Radiohead fans are a fickle bunch. When The King of Limbs dropped in early 2011, the collective internet shrug was deafening. People wanted In Rainbows part two, but instead, they got a twitchy, loop-heavy, 37-minute experiment that felt more like a tech demo than a rock record. It was dense. It was short. Honestly, some people hated it. But everything changed when they stepped into a studio with Nigel Godrich for the "From the Basement" session. That was the moment The King of Limbs live became the definitive version of that music.
Watching Thom Yorke dance like a possessed marionette is one thing. Hearing how those impossible, polyrhythmic drum patterns actually function in a physical space is another entirely. The studio record felt claustrophobic, almost intentionally buried under layers of digital sediment. Live? It breathed. It snarled. It had teeth.
The Second Drummer Theory
The biggest hurdle for the album was the percussion. On the studio tracks, it’s mostly programmed or heavily sampled loops that Phil Selway recorded and Thom and Jonny Greenwood chopped up. It sounds "thin" to the untrained ear. To fix this for the tour, the band did something they’d never done before: they hired a second drummer.
Clive Deamer, known for his incredible work with Portishead, was the missing piece of the puzzle. Adding Deamer wasn't just about making things louder. It was about humanizing the machine. If you watch the performance of "Bloom" from the Basement sessions, you see Phil and Clive locked into these interlocking 12/8 and 4/4 rhythms that feel less like a rock beat and more like a heartbeat. It turned a cold electronic track into a lush, orchestral explosion of sound.
Most bands would just use a backing track. Radiohead decided to double their rhythm section instead. That tells you everything you need to know about their commitment to the "live" aspect of this era. It wasn't about replication; it was about reimagination.
Bloom: The Masterpiece of Transition
"Bloom" is the litmus test. On the record, it’s a murky pool. Live, it’s a tidal wave. The brass section—featuring members of the London Contemporary Orchestra—adds this layer of organic dread that the synthesized versions just couldn't touch. Jonny Greenwood is usually hunched over a Max/MSP patch or a Korg Kaoss Pad, while Thom is wrestling with a Fender Jazzmaster.
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It’s messy. It’s beautiful. It’s also incredibly difficult to play.
There are stories from the crew about how much rehearsing went into these sets. We're talking weeks of just getting the syncopation right. Because if one drummer drifts by a millisecond, the whole song collapses. But when they hit it? It’s transcendent.
Why "From the Basement" Is the Real Album
Let’s be real for a second. If you ask a hardcore fan which version of The King of Limbs they listen to, nine times out of ten, they’re going to say the Basement session. It’s the superior product. Recorded in a high-end studio environment but performed entirely live, it bridged the gap between the sterile loops of the LP and the chaotic energy of their Coachella or Glastonbury sets.
The tracklist was also better. They added "The Daily Mail" and "Staircase," two songs that were left off the original eight-track album. Including these changed the entire narrative. Suddenly, the "short" album felt like a sprawling, ambitious epic. "The Daily Mail" in particular showed that the band hadn't lost their ability to write a searing, piano-driven political anthem.
The visuals helped too. No flashy lights. Just a room full of hanging Edison bulbs and cameras circling the band like vultures. You can see the sweat. You can see Jonny's concentration as he manipulates a radio or a lemon shaker. It felt intimate in a way their massive stadium tours rarely do.
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The Evolution of "Feral" and "Morning Mr Magpie"
Some songs just didn't make sense until they were played in front of an audience. Take "Feral." On the CD, it’s a skittering, almost unlistenable bit of IDM. It’s the kind of track that makes casual fans skip to the next song.
But The King of Limbs live transformed "Feral" into a high-octane dance track. Seeing Ed O'Brien use his guitar more like a synthesizer—looping textures and feeding them through a wall of pedals—showed the sheer technical wizardry involved. It moved from being an "interlude" to being the highlight of the set.
"Morning Mr Magpie" also gained a groove that was totally absent from the studio version. The live arrangement emphasized the West African highlife influence that Thom had been obsessing over at the time. It became funky. Radiohead isn't a band people usually associate with "groove," but this era proved they could hold a pocket as well as any funk band.
The Gear That Made It Possible
You can't talk about this live era without mentioning the tech.
- The Vox AC30s: Ed and Jonny still leaned on these, but they were pushed to their breaking points.
- The Elektron Machinedrum: Used heavily for the "glitch" sounds that Phil had to play along with.
- The Ondes Martenot: Jonny’s signature instrument, providing those ghostly, haunting wails on "Staircase."
It was a nightmare for the roadies. Keeping all those loops synced while ensuring the analog instruments didn't sound like mud is a feat of engineering. Nigel Godrich acted as a sort of silent sixth member, mixing the sound in a way that preserved the clarity of the dual-drum setup.
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The Fan Backlash and the Redemption
It’s easy to forget now, but the 2012 tour was divisive. People were paying $90 to hear a band play songs they didn't quite understand yet. There was a weird tension in the air at some of those early shows. Fans wanted "Creep" or "Karma Police," and they were getting "Separator."
But then something happened. As the tour progressed, the songs evolved. By the time they hit the festival circuit, the King of Limbs material was the loudest part of the night. It forced the audience to listen differently. You couldn't just sing along; you had to move.
The record was a grower, but the live show was an instant hook. It proved that Radiohead wasn't interested in being a legacy act. They weren't going to just play the hits and collect a check. They were going to make you work for it.
The Significance of "Separator"
The closing track of the album, "Separator," became the emotional anchor of the live set. It’s a song about waking up from a dream. The interplay between the two drummers here is subtle—less of a hammer and more of a brush.
"If you think this is over, then you're wrong," Thom sings. It felt like a promise. This era wasn't a dead end; it was a bridge to their next evolution, A Moon Shaped Pool. It taught them how to integrate live orchestration with digital precision without losing the soul of the song.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
If you're still skeptical about this era of Radiohead, or if you're a new fan trying to navigate their massive discography, here is how you should actually consume this material to "get" it.
- Skip the LP at first: Start with the From the Basement video on YouTube or the digital audio version. It’s the "true" version of the album.
- Focus on the drums: Don't try to find a traditional melody in tracks like "Bloom." Listen to the space between the two drum kits. That’s where the magic happens.
- Watch the hands: If you can find high-definition live footage, watch Jonny Greenwood. Seeing how he creates those sounds manually removes the "it's just a computer" stigma.
- Listen to the B-Sides: "The Butcher" and "Supercollider" were released around this time and provide essential context for the sonic landscape the band was building.
The King of Limbs live era remains one of the most misunderstood periods in modern rock history. It wasn't a mistake; it was a masterclass in how a band can dismantle their own sound and rebuild it into something tougher, weirder, and ultimately more rewarding. It's the sound of a band refusing to get comfortable. And honestly? That's the most Radiohead thing they could have done.