Radiohead: Burn The Witch

It’s not just any band that can drop a single and immediately earn a shout out from Time Magazine. Radiohead is one of the largest cultural phenomena in modern music. They’re as much generational icons as they are musicians, and much in the same way that music used to be able to shape the world (think civil rights and war protests during the 1960s / early 1970s), this is our very own paranoid bunch of 2000s cynics. That’s why when they release new material to the masses, it’s like a world leader making an important speech. Everyone just sort of listens.

It’s clear that Radiohead has a lot to say on “Burn The Witch.” Frontman Thom Yorke has never been one to state things plainly, as conspiracy theories and prophetic visions have become staples of the band’s lyrical content (If you haven’t researched the parallels between Kid A and the terrorist attacks of 9/11, then I highly recommend a quick google search for a very intriguing – if far fetched – read.) Yorke’s unyielding disillusionment with political/economic greed, consumerist societies, and the exploitation of technology have shown through in spades over the years, and there’s been nary an album to forego some type of political or cultural subtext worth investigating. In the midst of a particularly significant year for American politics, we find that some of the lines are a little more heated than what we’ve become accustomed to: “abandon all reason, avoid all eye contact / do not react, shoot the messengers.” It paints a picture of blind obedience; of hatred and violence. With a music video that bears a striking resemblance to the celebrated 1960s children’s series entitled Trumpton, it’s possible that Radiohead wants listeners to heed yet another ominous warning – although this one seems like far less of an exaggeration.

Musically, “Burn The Witch” is a bit of an odd track for a number of reasons. First, it shows a clear shift away from the electronic-bound approach illustrated on the band’s most recent offerings, especially 2011’s The King of Limbs. This track feels a lot more rock-oriented at its core, but is just as spaciously inclined. The strings that drive the song forward act as a form of percussion, constantly stutter-stepping while anxiously swelling and fading…again and again. It endows the track with an incredible sense of urgency; a craft that Radiohead has been perfecting since their heyday circa OK Computer and Kid A. “Burn The Witch” feels like a cut right from the center of Radiohead’s prime – it’s eerie, compelling, and beautiful. It’s not premature to lump the song in with that era’s best either, because after all it’s a song that Radiohead has been teasing since 2003. When you take into account the time during which this song was conceived – and how relevant that same sense of paranoia is now – it’s either a remarkable testament to stagnant progression or the cyclical nature of history. Pick your poison.

As open-ended as any Radiohead offering, “Burn The Witch” ultimately leaves all interpretations up to its fans. There’s nothing singular that can be taken away from it, besides perhaps its sinister nature and its affinity for urgent-sounding strings. There’s simply an air about it, this whispering voice in your ear telling you that things around the world are changing for the worse and that you need to be concerned. To put it in Yorke’s words, it’s a low flying panic attack. It doesn’t point its finger directly at anyone or anything, instead just gazing towards the sky with a terribly uneasy feeling – not unlike the silhouetted figures that grace the single’s cover art. As this track progresses, the anxiety grows more and more prevalent. By right around the 3:00 mark, it feels like an all out assault on your nervous system. To those paying attention, it could be perceived as a rallying cry. Identify the root of evil and corruption that’s holding us back. Remove the cancer. Burn the witch.

Song Score: 4.5 / 5 (Superb)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yI2oS2hoL0k