Radiohead aren’t the boys next door with cheesy chat ups and silly grins, engulfed in teen love, neither are they on Henry Rollins’ elevated place of philosophical reverence. Suspended somewhere in between on the Richter Scale of pop they’re down to earth enough to say ‘hi’ to their pals at the front and dedicate a song to them. Although when the song turns out to be Vegetable it makes you wonder how concordant Thom E. Yorke was with his fellow Exeter undergraduates.
Bathed in blue lighting, tonight, Radiohead were the best I’ve seen them, enigmatic and totally atmospheric. They delivered Creep, Thinking About You, Stop Whispering and the new, people friendly, My Iron Lung, with eloquence and energy. Thom looked less alienesque with his new Evan Dando haircut, but not being pouting fashion victims waiting to the next/any photo opportunity I don’t think a Dando dress will follow. Radiohead are not in it for the glamour, they’re not androgenously tailored or even trendy, Radiohead are what most bands claim to be, brilliant songsmiths.
But I do worry that, Radiohead, after 2 more albums will be in danger of becoming the next U2. They’ll be extra rich and famous, they’ll be dating gorgeous, leggy models and making documentary videos on top of big American buildings, with a cool breeze blowing. They’ll become universal and sell out at Wembley and everyone will be happy with their success (especially themselves and their record company) and Joe and Joanne Semi-Mainstream will buy up the singles collection and smooch to the Christmas No. 1.
More Of This Story: ‘anyone can play guitar’, but not as well as Radiohead (or U2).
Credibility Note: Thom is spelt with a ‘Th’ but is pronounced ‘T’ om – just as Sade is pronounced with a ‘Sh’ and not with a ‘S’.