My father lovingly described the music of Radiohead’s OK Computer as “Nerd music” music for people who listened to too much music. While I do not disagree with his diagnosis here, I think the album can have a greater appeal than just that. Never have I been so thoroughly captivated by a single album, and that says quite a lot, considering I’ve spent countless hours deciphering Led Zeppelin’s Led Zeppelin IV or thoughtfully pondering Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon or appreciating the flow and rhyming skill on Logic’s The Incredible True Story.

​But despite how much I love these albums, they still feel like relics from the past. Beautiful, undeniably, but definitely from a different era. What makes OK Computer special is that, despite being released 25 years ago, it still sounds like it was recorded tomorrow. ​

HISTORY

​In 1996, British music was in a strange place. The monster of Britpop was exhaling its dying breath and the future looked uncertain. In 1995, Radiohead released their second album, The Bends, a euphoric mix of grunge, folk, and alternative rock. While it was a moderate success when released, the British press seemed to care much more about the ongoing battle between Blur and Oasis. But when all of this drama subsided not even a year later, a strange opening was left, and it was not clear who exactly would fill it. Radiohead vocalist Thom Yorke was weary and tired of all the promotion he had to do for The Bends, and everyone in the band agreed that they wanted to create something that was more… real.

The band retreated to the historic mansion of St. Catherine's court to begin recording a third album. They used the various rooms of the mansion to create effects of natural reverberation, such as that heard on “Exit Music (For a Film)”. The band recorded most of the album live, rather than overdubbing. Guitarist Ed O’Brien remarked, “I hate doing overdubs, because it just doesn't feel natural. … Something special happens when you're playing live; a lot of it is just looking at one another and knowing there are four other people making it happen.” Yorke decided to use mostly first-takes of his voice, stating if he tried to perfect further attempts he would “start to think about it and it would sound really lame.” Godrich, the album’s engineer, decided to take a more hands-off approach to mixing, remarking “I feel like I get too into it. I start fiddling with things and I fuck it up … I generally take about half a day to do a mix. If it's any longer than that, you lose it. The hardest thing is trying to stay fresh, to stay objective.”

By early 1997, the album was ready for release, and what Radiohead had ended up creating was the perfect statement of turn-of-the-century angst and paranoia. They had firmly planted a seed of humanity and musicality in a world that was ever becoming made of steel and fiberglass and silicon and random access memory. They poignantly outlined the key motifs of the century to come; the subtle yet somehow disturbing comfort of conformity, the loss of a sense of uniqueness or individuality in a world that allows us to be as individual or unique as we like, the increasing monotony of life in a world full of opportunities, and the ever present loss of humanity in a world that consistently becomes more robotic. Even the name, OK Computer, sounds so casual in a world with “OK Google” or “Hey Siri.” For a band to have predicted this 25 years ago is quite the achievement.

TrackS

​The opening track of OK Computer, “Airbag” sees Thom Yorke recall a time he nearly died in an automobile accident. “In a fast German car, I'm amazed that I survived. An airbag saved my life.” he drones over the dissonant yet melodic guitar riff. Yorke teaches us an important lesson: While technology may have the power to be our saving grace (Much as the airbag was Yorke’s), it also has the power to be our demise. (Had the airbag malfunctioned, a fault of technology, Yorke would have been dead, not to mention it was the fault of our reliance on technology that Yorke had gotten into the accident in the first place) Yorke also sings ironic themes of rebirth:  “In the neon sign scrolling up and down, I am born again” It is funny how we seem to be undergoing a “rebirth” at time where rapidly changing technology seems to only make our lives more stagnant than ever.

The next track, “Paranoid Android” is split into four unique parts. The first part opens with a calming but melancholic acoustic guitar riff with ambient electric guitar clean tones. Yorke sings about Paranoia and the desire for some peace and quiet. “Please could you stop the noise?” he pleads. “I'm trying to get some rest.” Soon, the song diverges into a darker groove, and Yorke starts to go into themes of conformity and the loss of individuality. “Ambition makes you look pretty ugly.” he sings, giving us a glimpse into a world where we can achieve anything we want but are frowned upon for doing so. The third part of the song breaks into a choral arrangement that is beautiful and anguished at the same time. Its heavy emotion is interrupted by the final quarter, a coda back to the second part with higher energy and distorted electric guitar usage.

“Subterranean Homesick Alien” opens with a fingerstyle electric guitar intro that quickly turns into a chill piece accented by ambient guitar licks and electric piano. Yorke’s lyrics paint the picture of a dull and polluted place: “The breath of the morning I keep forgetting the smell of the warm summer air.I live in a town where you can't smell a thing [and] you watch your feet for cracks in the pavement.” The narrator of the song criticizes the worst aspect of humanity from his down-to-earth perspective: “Of all these weird creatures who lock up their spirits, Drill holes in themselves and live for their secrets.” The speaker wishes an alien spaceship would swoop down and take him away. As he is taken far away from the earth, he would be able to see the beauty of the stars and the greater meaning of it all, far removed from the trivial and mundane aspects of human life. He laments that, despite seeing everything from a bird's eye view, his friend’s wouldn’t care, simply stuck being cogs in the machine: “I'd tell all my friends but they'd never believe me, they'd think that I'd finally lost it completely. I'd show them the stars and the meaning of life. They'd shut me away.” It’s a beautiful and sad testament to how often we are content with being a part of a boring and monotonous system and don’t often bother to think outside of the boxes we are given.

