Day 2/7: Some people will tell you that the new texturally-rich Radiohead is better now than ever. Others, that 1997s OK Computer was their last great album. Ill try and keep it objective by saying: OK Computer was Radioheads final pop album. OK Computer was both a seamless follow up to the mainstream success of 1995s The Bends (and especially the song Creep) and a style guide for everything Radiohead would embark on from here. Critically, it would be a slow burn, but in time the sound developed by Radiohead on OK Computer would become the template for a new era of Britpop (Coldplay, etc.) which was less chav and more introspective. This was the album where engineer Nigel Godrich would step up and become imperative to the production, bringing his working knowledge of electronic music and quirky studio equipment to the bands sound. I was 13 when OK Computer came out. I never had an older sibling to pass this stuff down to me, but one of my best friends did. Russells older brother had been to a Christian camp for aspiring pastors and had returned with a new perspective on the music he had been listening to. Compared to worship music, bands like Radiohead seemed Godless and indulgent. So he decided to smash his CDs up with a hammer. Somehow I managed to spare OK Computer the hammer. There are some incredible anthems on the album, not the least of which is Paranoid Android - truly my generations Bohemian Rhapsody. That song exemplifies the uncomfortable messages of anti-consumerism and anti-debt that Yorke would go on to champion in his public life (and that Coldplays Chris Martin would also shamelessly leach onto). The most stirring song on OK Computer is Exit Music (From a Film), which put the iconic MIDI choir featured in Paranoid Android to its best use by creating an ethereal bed for Yorkes emotive and expressive falsetto: We hope that you choke, that you choke. But the song I want to share today is No Surprises. Imagine it in the context of Britpop. Oasis is all posturing, Blur is all jocular fun, Spice World just got released... ... and then Radiohead put this on the telly. Their reclusive lead singer drowning in a fishbowl as some of the most sorrowful lyrics in modern pop scroll mechanically up the glass. Midway, Yorke stops singing along entirely. This should never have been a single. Not in the context of 1997, and not now. But its testament to the power of Yorks songwriting that it became one of the albums greatest hits. For me, this song defines a time before the internet. Before meeting people was easy (to borrow a phrase). When being politically aware meant feeling totally helpless against the monumental authority of the ruling class. Of watching large corporate brands like Nike outsource their manufacturing to Indonesia and the Philippines, knowing exactly what would happen and still never being able to say I told you so. Of understanding how debt was shackling the developing world and realising what a stupid, intangible thing money is in the modern banking system. Of seeing how materialism subscribed even those of us fortunate enough to be born into privilege to a lifetime of wage-related servitude. OK Computer was instrumental in establishing my world view. Its Yorke at his most activist. This album was the soundtrack to every anti-globalisation and anti-commercial-GMO rally I ever joined in on. Its probably also the reason I still feel uncomfortable telling people I work in advertising. This was the best song on the last great Radiohead album. There, I said it.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 20:32:30 +0000
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