Sawing at the King of Limbs

Maybe I should have taken These Are my Twisted Words more seriously.

The free tune Radiohead dropped in August 2009 works as a perfect prelude to King of Limbs, its second consecutive "surprise" album. They ditched the "pay what you want" model this time around, but pushed it out a day early.

The Oxford band again flexes its musical and financial muscles by dropping an LP with one week's notice. Aside from the speed of release, King of Limbs bears little in common with In Rainbows. Thom Yorke, Johnny greenwood and company leaning on their experimental side for a record that baffles, surprises but never comforts.

There's a relaxed groove running through the songs, grounding them as only Radiohead could. Phil Selway's drumming lies at the center of many songs, a break from the past but a welcome one. The crazy time signature he keeps on Bloom gives the sensation of standing on moving ground; only Yorke's reverb-heavy vocals and piano buried in an electric haze keep the balance.

Morning Mister Magpie pops with two dry guitars in competition, working as a companion to These Are My Twisted Words. Little by Little should soothe fans shaken by Bloom, with its electronic percussion and smoother guitars resembling pasty load-bearing songs (I Might Be Wrong comes to mind).

Feral is easily the least accessible piece here, a menacing drum-and-bass number with loops of Yorke's voice breaking through.

At just eight songs and 37 minutes, it's short but deep. I immediately gravitated toward Codex, a ballad of broken piano chords descended from Pyramid Song. Give Up the Ghost dazzles with lush moments of gentle pats, ethereal vocals and sporadic strums. King of Limbs peaks on those two songs.

After a series of album-ending downers like Street Spirit (Fade Out), Wolf at the Door and Videotape, King of Limbs concludes with Separator, which goes slightly upbeat in its melody, with arpeggiated guitar lines flaring up. At times, Yorke finds his inner Prince, giving Separator a tenderness it might otherwise lack.

Almost a week after its release, King of Limbs has not sunk in. The album feels ephemeral, a wealth of sonics pushing musical fringes that evaporate soon after Separator ends.

I wonder if King of Limbs owes a debt to modern listening habits -- music has become disposable. We spin albums for days or a week then never return. We barely have time to connect. With King of Limbs, I want to connect, but the songs have an impervious nature, blocking me out. That isn't enough to make King of Limbs a great record, but it is constantly compelling.