It’s 2003. I was on the edge of double digits. Although I was already playing a musical instrument – a keyboard that since blew up – I couldn’t honestly say that music was a huge part of my life. I couldn’t even say I was particularly verse in the subject, even for someone my age. There were bands at the time that I knew I liked, mainly the classics in my parents collection such as Beatles, Queen and Kate Bush, but aside from that I didn’t know anything about the music scene around me. Only that peers were talking about something called Papa Roach. Man, does anyone miss that musical era? Because I don’t.

During one day in the summer, my parents had left the television on. It was tuned in to BBC2, which was showing highlights from the Glastonbury festival as well as full sets from the headline acts. I passively watched as my parents were out the room, and the act on stage had five people on it. The main thing I knew about a band was that they had four members, so this already had me intrigued. They started with three people playing thunderous drums, and I was instantly hooked. Then they moved to a song that said that 2+2=5, and the mind that had not yet read Orwell was still captivated. I didn’t know any of the songs that would play over the next eighty minutes, but over that time I had gone through the equivalent of musical conversion therapy. Before they would leave the stage for an encore, they would play a song I now know to be “Karma Police”. I may not have known the song, otherwise I would have noticed he deliberately got the words wrong, but that audience certainly did, as in that final outro the audience broke out with a voice that even overpowered the then nameless singer. To this day it might be my favourite musical moment ever.

As of that point I wanted to know as much this group as possible. Sooner than expected, I owned every song the band had made. They were known as Radiohead, and they were my first musical love. Thom Yorke. Jonny Greenwood. Ed O’Brien. Colin Green. Philip Selway. Each showed musical and emotion complexities that until then I did not know were possible, and helped me to discover them in the music I already listened to. They opened my mind to the vast world of music around me, and widened my taste in a way that effects the way I consume art even today (and also made me an absolute delight in secondary school).

As time went on I would be less fervent in my beliefs. I would cast Radiohead a little to the side as I listened to more varied, and at one point much louder, music. But they would still end up as an anchor for my musical tastes, a place that I came back to when nothing else interested me. Even now, in a move stereotypical of age, race, gender, class, location and body type, I would call Radiohead my favourite band.

I begin with this long introduction, because I thought it would be stronger than starting with the band’s. After a dormant period in university, the band first called On a Friday would reconvene, change their name to that of a Talking Head’s song, and bring together collections written before they were signed by a studio. The first release would be a Drill EP, which contained three of the (ultimately strongest) songs that would make it on their debut album in reworked versions. Taking the strongest pool of songs that had not been released as On a Friday demos, the band would record and compile the songs on Pablo Honey in a quick, immediate manner that reflected some of the best releases coming from alternate rock at the time. Suffice to say, this method was not Radiohead’s ideal playing ground

Only the most hardened of contrarians would call Pablo Honey anything less than Radiohead’s worst album. Even in its stronger moments, its the sound of a band that has not found yet found a signature style, instead pulling so much from the scene around it that its hard to mind much individuality. Nigel Godrich is not yet entered a studio presence, and the cover is by far the worst artwork in the whole Radiohead catalogue (before those duties were assigned to the great Stanley Donwood). Even the font is different, all in lowercase, which in actually a really good metaphor.

I am harsh to this record because I know the band can do so much better. I was in fact dreading having to listen to this album for review, and as I progressed I could see myself skipping way more songs than I was listening to in full. But was that just a knee-jerk reaction? Does that mean there is nothing to recommend about Pablo Honey? Obviously there is “Creep”, which to this day is the band’s most well known song, but we will get to that soon. But aside from that, I would say there is some merit. For one thing, it’s interesting how much of a different, more lighthearted, more playful tone Pablo Honey has compared to most of the band’s catalogue. Despite popular consensus, Radiohead is not entirely humourless or depressing, with so much of their music been incredibly uplifting. But despite that, the youthful, almost Weezer-ish manner to the song style, the title taken from the comedy of the Jerky Boys. Although the glibness does produce song titles like the b-side “Pop is Dead” (which, c’mon man, really?), and clashes with some of the “tortured-soul” tracks that demonstrate the lack of vision, it also produces the more carefree moments that make the second quarter particularly strong.

And with that, the first half of the album is where it is at its strongest when it comes to song craft. Even here we can see the multiple guitar dynamics, Jonny Greenwood’s sonic experimentation and Thom’s powerful falsetto, that would only get stronger. Also, with the band more fallible, the styles and influences that would form their sound would only grow more obvious. The first place to go to is the grunge contemporaries of the time; at one point they were called the “British Nirvana”, which was never going to do their career much good. But I think it would be more correct to say that they were pulling from those band’s influences. Some liberal Pixies’ dynamic changes for one. Some guitar tone’s from R.E.M. for the other. On top of that, their are the most obvious Neil Young homages that the band would ever do (with Thom Yorke being a fan). Add to that some influences Smith’s jangle pop to the arena rock of U2, and you have the pieces that Radiohead would later go on to unify. It’s a shame that one of its big draws is one of its major artistic failures, but it’s also interesting to hear Radiohead produce what is essentially Early Nineties: the Soundtrack.

