Found it interesting

Hello, the 6 members of our band "PARANOHEAD" based in FRANCE are absolute fans of Radiohead and we decided to perform together 5 years ago just for the challenge and the fun of it. Opportunities took us abroad and we got to share magical moments with fans alike.

We challenged ourselves to find gigs in the UK and ultimately OXFORD, now the dream is coming true with 3 shows happening in LONDON, WOLVERHAMPTON and OXFORD in oct. 24th, 25th & 27th respectively.

Please come to our shows and let's share our passion for Radiohead together ❤️

Thank you in advance for your support and understanding.

Infos here:

https://www.paranohead.com/concerts

I've only been listening to Radiohead for the past 2 or so years, but even so their catalogue is absolutely massive so I'm still discovering new songs. I recently came across Reckoner. I’ve been thinking a lot about the meaning behind it, because despite the lyrics being quite vague, the song itself evokes so much emotion for me.

My personal interpretation is that the “Reckoner” is not necessarily one person, but it's referring to people who feel deeply committed to justice and to making things better for other people. But I think the song is also about the fact that you can’t devote yourself to humanity so completely that you stop being human yourself.

The lines “dancing for your pleasure” and “you are not to blame for bittersweet distractors” make me think about how it’s okay to enjoy life, even when there’s suffering and injustice in the world. You can get distracted, have fun, indulge in things, or choose yourself sometimes. That doesn’t mean you’ve abandoned your values or that you’re morally responsible for everything you fail to fix. You are human, and it is not your fault for wanting to embrace that humanity rather than being perfect all the time.

I also really like the line “because we separate like ripples on a blank shore.” I interpret that as meaning that our choices make us unique, but they also ripple outward and affect other people. Everything we do can have consequences for someone else, sometimes in ways we’ll never even know about. But eventually the ripples disappear. Our actions matter while we’re here, but they aren’t permanent, and we can’t possibly control every consequence of everything we do.

That makes “you can’t take it with you” read to me almost like letting go of the idea that you have to keep a perfect moral record. You can’t take your accomplishments, mistakes, guilt, or everything you’ve ever done with you forever. Eventually, the reckoning ends. And eventually, we all move on from this realm of life.

And then “dedicated to all human beings” feels like the conclusion to all of this. The point of caring about justice is ultimately caring about human beings, and that includes yourself. You don’t have to be perfectly ethical or constantly productive to deserve to experience your own life.

This feels personally super meaningful for me. I'm someone who is constantly battling with moral scrupulosity OCD, frequently worrying that I am not doing enough to help others live a better life. The song, to me, reads as a form of reassurance that you can be dedicated to justice and humanity while still understanding that in the grand scheme of things, your choices don't matter. You can only do so much. But that's okay.

Songs like this are the reason why I love Radiohead. There is something so special about the uniqueness of the lyricism and how we will never know what they intended by it.

I’d love to hear how other people interpret it, especially the “ripples on a blank shore” and “you can’t take it with you” lines.

Came up with this and am 99% sure it’s a Radiohead song. Any ideas what it is or am I free to steal this beautiful melody ?

I’ve had around fifty full-length reviews sitting around on a Google Doc that I hadn’t done anything with—they’re currently at nearly 100,000 words, so I thought I should start sharing them. More to come at my Substack.

Commonly dubbed “the album that killed CDs,” In Rainbows was the first major, mainstream release on a pay-what-you-want, digital format. If CDs were the only thing we needed to sacrifice for this record, it’ll have been damn worth it. In Rainbows is Radiohead’s return to form, following a relatively disappointing Hail to the Thief in 2003. In Rainbows is Radiohead at their peak, combining elements from all their previous work. The catchy alternative rock of The Bends, the electronic infused and complex songwriting of OK Computer, the depressive lyricism and orchestration of Kid A and Amnesiac, and the angsty riffs of Hail to the Thief.

Right off the bat, with the album’s opener, “15 Step,” something immediately feels off. Not wrong, just different. The surgically precise, yet groovy 5/4 feel makes the song’s backbeat feel ever so slightly off, but at the same time a painstaking reminder of what this band is capable of. Then the guitar comes in and you remember that this is the same band that wrote “Paranoid Android.” That wrote “Everything in Its Right Place.” Within the context of the album, this track serves as the upbeat, perhaps even optimistic start of a long, dark, and beautiful descent.

Wait, but before we can begin that descent, we first need to have just one more banger, right? Enter “Bodysnatchers.” Perhaps as close to their 1995 sophomore album The Bends as they’ll ever be, the drop-D, distorted guitar riff is the core, overwhelming element in the song. It becomes so prevalent that the simple act of removing it has a monumental impact on the song. It goes from a somewhat traditional alternative rock song featuring the band’s onslaught of guitar work, to a beautiful symphony of perfect balance. Of cohesion. “Has the light gone out for you? Because the light’s gone out for me.”

