in a five minute song, yet “Present Tense” manages to do it regardless. Its shuffly drums, its light fingerpicked guitar, Yorke’s smooth vocals. It just fits. I don’t know how to describe it. The chorus is one of the most gorgeous moments on the album. It feels like an acceptance. It’s what you get when you realize that you’re just going to have to carry that weight forever. That there’s nothing you can change, but there’s a little beauty in it. The beauty of becoming a better person. The beauty of change, of the unknown. You’re finally entering the next stage of your life.

“I won’t get heavy
Don’t get heavy
Keep it light, and
Keep it moving
I am doing
No harm

As my world
Comes crashing down
I’ll be dancing
Freaking out
Deaf, dumb
And blind”

It’s pretty common for a song to be honed for decades on end, especially with Radiohead. Some notable examples are “Motion Picture Soundtrack,” “Nude,” and the aforementioned “Burn the Witch.” But none of these come close to having the emotional and historical impact that “True Love Waits” did. It first debuted in 1995, on the band’s tour for The Bends. Since then, it’s taken many different forms, including an acoustic ballad as seen on the live album I Might Be Wrong, a looping electronic song like on Kid A Mnesia, and finally as the minimalist piano ballad we find on A Moon Shaped Pool. Lyrically, this song is as devastating as it gets. It’s someone begging for their partner to stay. They remember the intimacy they shared, and aren’t ready to let go of it yet. Musically, this song is really simple. Apart from the main piano and the vocals, there’s only a second piano playing gorgeous glissandos across the keyboard. It’s a song that truly fits the saying: quietly devastating. It’s a song that doesn’t care for your mental health. It’s a song that contains one of my favorite lyrics of all time.

“I’m not living
I’m just killing time”

1. Burn the Witch: 84/100
2. Daydreaming: 91/100
3. Decks Dark: 90/100
4. Desert Island Disk: 74/100
5. Ful Stop: 87/100
6. Glass Eyes: 81/100
7. Identikit: 83/100
8. The Numbers: 88/10
9. Present Tense: 91/100
10. Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief: 79/100

11. True Love Waits: 82/100

    Overall: 87/100

peak song i’ve always liked it

I absolutely love the albums for Batman Forever, Songs in the key of X, Spawn, Lost Highway...

They feel like they are actual expansions of these movies (or series), and transport me to those worlds. The soundtrack for Singles is good but feels more like a compilation album, probably because the movie is set in this reality.

Do they still make soundtracks like these? What are your favourites?

in the song “Perfect System“ there is a part that really speaks to me. the lyrics say “where all brothers in a perfect world, perfect world no spontaneous negativity. Perfect system we’re all brothers till the end“ this part reminds me of my realization that I needed to change. I was a bully and now I’ve grown