The first song, “You”, begins with bright guitar arpeggios that bring to mind the jangling guitars of the most popular college rock, before moving into galloping grunge riffs and dynamic changes into smooth, dark feedback and bass. Heavier on the bass drum than most Radiohead songs, we are first introduced to the vocals of Thom in a way that has a little bit more gravel than what he’d be most famous for, particularly in the outro, but that doesn’t stop the falsetto parts hitting hard. It also has the vaguer lyrics of the album, talking about a pair in the sense of some world stopping, apocalyptic event. There’s a lot of addresses to “you” on this album, many of them in the title like  here, and whether that is us the audience or some nameless person, there is something about that which is both inviting and abrasive.

We move quickly into what is not just the most famous song on this record, not only the song that gave them the clout to continue with the rest of their career, but still the most popular song in Radiohead’s entire discography: “Creep”. Even people who don’t know anything else by the band know this song, which has been the source of contention for plenty a discussion. The band themselves seem to despise the song, having not played it live since 2007. It’s portrayal of a morose, obsessive protagonist also colours the opinions of those who believe Radiohead to be entirely depressing. There’s even talk that the portrayal is supposed to be satirical, which with many an R.E.M. song I don’t buy into because there is a lack of context. But despite that, I still love this song. I love the chords – went not being Wonderwalled by acoustic wielding tossers at parties – Thom’s incredible vocal work, and the piano and guitar work by Jonny (Patrice O’Neal once had a funny bit about those chunks from Jonny’s guitar get into the centre of white people’s souls.) And yeah, I would be lying if I said at times I have felt exactly what this song gets to the heart too.

“How do You?” seems to follow on from “Creep” but in a more critical context, with the character portrayed as overtly obsessive, as well as a bully and a bigot (this changes the context of “Creep” in the album). The song is short, too short to make an impact, but the guitars by both Jonny and Ed – the latter I will try and give credit in these reviews, but that can be hard considering how much of his job is about texture – are both rip roaring and fun. They don’t really complement Thom’s voice though, and in the verses he is doing his best Frank Black impression which gets drowned out in the cacophonous sound (in a way that is neither particularly punk, grungy or effective).

Meanwhile the next track, “Stop Whispering”, is the clearest case of Radiohead talking U2 to you. Like a drier version of the Americana influenced Joshua Tree, Thom gets his Bono on in the chorus, allowing him to show the capabilities of his voice. Meanwhile the layered guitars here are atmospheric, and Philip Selway’s managing to get in some varied and evocative fills. Whilst the layered guitar doesn’t really pay off until the very end, the beginning being altogether too basic, this is one of the album’s strongest songs.

As indeed is “Thinking About You”, which thankfully is transformed from its unwarranted fast paced demo to the template for which every great Radiohead ballads. Unlike those more intricate and deep sounder followers, this one is about wacking off. Still, the mix of acoustic guitars and the slight, clean electric guitars in the background perfectly contrast with the more bitter subject matter. Of all the songs on this album, even “Creep”, I think this is the one that most demonstrates the potential the band would go on to build on in a short amount of time (though maybe it wouldn’t have killed to do one more vocal take).

The more overt themes of obsession come to a close in the first half with “Anyone Can Play Guitar”, another stronger song when it comes to the sheer onslaught of guitars on the track. Of all the songs on this album, I’m willing to bet this one is the most sarcastic, making fun of the more try-hard types in the rock and roll game. The growl from Thom when he says “I want to be like Jim Morrison” appears to give that away. Either way its probably the most exhilarating track, with the sound drop allowing Colin to show off his bass skills and keep a consistently cool groove.

This is where the album takes the biggest drop in quality. “Ripchord” is for all intense and purposes a political song with “Soul destroyed with clever toys for little boys/ it’s inevitable, inevitable, it’s a soul destroyed” showing that as much as anything on Hail to the Thief. But it doesn’t have any of those complex textures, or a particularly unique, standout melody to make it sound apart from the grunge contemporaries. Also, the line “Aeroplane, do I mean what I mean/It’s inevitable, inevitable, oh aeroplane”, is one of those lines that feels like it has the semblance of an image or idea, but instead is just plopped in to give some vague notion of commentary.

Things don’t really pick up with “Vegetable”, which as the title would suggest is a bit lifeless and limp. It’s essentially on the cusp of an aspiration, U2 like sentiment. In fact, the more I think about it, the more Radiohead do on Pablo Honey for grunge what U2 did on Boy for post-punk; use them as vessels for ideas they would much rather explore. Here though there is no particularly heightened chorus to match those ideas of paralysing modernity, and though the guitar work is great there is nowhere for it to really build to.

