Although The Bends was for many listeners the first introduction to Radiohead as a genuinely great, game changing band, my own experience was of it being the penultimate disc I listened to. After the aforementioned television concert in 2003 where I was first exposed to Radiohead, I started off by purchasing two of their albums: Hail to the Thief, which had just been released, and the album that I was told by the music store clerk was their best release. As a result, the first Radiohead album I listened to was OK Computer. It completely blew me away.
I had listened to established progressive rock classics from Pink Floyd and of course Queen, both of whom can be checked as huge influences on this record, but there was nothing I had heard before that was as “out there” as “Fitter Happier” or “Climbing up the Wall”. It was both this and the next Radiohead record that would completely shape my tastes for the more esoteric side of music, but compared to that forthcoming classic this is still a completely accessible piece of classic rock. With rare exceptions they follow traditional rock structures (ABABC[A]B), and are predominately led by guitar throughout. Over time I have come to experience much of this album’s influences, ranging from Joy Division to DJ Shadow to Krzysztof Penderecki, but even after all time that this album still remains as strong as it was for me 12 years ago. When I think of the biggest bands of the world that would come after this, namely Muse and Coldplay, this is the album that is their creative impetus.
Much of that creativity came down to a sense of ambition, a need to move away from the template that their first two album’s had predominately featured. But following on from the creation of the charity single “Lucky”, which would go on to feature on this album, a big part of that new focus was producer Nigel Godrich. As would be the case going forward, he had the uncanny ability to give the band free range to explore and of their musical fascinations, whilst keeping enough control to stop them when things became completely unacceptable (the most prominent instance of this is said to be In Rainbows, when Radiohead felt that they had lost their way. But more on that soon).
With that drive and clout, OK Computer is a rock cacophony, compromised of elements ranging from cellos to glockenspiels to mellotrons to even the voice of an Apple Mac. The messy headspace thus created was perfect for Thom Yorke’s lyrics, with inspirations ranging from Isaac Asimov to Noam Chomsky, the themes of alienation (sometimes the literal alien) and modernity all arriving with a seeming pessimistic edge. The attitude was befitting the culture that birthed it, coming from 18 years of a Conservative government and into a more uncertain time with Tony Blair and the rise of New Labour (which I believe now translates to “Old Conservative”). Many critics of the time read the lyrics of OK Computer to be the battlecry going into a new government. First listening to this album so quick after the band’s most overtly political album (Hail to the Thief), and away from the immediate context, I see it now as an evolution of the isolations themes of The Bends, with political snippets thrown in so as to give Yorke’s paranoia an extra layer. It is not a concept album, but like influences U2 and REM all the songs are brought together by unifying themes, and sequentially provide an emotional order that is still recognisable but with nothing concrete about it. In many ways the album’s narrative is like that of its iconic, shoe gaze inspired cover: items that are completely recognisable as man made, but you have to squint to see the highway.
OK Computer begins as it ends with the complex and ethereal “Airbag”. Part dub influenced beat (courtesy of Colin’s bass), part DJ Shadow influenced outro (the only place where that intention really presents itself) and all grandiose rock classic, synth strings swell against an increasingly tense, single string riff building up and letting go like the energy of the car crash described in this song. Of all the tracks in which Thom Yorke explores this biographical instance of his life, this is the greatest, giving illusions to the alien imagery to come with the chorus “In an interstellar burst/I am back to save the universe”. In one image the band combines the heavenly and the cosmic, angels and aliens, arriving in this world like we arrive in the one of the album.
Which brings us into perhaps the most famous song of the entire album, and the one that defines the word epic, with “Paranoid Android”. From clean, space rock riffs to 7/8 funky breakdowns, the comparisons to it as the “Bohemian Rhapsody” of the 90’s still feel justified today, including the fact both character’s sensory overload leads to murderous results. Despite taking its name from a Douglas Adams character, the jokes in question here are bitter diatribes, ones that deal with a rise to power and are aimed at the concept of worthless revolution (much like that other iconic nineties anthem, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, though were that was focused on youth this is focused on the entire populous). From “kicking and screaming gucci little piggy” and The crackle of pigskin/The dust and the screaming/The yuppies networking”, Yorke produces one surreal, bizarre yet still very brutal and grounded image after the other – much like those from the iconic music video – and takes us on a trip as emotionally schizophrenic as the music itself.
As a break from that intensity, the band move on to the calming and soothing “Subterranean Homesick Alien”, with a guitar sound as though you yourself were caught in the tractor beam of a passing ship. That ambiguity of sound is perfect for the lyrics to this song, for as the verses progress the paranoia begins to creep back in to the record, and the protagonist is convinced that he has been privy to alien abduction. It’s as spacey as the greatest Pink Floyd tracks, with duelling keyboards/mellotrons, a rumbling percussion from Philip and a bass-line that ascends and descends like possible future visitors. Quick, make sure we keep fighting about mundane shit so they’ll come visit!
Speaking of tragedies arising from petty conflict, the next song, “Exit Music (For A Film)” is one of two songs Radiohead wrote inspired by <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, more specifically the Baz Luhrmann film adaptation with additional title additions. Starting off almost as a kind of anti-lullaby, with mainly an acoustic guitar and the lyrics “wake from your sleep”. This following with backing electronics that have intentional clipping, as though it is trying to break us from this sleeping/death world, and with the muddied sounds of urban environments it is almost achieved. That is until the drums finally enter the picture, along with a fuzz bass pulsating over cymbals as the reality of the situation, of the tragic, becomes all the more grounded and all the more real.
