Roger Waters – Radio K.A.O.S. Review

Concept lays the foundation for Roger Waters’ solo career. His interest in ideas rather than the made-up finality of them, of a conclusion. It works well and in his first album release following his departure from Pink Floyd, Waters can tinker with the art rock style which made The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking so satisfying. Those political run-throughs which exposed the darker and more entertaining side of Pink Floyd in the 1970s are all part of the charm for Waters’ solo efforts, and Radio K.A.O.S., at times, brings on a one-man revolution. Radio K.A.O.S. reaches for a kick against the monetary woes of the country under Margaret Thatcher, an anti-government stance simply makes sense when making music which reacts to the world around us. There is a “see what sticks” thought process to the storytelling here and, for the most part, it does stick.  

From Ronald Reagan to the little flutters of misery which are pulled from life in Los Angeles, Waters finds influence in the oddest of spots. Whatever the reasoning, it makes for a truly unique experience, and though Radio K.A.O.S. may sound aggressively ridiculous, it is performed with such conviction. His narrative style is fine enough but what stops Waters here is the inevitable slip every artist of his legendary status made; the electronic overhaul. It reduces what little thrill there is on Radio K.A.O.S., a repetitive drum machine and electronic indifference becomes its undoing. Absurdist writing from the world of Billy, a disabled Welshman, becomes the main draw of this Waters project. It feels like The Wall but with a bit more hokey, wry writing to it, a bit like Tommy, the Ken Russell movie which was released a decade before this Waters effort. Despite the range shown off by Waters and the backing vocals to make the most of saxophone additions, Radio K.A.O.S. feels very flat in its miserably tight rock opera-like form.  

What Radio K.A.O.S. can depend on is the sampling used of “do you really think,” from the Reagan campaign. It pairs nicely with the softer flourishes and everyday sounds of Me or Him. At least Sunset Strip finds some cool grooves and radio static to toy with, the trip through the radio wave-filled mind of Billy is not as exciting as it should or could be. Part of that is the synthpop of the time, the AOR-influenced instrumental punch sounds horrendously dated and placated by the storytelling at the heart of Radio K.A.O.S., which takes a turn for the better towards the end. Home into Four Minutes is a tremendous transition, the former sounding like some dense Fear of Music riff and the latter being the sort of radio chatter which would look to lend itself to some prophetic vision of the future.  

Messy, yes. But it is the ambition shown by Waters after he spiralled out from a group which was becoming a Waters-led project rather than a communal effort that maintains Radio K.A.O.S. as, at the very least, an interesting album. Sampling hideous creatures like Thatcher adds the in-touch edge Waters is searching for, but the experimental highs on a journey with Billy do not amount to much. All it can do is reach out for what was, at the time, a popular style of music. It does not get much better than that and for all the aspirations of art rock potential on Radio K.A.O.S., very little of it sticks. But Waters would push on still, with bold visions and ideas to come.