Things improve somewhat with “Prove Yourself”, which really is among the most Neil Young songs a non-Neil Young song can Neil Young. Having one of the lead lines be “I’m better off dead” does not do the best for the band’s more emo reputations, but either way this is better in the aspiration context than the previous track was. Plus, the guitar work by Jonny and company is great, and in a too short amount of time Philip shows off some varied and complex drum work. Again, though, the song is too short and lacking a bridge to lack any kind of impact as a strong guitar ballad.

By contrast, “I Can’t” is way too long for a song that I don’t remember a single riff from after I’ve finished. It’s a shame because this does seem to be the Radiohead song most experimenting with different guitar tones, and the contrast between clean and fuzzy fills, but none of that builds in to something that is memorable or not time wasting. Also the lyrics here seem to be dealing with some great heft, some ultimate sense of giving up. But instead this is the part where I kind of want to do the same.

Fortunately “Lurgee” is an improvement, and in a musical sense that is very much intentional, showing the narrator of the album to feel better after the dourness in the previous number. This is the track most in line with the kind of college rock that R.E.M was doing around the same time, with the jangling guitars and pining that can be found on many a track from the Out of Time/Automatic for the People era. It’s not as strong as most from that period, but it does allow Thom to shown off his tired, but triumphant vocals, and Jonny bright and high guitar work contrasts beautiful with Ed’s low, country like murmurs.

The final track, “Blow Out”, doesn’t leave the album on any particularly amazing note. Compared to the rest of the album is much quieter at the start, and that does allow the textured work of the guitar to have much more prominence. The picked double notes, eastern sounding fills and the single high note hanging in the background  give me the images of airport lobbies, and are sweet as the ‘sugar coated’ people Thom sings about. Sadly the contrast between that and the “blow up” images, with the guitars in turn doing so, don’t give off the emotional blast the band were intending. Ultimately the album ends, as the lyrics say: “wrapped up in cotton wool”

There are some songs worth listening to on Pablo Honey beyond just “Creep” – the contents of which would make for a really strong EP – and the caustic nature of the tracks do make it stand out from the rest of the Radiohead catalogue. But that seems less like the feeling of individuality, though, and more of a band who was still finding their footing in a studio. It’s also not like nothing on this album sounds like the Radiohead that would garner such acclaim. It is, but has only come in the assembly parts. Fortunately, by the span of only a year, Radiohead would have put them all together…

What did you think, though?

 

Radiohead Album Rankings

1. Pablo Honey

 

B-Side Corner

This won’t be a common occurrence, but as Radiohead has some amazing B-Sides or non album tracks, I think its’ fitting to look at them with their respective albums. They will generally be pithy, unless I think there is a lot to talk about. Unfortunately I have to start here, so there won’t be too much:

• “Stupid Car” – Thom Yorke was once, with his girlfriend at the time, nearly killed in an automobile accident. This is the first song that details that car obsession. Though then it seems to move to a song about love. I kinda preferred it when it was about the cars.

• “Inside My Head” – and this song isn’t.

• “Million Dollar Question” – the most pop punk I’ve ever heard Radiohead sound. Make of that what you will

• “Yes I Am” – this is way too mellow for anything I would associate with Radiohead. The guitar work is nice, but doesn’t have much energy to it, and is ultimately too “college rock” for my liking.

• “Killer Cars” – I don’t know if I would have ever appreciated this song being on the album, but I like the energy of the live setting and the vitriol in Thom’s voice.

• “Faithless the Wonder Boy” – The dynamic change is really wonky and abrupt, but with a better mixing I think this could have been a stronger song on the album. It also is in line with the more childish mindset of some of the songs in that track. And is clearly about heroin. I managed to get  Velvet Underground tie-in after all!

• “Coke Babies” – Oh, more drugs. Delightfully! Do you think that this song was originally on the album, and that is why the album cover is the way it is? Either way it has some eighties synthesisers and deals with the eighties favourite drug. Not particularly strong, but listening this does give you some hint of the terrains the band intended for the whole album.

• “Pop is Dead” – There is actually a music video to this one, so you would think the band was proud of it enough to not just have it as a B-Side. And I honestly think the music here is the best of all these tracks, and with more beefy tone in the guitars could have some weight. But I don’t think that would have saved the most obvious lyrics I think Thom has ever written.

• “Banana Co” – There is something particularly to the chord progressions of this song that reminds of the more psychedelic era of the Beatles. And that’s all I have.

• “Nothing Touches Me” – The most post-punk of the songs here, and Thom really puts on the affliction for it. Can’t say I like it to much, but Philip’s drums here are killer. Done. We can talk about classic album now! Yay!