After such a dark conclusion comes one of the brightest songs on OK Computer, “Let Down”, which is also possibly my favourite song on the entire record. Starting of with a 5/4 time signature amidst delicate guitars, it keeps us in suspended animation before Phil’s drums kick in, the song turn backs to a normal beat, marching along like the traffic and transport depicted in its first verse. The elation that comes at the bridge to the song, where the sequenced synthesisers come in like glittering lights against the twilight backdrop of this song, is among the most transcendent moments in the whole Radiohead canon. And as well as Thom Yorke’s beautiful voice, it contains a lyric that seems not just a mantra for the emotion state the band plays on, but a line I have always taken to heart: “Don’t get sentimental/ It always ends up drivel”
But if “Let Down” is my favourite song from OK Computer, then it was “Karma Police” that made me a Radiohead fan. What is odd about this being one of the biggest singles from the album – with an iconic music video by Jonathan Glazer – is that it is one of the only songs on the album not to really have a chorus. The chant of “this is what you’ll get” fill that illusion, with a interpolation of a classic riff from the Beatle’s “Sexy Sadie”, makes you think it is an aggressive build off to a large moment of anger. But instead, that pays off with a moment of realisation, the echoing “for a minute there, I lost myself” coming out strange dadaist lyrics on “hitler hairdos” and “buzzing like a fridge” showing that clarity.
But is that clarity of modern life an illusion? That certainly seems the case for “Fitter, Happier”, but far the most novel and conceptual on OK Computer. With a generated voice cut up straight from an Apple device, and much like U2’s “Numb”, the song presents a monotone list of cynical marketing newspeaking and how it numbs the central character until they feel like “a pig in a cage on antibiotics” (the first of many reference to George Orwell’s Animal Farm in the Radiohead discography). In terms of it as a singular piece, “Fitter Happier” only works in the album context, a means to transition from “Karma Police” to “Electioneer”, but also because of that it is representative of the entirety of OK Computer.
Meanwhile, “Electioneering” is the track that displays the most obvious connection between this album and The Bends (even “Lucky, which was the first track made with Nigel Godrich). Armed with three overpowering guitars and a hell of a lot of cowbell, Thom Ed and Jonny engage in there puncher sides with lots of clashing riffs and lots of screeching. And just with plenty of punk music, this is clearly the most political song on the album, with lines like “I’ll go forwards, you’ll go backwards, and somewhere we will meet” perfectly surmising the political compromising made in the begging for votes (see my previous comments about New Labour). Probably my least favourite song on the album (because I wouldn’t really call “Fitter Happier” a song, as it were), but that is mainly an illustration of how brilliant this album is.
I used to say that my least favourite song was actually “Climbing up the Walls”, but over time it moved up in my estimations and is now, next to “Let Down”, one my favourite songs from the album. Namely because its the precursor to all the sonic experimentation on Kid A, taking from avant-garde composers and placing the atonal shrieks of their compositions into a rock song template. With oppressive percussion, namely a loud snare, and a creepy fuzz bass, Thom Yorke genuinely sounds terrifying over layers and reverb, talking about what is most likely a psychological condition, more likely depression (“and either where you turn/ I’ll be there/ open up your skull/ I’ll be there”). When the song builds to its conclusion, and Thom Yorke wails in what sounds like physical pain, I still get chills.
This chill helps to make the transition into “No Surprises” even more delightful and delicate. Although it is the move to the more calming and optimistic motifs of the finals songs of the record, this also has some of the bleakest lyrics on the album, with an opening line that perfectly articulates the weight of the world against the character (“a heart that fills up like a landfill/ a job that slowly kills you/ bruises that won’t heal”) and more references to the political landscapes of the time (“they don’t speak for us”). The beautiful guitar playing from Ed’s arpeggios and Thom acoustics, to Jonny creating as much emotion as possible from a glockenspiel, if “Paranoid Android” was this generation’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, this is our “Sunday Morning”.
“Lucky” acts as the perfect penultimate track to this album’s themes, with it linking to “Airbag” its imagery of vehicular crashes. Unlike that track, though, it is in a kind of limbo between the saviour and the victim the protagonist that has to be saved from a crash, and also that “I’ll be your superhero”. It was another ballad written around The Bends era, inspired by events in Bosnia and included in a compilation album, but with Nigel Godrich’s production it is best suited to the sonics of OK Computer, with arena rock layered guitar casting out in the chorus like any sort of resulting debris.
This climax of acceleration comes to its logical conclusion with “The Tourist”, a slow, spacious, ringing ballad that encourages the listener, protagonists and all to “slow down”. With that the central character seems to move beyond this realm, moving from being “overcharged” to going “a thousand feet per second”. Whether this is some alien returning home, or some heavenly presence vacating this realm, the transcendence met in this image, accompanied with choir-like synthesisers and Jonny’s instrument screaming its farewell, is what makes this one of the greatest closers of all time. Well, that and that triangle. How counterintuitively brilliant is it to end your layered and complex album with the simple hit of triangle.
Imitated constantly, no band yet has managed to meet the majesty of OK Computer. With that the band took the optima of all trends in nineties rock, and distilled it into something that was utterly them. With that came declarations from some publications that they were “saving mainstream rock and roll”, and that they were one of the last bastions I’m guitar led music. Then things happened. From the documentary Meeting People is Easy making being maybe the biggest band of your generation seem intolerable, to Thom Yorke being so frustrated and worn down that he refused to pick up a guitar, it would be around three years before we got another album from the rock and roll band. And, to many, it was seen as a betrayal. But, oh, what a betrayal…
What did you think, though?
Radiohead Album Rankings
- OK Computer
- The Bends
- Pablo Honey