“Exit Music (For a Film)” starts the haunting strum of sustained chords on a reverb-ridden acoustic guitar. Yorke’s haunting, ghost-like vocals describe defying an unjust system that forces us to conform: “Today, we escape, we escape.” A ghostly bridge follows, with the choir of mellotron tape synthesizers accenting the powerful but melancholic vocals urging the listener not to lose hope, despite how hopeless the fight against the juggernaut of conformity may seem. After one more chilling verse with the sounds of a whispering wind in the background, the drums kick in and the listener ascends to another plane of existence. The incredibly distorted bass provides all of the backing needed to immediately inject energy into the track and somehow it still hits like a slap in the face. Yorke engages the high range of voice, screaming rebelliously “We hope your rules and wisdom choke you.” The whole track climaxes in a powerful euphoric moment with Yorke singing his heart out, the drums crashing, the bass growling, and the mellotron choir filling up the remaining spaces in the wall of sound. This is my favorite song on the whole album, and easily one of the most beautiful songs ever written.

It's hard to follow up an epic like the previous track, but “Let Down” does this flawlessly. It's almost cheerful sounding, most odd for the ever-dejected Radiohead, but there is definitely a crestfallen twinge in the whole thing. As clean electric guitar creates a soundscape reminiscent of a U2 song, Yorke talks about how monotonous and disappointing modern life can be, using the setting of public transportation. “The emptiest of feelings, Disappointed people clinging onto bottles,” he sings softly in his strained but somehow equally beautiful falsetto. The sad and comforting melody makes for the perfect song for travel, not even taking into account the references to transportation in the song: “Transport, motorways and tramlines, starting and then stopping, taking off and landing.” While perhaps not as widely listened to as the hits off the album such as “Karma Police” and “No Surprises”, the songs in between offer just as many pleasant surprises.

Speaking of “Karma Police”, OK Computer’s sixth track opens with a memorable piano riff in an intriguing chord progression. Yorke criticizes our tendency to heavily judge others: “Karma police, arrest this man” he pleads, somewhat sarcastically. Yorke shows that we will go as far as to wish harm or punishment onto others for nothing more than perceived idiosyncrasies we don’t like. The song transitions to a quieter major chord progression, that throws us off with a major 7th chord and creates some dissonance, with a piano riff that almost teases the listener. “This is what you get when you mess with us” jabs Yorke. The narrator then comes to a terrifying realization that he himself is not immune to the Karma Police, and starts to worry as the chords switch to a more dreamy progression and the soundscape becomes more ambient. “For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself.” Yorke drone’s in his signature falsetto. The chords continue, with the soundscape becoming slowly dreamier and dreamier as the narrator’s humanity continues to slip from him, giving rise to a robotic and dissonant noise that becomes louder and louder until it conquers the entire song, showing that the man has died and the machine has prevailed.

A robotic voice reassures us in “Fitter Happier”, but it feels anything but comforting. A machine-like whir plagues the whole track and the seemingly “nice” life the robot lays comes across as monotonous and boring sounding. The robot is trying to prescribe a nice life for us, but its cold lifeless voice only serves to frighten us. “Fitter, happier, More productive, Comfortable, Not drinking too much.” It is not saying these things as warm and welcome advice, but rather as commandments and orders that we must follow under threat of punishment. As the song progresses, the noise becomes more dissonant and uncomfortable and a detuned piano serves to preserve the terrifying atmosphere further. The words of the robot become darker too: “No killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants, Nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate, No chance of escape.” It is unnerving how this non-human narrator seems to be aware of our worst, most sociopathic crimes, and how they are intent on keeping us restricted, if not for our own safety than to keep us under control. “A cat on a stick that’s driven into frozen winter shit, the ability to laugh at weakness” As the song comes to close, the listener cannot help but be thrown into a pit of chilling despair and terror. “A pig in a cage on antibiotics.” We are the pig, put on antibiotics to shield us from danger. How does the life of a farm pig end? Are we to end up with the same fate? The entire song is simply describing what modern life is like, yet somehow it manages to be the most haunting song on the entire album. Clearly, there is something deeply wrong with modern life.

