The Smile
– A Light for Attracting Attention
This is Radiohead without the name, but don’t mistake it for a side project trying to break free. A Light for Attracting Attention feels more like Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood sidestepping the weight of legacy so they can experiment in peace. The result? Paranoia with a groove, anxiety dressed in angular riffs, and a rhythm section (thanks to Sons of Kemet’s Tom Skinner) that doesn’t just hold it together—it jolts it alive. This record slinks. It twitches. It breathes.
There’s a pulse to this thing that’s different from Radiohead’s airier abstractions. The songs move like they’ve been caged up too long and suddenly found the door unlocked. Some shuffle in quietly, others sprint for daylight. Greenwood’s guitar work here is scalpel-sharp—choppy, jittery, and occasionally violent. Yorke, meanwhile, sounds like he’s singing from a corner, watching the walls for cracks. The melodies are elusive, often murmured rather than shouted, but they settle into your bloodstream before you realize it.
And then there’s the mood. Dread? Sure. Alienation? Naturally. But there’s also this sly sense of play, like they’re building a puzzle and deliberately hiding the final piece. It’s less a cry for help and more a knowing smirk in a dark room. The Smile isn’t reinventing Radiohead—but they are shaking off the myth and making something leaner, stranger, and oddly human. The future sounds anxious, but at least it’s dancing while it burns.
Choice Tracks
You Will Never Work in Television Again
This one kicks the door off the hinges. It snarls. It races. It feels like a punk song filtered through a fever dream. Yorke spits his vocals like he’s chewing on broken glass, and the band locks into a driving, jagged groove that doesn’t let up.
The Smoke
Smooth, sinister, and slinky. The bassline does most of the talking here, and Skinner’s drumming gives it a hypnotic swing. Yorke croons like he’s both seducing and indicting you. It’s unsettling, but you’ll keep hitting repeat.
Free in the Knowledge
A slow-burn ballad, but it cuts deep. Just Yorke and some aching strings, reflecting on isolation with the gentleness of someone who’s seen it all. No tricks. Just sadness, served straight.
Thin Thing
A twitchy, beautiful mess. Guitars skip around like they’ve got wires crossed, and Yorke glides over it with that ghostly falsetto. It’s a technical marvel that never loses its pulse.
Pana-vision
Elegant and eerie. The piano floats, the horns creep in, and everything feels like it’s slowly slipping through your fingers. It’s cinematic without being showy—like the end credits of a dream you didn’t want to wake from.
A Light for Attracting Attention isn’t a reset—it’s a release. Tense, strange, and oddly addictive. Yorke and Greenwood found a new disguise, but they’re still whispering the same haunting truths. And we’re still listening, a little more nervously than before.