The Smile's Cutouts might be Thom Yorke's most fun record to date

Brilliant art breeds tedious (over)analysis—that’s been the case for Thom Yorke since the Clinton administration, back when Radiohead was bold enough to reinvent guitar rock, only to spawn a legion of lesser copycats, scrap the playbook, and then reinvent it all over again. No surprises: That trend has continued with The Smile, his freewheeling pandemic-era-and-beyond trio co-starring Jonny Greenwood (Radiohead’s resident Swiss Army knife) and Sons of Kemet drummer Tom Skinner. 

When the band announced their first gig in 2021—a pre- and pro-filmed, eight-song set as part of Glastonbury’s Live at Worthy Farm concert—the questions swarmed like agitated mosquitoes: Why not just record these songs with Radiohead? And, wait a second, is Radiohead still a thing? (An apparent answer to the latter, from bassist Colin Greenwood: “I think so!”) And even now, in the build-up to the third Smile LP, Cutouts, the same breathless scrutiny remains. 

In a vacuum, that title seems to suggest a leftovers collection, a clearing of vaults after a creatively charged studio-and-stage run. Adding to the speculation: These 10 songs—including a handful that have been drifting in and out of their sets for years—were tracked during the same sessions as January’s Wall Of Eyes. But methodology-wise, Cutouts feels less like an In Rainbows Disc 2 than an Amnesiac—the resolution of one mammoth, chopped-in-half recording project. Also crucial: It could be their most colorful and complete piece of work. 

Which isn’t to say it’s overtly cohesive—unlike, for example, Radiohead’s latest album, 2016’s A Moon Shaped Pool, which seems to glide with a kind of cinematic logic. Cutouts captures a spaghetti-at-the-wall zeal—evoking the spirit of their 2022 debut, A Light For Attracting Attention, as it darts jarringly from spectral kosmische to jazzy orchestral balladry to fidgety groove-prog. It’s chaos over continuity—and it’s often a lot of fucking fun, an adjective few would use to describe the also-brilliant Wall Of Eyes. 

The obvious illustration is “Zero Sum,” which is built on a clipped Yorke vocal, Skinner’s funky cowbell, some sassy brass accents, and another one of Greenwood’s breakneck delay-pedal riffs—a signature sound pushed here to its peak of tension via scrambled chromatic lines. “The Slip” is like a fan-fiction King Of Limbs, rowdier and more organic, tricking out a warbled synth pulse with busy jazz-funk drum breaks, spry Yorke vocal hooks, and white-hot guitar bends. The intoxicating “No Words,” with its streaking synths and relentlessly grinding guitar, is like driving down a desolate highway at 2 a.m., both excited and frightened by what your headlights might shine on next. 

Then there’s “Eyes & Mouth,” the album’s groovy and euphoric centerpiece—and a holy-grail track since debuting at Worthy Farm and eventually fading from their live set. (Its roots actually date back even further—Greenwood played the riff onstage with Radiohead in 2016, during the climactic breakdown of “Talk Show Host.”) It’s easy to miss elements of the original: The glowing Rhodes piano, some of Yorke’s huskier vocal phrasings. But overall they manage to elevate what was already a top-tier Smile song, adding nuance with hushed choral voices and a limber bass line. The wait was worth it. 

The risk of workshopping songs live is that fans get attached—it’s easy to A/B the two versions, longing for a vocal melody’s lost nuance or complaining that a drum kit is too loud. “Instant Psalm” isn’t a total “Videotape”-level rework, but the arrangement might be a grower for fans first charmed by the stage take—the crunchy, ringing electric guitars and quietly wailing saxophone have been replaced by the shimmer of Greenwood’s string arrangement and Yorke’s quietly strummed acoustic. It’s a more subtle experience—and no less memorable—but it’s hard not to miss the windswept catharsis it once delivered. Meanwhile, synth rave-up “Don’t Get Me Started” is even more of a patience-tester than the wilder live workout, missing the heft of Skinner’s toms as tempo rises. Still, they get you there by the climax, with Yorke parting the storm clouds (“And your voice means nothing”) in a silvery falsetto. 

After The Smile announced Cutouts, fans engaged in another bit of armchair conjecture—positing that this feels like the band’s last album. If it does mark some kind of ending (and only time will tell), this would be an ideal way to bow out: With an album that ties up loose ends even as it searches, with high beams flashing into the unknown.