How do you start a review for a solo album by Thom Yorke without first engaging in some Pitchfork-like verbal fellatio? You could discuss how Radiohead are probably one of the most important bands of the past twenty or so years, how Yorke has decided not to use guitars or any of the other musical instruments that his more well-known projects are famous for, or even just crack a few jokes at Brett DiCrescenzo's expense. There are more things to write about than there are weird electronic noises on "The Eraser", so much so that I'm spoiled for choice.

But let's go the obvious route, and examine the popular speculation that as this doesn't have any guitar work, it's going to be similar to Radiohead's alienating "Kid A" album. It's a tempting comparison to make, given the construction of both albums, both of them start off with an abstract, conceptual track that is more about telling the listener what the new rules of the game are, than actually providing a memorable piece of music, and both eschew song structure in favour of seemingly flow-of-consciousness rambling. However, when you look closely at both albums, it becomes evident that they're very different beasts.

For starters, while "Kid A" often played lip service to conventional rock formats, "The Eraser" goes out of its way to avoid or subvert the format. There are no How To Disappear Completely or Optimistic here, and there's no riffs as massive as the one that drove The National Anthem. The only song that's even remotely like "The Eraser" would be Idioteque, its abrasive beats and seemingly dissociated tones sound like a crude prototype of what's on offer here.

So if it's not "Kid A", then what is it? As mentioned above, most of these songs are rather formless and unshaped, which occasionally results in a mess like Analyse, with too many ideas wrapped around each other and clashing. However, when Yorke actually hits the target, the results are spectacular. Atoms For Peace, for instance, is built around a gently stuttering beat with warm, lovely pulses of sound providing a pretty melody for a surprisingly heartfelt vocal performance. And It Rained All Night shows that just because you abandon structure, you don't have to abandon melody, and Black Swan features what might sound like a guitar layered deep underneath a harsh, unyielding percussion loop.

Ultimately, how much you enjoy this album depends on your tolerance level for overly self-conscious experimentalism. Yorke isn't as good at making electronica as Radiohead are at doing rock, and there's the feeling throughout the whole album that Yorke sees this simply as a way of sorting the true believers from the casual fans. In places, the music seems a little forced, as if he's simply trying to come up with something strange, rather than something good. Still, Yorke hasn't gotten as far as he has without having some serious talent, and this release has merit beyond its novelty value.