Kid A is my third-best Radiohead album— behind the OK Computer and In Rainbows. But (and this is a big but!) I still think Kid A might be Radiohead’s most important album. It’s the moment they decided, “Yeah, we’re not going to be that same band anymore,” and proceeded to open up an entirely new world of sound. Released on October 2, 2000, Kid A was like a big, blinking sign that said: This is the future of Radiohead, folks. Buckle up.
So let’s talk about why it matters, then we’ll break it down track by track—like the mini sci-fi movie it is.
Why Kid A Is So Important
It’s the pivot point: After the enormous success of OK Computer, the band could’ve just served us more alt-rock masterpieces. Instead, they went electronic, ambient, downright alien at times. It was a risk, but it paid off and paved the way for pretty much everything Radiohead did afterward—especially albums like Amnesiac and Hail to the Thief, and even the more organic futurism of In Rainbows.
It’s an experience: I always come back to how Kid A feels less like a collection of songs and more like watching a film. There’s a narrative arc, even if it’s super abstract. Turn it on and you’re transported—sometimes to a place of eerie calm, sometimes to an anxious digital meltdown.
It’s Radiohead setting themselves free: Thom Yorke’s voice is distorted or hidden behind effects, guitars sometimes vanish in favor of synths and sampling, and the usual verse-chorus-verse structure is thrown out the window. They’re rewriting their own rules on this album.
And now, my scene-by-scene breakdown of this cinematic experience:
Track-by-Track: Riding Through the Kid A “Movie”
1. Everything in Its Right Place
From the moment you hear those synth keys and that driving foot drum, you know you’re being pulled into something controlled but also slightly off-kilter—like a carefully programmed ride. Then that second melody line (the “dun nun nun nun na” bit) hits, and it sounds delightfully computer-y. It feels like a gentle “breathe in; okay, let’s go” moment. Perfect for tasks—whether you’re doing schoolwork, walking outside, or in a creative flow. It sets the stage: the future is here, and it’s weirdly comforting. “What, what was that you tried to say?”
2. Kid A
Now we drop into this creepy space lullaby territory. The beat feels like synth bongos or maybe someone tapping on a microphone, and Thom’s heavily processed, strained computer voice is haunting. The drums become a driving undercurrent, and behind it all are these calm, almost epic washes of sound. It’s like we’re drifting in zero gravity. If “Everything in Its Right Place” was the launch sequence, “Kid A” is the slow, unnerving moment of floating among the stars.
3. The National Anthem
It starts off like a TV channel losing signal—like something’s shutting off or flipping to static. By now, I’ve fully bought into the idea that we’re in the middle of a sound-based movie. The epic bass intro practically rumbles your insides, and then these swirling horns and possible violins take over, reminiscent of The Beatles’ wildest moments—think “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!” or even the chaotic collage of “Revolution 9,” culminating in a triumphant “Her Majesty”–esque horns flourish. It’s all big and brassy and absolutely manic in the best way.
4. How to Disappear Completely
A return to something more recognizably Radiohead, but still drenched in atmosphere. There’s piercing low droning in the background—like in a horror movie when you just know something bad is about to happen. Thom’s vocal line (“I’m not here / This isn’t happening”) floats along like a whale cry, deeply resonant. It’s like we’re sinking further into the film’s tension, but it’s heartbreakingly gorgeous at the same time.
5. Treefingers
This is the ethereal droning interlude. On its own, it can feel skippable (and trust me, I’ve definitely done that when I’m not in the mood). But in the grand context of Kid A’s “movie,” it serves as a transitional scene—like a moment of floating in deep space with no dialogue. It’s all about respecting the album’s flow here.
6. Optimistic
Then, bam. After the spaced-out quiet, “Optimistic” slams in like a breath of fresh oxygen to the lungs. The guitar rides on top of these pushing drums, and suddenly we’re thrown back into a more rock-centric sound. It’s a jolt of energy, a shot in the arm—and it’s the perfect shift after the drifting ambiance of “Treefingers.”
7. In Limbo
To me, this is one of those “transitional” songs that continues the “movie” analogy—bouncing low drums, a sense of being caught between dream and reality (you really do feel like you’re in limbo). The lyrics paint a picture of living in a fantasy, which is exactly how you feel listening to this album sometimes: are we dreaming or is this real life?
8. Idioteque
One of my absolute favorite Radiohead tracks ever. I was lucky enough to see it live, and it’s like that moment is permanently written into my bones. The driving electronic drums, the techy bleeps and bloops—every glitch is memorized. Thom screaming “ICE AGE COMING, ICE AGE COMING!” is the anxious heartbeat of the whole record. It’s like the band is showing us all the power we have (information, technology, endless possibilities) and asking, Why do we still feel so on edge? That tension is what makes this track truly electric.
9. Morning Bell
I love the drum pattern here—it’s almost stumbling, but it’s so perfectly executed that you can’t help but be captivated. As a mediocre drummer myself, I’ve tried messing around with weird time signatures or patterns like this; Radiohead nails that tricky balance between complexity and groove. It feels simultaneously off and locked in.
10. Motion Picture Soundtrack
A slow, dreamy build that ends in this epic, lifting trifecta of sound. The organ keys set the mood, and I’m fairly sure there’s a harp twinkling away back there, adding to that cinematic quality. It plays like a sweet-but-haunted love song with lines like “I think you’re crazy, maybe,” which has just enough off-kilter weirdness to keep you uneasy. But mostly, it’s heartbreakingly pretty.
11. Untitled (Hidden Track)
Finally, we have this short, ghostly piece—like sound you hear at the pearly gates if they were streaming through an old transistor radio. It’s an epic-sounding fade-out to this big, dreamy film we just experienced. The credits roll, and we’re left with that contemplative, floating feeling.
Final Thoughts
So yes, OK Computer might be their best in terms of alternative-rock genius, and In Rainbows hits you right in the soul with its intimate warmth and complexity. But Kid A—Kid A is the reason we got so many shades of Radiohead in the decades that followed. It’s the bold reboot, the big creative leap, the cosmic shift in direction. It’s a literal game changer in their catalog (and arguably in modern music), even if it sits at number three in my personal ranking.
If you haven’t listened in a while—or if you’ve never listened—throw on some decent headphones, close your eyes, and let Kid A happen to you like a good sci-fi flick. Trust me: It’s a ride worth taking.
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more musical musings. As always, feel free to let me know your own thoughts on Kid A or your own personal Radiohead ranking—there’s no wrong answer (except maybe saying “Fitter Happier” is their best track. I kid…sort of). Until next time!
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