Radiohead -- OK Computer

10/10

Radiohead excavated the buried treasure of their true gift at the end of sophomore album, The Bends: the ability to convey despair. Since they pulled this musical feeling from the pit of their hearts, they've little deviated from it, even as their sound changes in leaps and bounds.
From the first notes of Radiohead's junior effort, OK Computer, the music espouses a certain feeling tragedy like everything in the world is irrevocably wrong. As, I said above, this feeling would dominate the next ten years of Radiohead's work, until In Rainbows let in just a little light. I find all four of the albums Radiohead released between 1997-2003, despite their aural differences, to be thematically and emotionally interconnected--as singular as OK Computer is, taken as a part of a greater whole, it is even more magnificent. Musically, OK Computer takes the instruments from the previous guitar-driven rock work of the band's first two albums, and hands them to ghosts. This music sounds like it was recorded by the spectres of humanity after the apocalypse, and sent back as a haunting to their formerly living selves. Kid A, which I'll get to next, sounds like it takes place in the rubble of this apocalypse (that I am creating as my own narrative because 500,000 think pieces have been written in the last few months in support of OK Computer's 20th year anniversary, and if I'm going to add a 500,001st, I might as well make it my own...otherwise, why add to the noise?).
The band achieved OK Computer's spectral sound by heavily experimenting with effects pedals and electronics, while beefing up and giving greater prominence to their rhythm section. At the same time, it is clear that each of the players have greatly increased in talent and experience--these songs never start to blur together to me the way The Bends' do after a while. Vocalist/lyricist, Thom Yorke, has mastered the finer facets of his voice, and uses it to the emotional hilt, fully exercising his shrill, yet enjoyable falsetto at moments of peak feeling--something that The Nicsperiment, who can only sing on pitch in his falsetto, greatly appreciates.
Yorke's lyrics have morphed here from straightforward declarations of personal feeling, to metaphorical, metaphysical cultural commentary. He strongly excels at this...actually, the entire band strongly excel at everything they attempt here, giving Gen X their own Dark Side of the Moon, or whatever Baby Boomer rock album you think wildly and trippily experiments, while putting a hat on the alienating feelings of the time.
Critics have broken down these songs on a technical level to such a vast degree, it is nearly pointless for me to do the same, so the only thing that seems relevant is attempting to convey my own emotional reaction to OK Computer. The funny thing is that, living and attending high school in a rural town, with only the local college radio station to let me know what was considered cool, my initial contact with OK Computer was limited. I didn't really get into the band until they released Kid A, and honestly, seeing the artwork at the record store intrigued me to purchase that album as much as the music did. The random songs I did hear from OK Computer, like for instance, "Karma Police," or "No Surprises," didn't really tickle my fancy. It was not until a few years later, after Kid A, that I heard OK Computer in sequence, and experienced those songs true, monstrous power. So in that spirit, in sequence, how about I list the tracks side by side with a corresponding feeling.
1. "Airbag" "From an interstellar burst, I am back to save the universe..." The task of this tragic, cosmic hero feels full of despairing futility, on an epic, universal stage.
2. "Paranoid Android" The despair becomes earthbound, hyperkinetic.
3. "Subterranean Homesick Alien" And suddenly things are chill, and a bit wistful, staring at the stars over tall pines.
4. "Exit Music (For a Film)" Until the quiet hate of this song, with "We hope that you choke" never sung so softly, and yet with such veracity, burns that forest down.
5. "Let Down" Total depression, so damn beautiful in its twinkly chimes like a wake-up call to the reality of fruitless striving, but it takes "Everything Meaningless" to such a monumental, universal level, that it's infinitely crushing, "Let down and hanging around, crushed like a bug in the ground," the rhythm section a boot, stomping you down. Makes me think of the album cover more than any song here. My favorite song from OK Computer, analogous to the "American Radiohead," Appleseed Cast's "Rooms and Gardens." Let me go sob despondently for a moment.
6. "Karma Police" This song is like you drop out of the last song into a quiet, brown-grey street, and are immediately and nonsensically arrested.
7. "Fitter Happier" The automated spoken word of this song might be more depressing than "Let Down." This album, by this point, would be the hugest downer ever recorded, if not for the singular artistry on display.
8. "Electioneering" Suddenly, things get wild and fun, out of control, even though it feels just a little wrong, like things are going off the rails.
9. "Climbing Up the Walls" They don't want to choke you anymore, they want to creep up behind you and, in a moment of supreme terror, bash your skull in.
10. "No Surprises" Well after all that, as you lie half-dead in the gutter, things might as well get a little twinkly again.
11. "Lucky" Another thing that draws the thin line demarcating this album in the masterpiece quadrant, and out of the depressing drag one--the inexplicably positive lyrics of this song, like "I feel my luck could change."
12. "The Tourist" There's some bizarre closure to this song that makes it feel like it could go on forever in its demands, "Hey man, slow down. Idiot! Slow down!" infinity being the very opposite of closure. This album is perfect. On to the apocalypse. After the following rabbit-trail:


If you've never suffered from depression, just imagine this song as your mindset every waking second. You can't move. And just like the middle of a depressive episode, it feels like there's no end or hope in sight. Of course, there is, but when you're in the middle of it, that doesn't even seem like an option or possibility. "Let Down" thoroughly encapsulates these feelings better than any other piece of music I've heard.
Sorry for this digression, but I'd be remiss to review this album, say I'm getting personal, and then not mention this. Thankfully, if your life is this song, there are ways out. From someone who's been there--and in the sense that this is something that must be actively fought for a lifetime, even if I feel fine right now, is there--there's no shame in finding help.

1997 Parlophone/Capitol
1. Airbag 4:44
2. Paranoid Android 6:23
3. Subterranean Homesick Alien 4:27
4. Exit Music (For a Film) 4:24
5. Let Down 4:59
6. Karma Police 4:21
7. Fitter Happier 1:57
8. Electioneering 3:50
9. Climbing Up the Walls 4:45
10. No Surprises 3:48
11. Lucky 4:19
12. The Tourist 5:24