Our existential crisis is interrupted by the commotion of a distorted guitar and a clanging cowbell on “Electioneering”. The album re-injects itself with energy as Yorke begins to sing a commentary on our political system. “Riot shields, voodoo economics, It's just business, cattle prods and the I.M.F,” he sings, criticizing the atmosphere of neoliberal capitalism and “letting the free market do its thing” that was ever pervasive at the time, and its detrimental effects on the average person and third-world countries. Radiohead were very critical of Ronald Reagan’s “trickle down” economic policy, and were especially critical of Labour PM Tony Blair, who had recently won at the time, and how despite his party affiliation was ever eager to continue the policies of Reagan and Thatcher. The idea behind Reagan’s policy was that slashing government spending and easing taxes on corporations would stimulate the economy and thus the benefits would eventually “trickle down” through the increased state-wide prosperity. Yorke was distrustful of this, and for good reason. It shouldn’t be the responsibility of private companies to provide for the citizens of a nation, especially when those private companies have proven in the past to be untrustworthy and uncaring for the interests of the common man. Besides making a statement about politics and economics, “Electioneering” is an energetic and enjoyable track that does not disappoint, and at least provides some consolation to the haunting horror of the previous track.

But on the topic of haunting horror, “Climbing Up the Walls” starts with the eerie robotic chatter and subtle microphone feedback that immediately creates an unnerving feeling. This is then accented when the clipped drums and distorted synthesizer bass kicks in. Thom Yorke begins to sing from the perspective of fear itself: I am the key to the lock in your house that keeps your toys in the basement. And if you get too far inside, you'll only see my reflection.” The lyrics are an unnerving reminder of how much paranoia and fear afflict us all, and just how inescapable they seem. The chord progression shifts for the chorus: “And either way you turn, I'll be there. Open up your skull, I'll be there” The robotic high pitched squeals of the electric guitar and synthesizer soundscape only become more disturbing as the track progresses. The narrator feeds off of your fear as the song grows darker and darker, as a string section played quarter tones apart kicks in, finalizing the goosebumps.

After the terror of the last three tracks, the listener is desperately in need of some sort of comfort. “No Surprises” delivers this comfort in the form of one of the most beautiful songs on the entire album. A clean lullaby-like guitar melody, xylophone, and comforting bassline remind us that, despite the great horrors in the world, it may all turn out to be alright in the end. Thom Yorke begins to sing, this time the lyrics being much more resigned sounding: “I’ll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide, with no alarms or no surprises please.” The lyrics paint a picture of a man who despises modern society but feels defeated in his rebellion against it, so instead just decides to secure for himself the best life that he can. The entire song is just so sad and pretty, and this tearful concoction makes this the natural point of emotional catharsis for the listener (I am somewhat ashamed to admit I have cried multiple times to this track). As Yorke wails “Such a pretty house, and such a pretty garden,” all I can think to myself is "Such a pretty song”.

After the mental release of the previous track, something slower and more mesmerizing comes to fill the hole left in the listener. “Lucky” opens with a trance-like electric guitar number. Yorke uses the symbolism of an airplane crash to represent his fear of long-distance travel (a theme echoed on “Airbag”) and his need for a helping hand in life. He wails a chorus over the sound of a flanged guitar lead “Pull me out of the aircrash, pull me out of the lake. 'Cause I'm your superhero. We are standing on the edge…” The entire song gives the feeling of traveling on a long flight, or walking down a long, lonely road. It’s the perfect way to slowly release the stress of the previous tracks.

“The Tourist” opens with a chill ambient soundscape forged by clean guitars and the soft sound of ride cymbals. The guitar riffs soar on the sound waves, and Yorke’s ethereal vocals take center stage: “They ask me where the hell I'm going, at a thousand feet per second,” Yorke sings, telling the story of a tourist who spends every waking moment trying to get somewhere new. The entire message of the song is simple: “Slow down, and enjoy life.” The whole thing is punctuated by brilliant yet somehow relaxed electric guitar solos. “Idiot, slow down, slow down,” Yorke yells over the floating instrumental, painting a vast world that, as we are told, does not need to be explored to every possible corner, but thoroughly enjoyed. The last sound we hear on the album is drummer Phil Selway hitting a triangle. The chime could represent a few things: It could represent the ding we hear from modern appliances, like a toaster or microwave oven, emphasizing the monotony of modern life. It could represent a sudden shift in attitude, and society finally changing their ways for the better. It could represent the car from “Airbag” crashing again. The truth is, we can’t know for sure, but we do know for certain that the chime creates an iconic and memorable end to this masterpiece.

Conclusion​

Fully unpacking the entirety of Radiohead’s OK Computer is a Herculean task, to put it lightly. An incredible amount of symbolism and complexity has been jam packed into this record while maintaining beautiful and listenable songs. OK Computer can be seen as a series of balances. The balance of experimentalism and conventional songwriting, the balance of rock music and electronic music, the balance of humanity and artificial intelligence, the balance of modernity and tradition, and the balance of hope and despair. The entire thing is a beautiful summary of all of the themes that make up our modern world, no matter how obvious or covert, and a statement of raw emotion that many can relate to. Quite frankly, OK Computer is the work that painted the picture for century to come, cementing itself as the greatest album of all time, justifiably ranking very highly on polls to come.

So genre-defying, so satirical, so sad, so beautiful, so Radiohead.

Erik Wilberding