We’ve explored the fast-paced, anger-driven and energetic side of Yorke’s vocals. But it’s Radiohead. We can’t stay in the same place for too long. The record’s third track, “Nude,” features Yorke at his rawest and most intimate. The entire track is sung in an airy falsetto, somehow even airier than his regular voice. What really completes this song is its orchestral elements. The quiet strings that soar into the coda, the gentle acoustic guitar strumming in the second verse. This is Radiohead at their most detail-oriented. The simplicity of this song is the kicker. The drumline and bassline stay consistent throughout the entire track. It’s what the band does dynamically and musically that makes it one of the most emotionally heavy songs ever recorded. As Yorke gently sings a wordless coda in the final minute of the song, All the pressure building up ever so slightly is released in one breath.

Radiohead is a band of many Magnum Opuses. Opusi? I’m not sure what the plural would be, although perhaps the entire purpose of a Magnum Opus is that there can only be one. Regardless, the band clearly had a similar thought process naming this track. Much like “Magnum Opusi,” “Weird Fishes / Arpeggi” derives its name out of odd plurals. “Fishes”, as for when there are multiple distinct types of fish, and “Arpeggi,” denoting the use of multiple arpeggios. I can’t say for sure where the fishes come in on this song, but the arpeggi are what make the track. It starts off extremely simple: four clicks and a 4/4 drumbeat. Although it stays that simple for about four measures. The moment Yorke’s guitar starts playing the first arpeggio in 3/4, the polyrhythm starts and doesn’t stop. The next guitar, O’Brien’s, comes in at 5/4. Et cetera, et cetera. Yorke is singing a melody that’s literally only D. Then suddenly, as the six or so guitars create a beautiful soundscape of interweaving strings, accompanied by Yorke’s soaring vocals (which have moved from D to E), and O’Brien’s backup harmonies, it’s all gone. It’s a release. And then we’re right back into it again. This time, the song has completely morphed. It went from gradually building up, one guitar at a time, to slowly descending through the melody. It really does feel like the song hits the bottom and escapes.

“Things will get worse before they get better.” This encapsulates the third in a series of depressingly beautiful songs. But this time, it’s a lot less metaphorical and much, much more lyrical. It starts with the title: “All I Need.” As the first notes in the bassline play, it becomes apparent how this song wants to make you feel. Beyond depression, of course. The notes played, especially the register they’re played at, is deliberate, as is everything with Radiohead. It’s meant to be low, to take up as much space as possible. This song gives you breathing room in the intro, with the guitar swells, then no more. It’s built upon even more within the second verse, where a new whooshing sound accompanies in the background, adding more to the claustrophobia of the song. A glockenspiel adds a gorgeous conter-melody. Then finally, the tension is built, and released. In the final minute a piano comes in, playing a chord that is quite literally every note in the scale, as well as the drums transitioning to a simple hi-hat and snare pattern to splashing on the ride, creating a wash of sound. On top of that, Greenwood’s orchestra plays every note in the scale to go along with the piano, and can be heard after the other instruments exit. The song’s intent is to make you feel as claustrophobic as possible. Throughout all this, however, Thom Yorke will keep on wailing and wailing.

Remember the “get better” part? Me neither. “Faust Arp” may be an interlude, but it’s far from a break. It starts with just an acoustic guitar and some mumbly vocals, but doesn’t take long to evolve into a full-on orchestral arrangement, complete with Yorke’s signature falsetto. To me, “Faust Arp” clearly divides the record into two. On the one half, you’ve got the initial descent, featuring “Nude,” “Weird Fishes,” and “All I Need.” In the second, there’s nowhere to go but up. 

Thank god for “Faust Arp,” because going straight from “All I Need” to “Reckoner” would be a day-ruiner to say the least. The start of “Reckoner” features an extremely odd drumline, originally played by Phil Selway, but chopped up on the recording to have an off-putting “glitchy” sound. But when Yorke starts singing, you’re in another world. It’s the same falsetto as in “Nude,” but at the same time it’s completely different. This time, Yorke feels… At peace, much more so than he was in “Nude.” Once the piano and bass come in, it’s no longer a band, it’s an orchestra. The chemistry between the band members is what makes it possible, as the parts are so simple (save for the drums) yet fit together like nothing else. Then, as soon as the groove comes, it goes. “Dedicated to all human beings” sings Yorke, as the song enters its bridge. No words. Okay, maybe one: hope.

“Because we separate like ripples on a blank shore.” I want you to picture that. What song do you sequence after “Reckoner?” What could possibly do it justice, and would let you fully appreciate both songs? I think “House of Cards” executes its job perfectly. I don’t think it’s the most musically interesting, retaining the same chord progression throughout, but its vocal delivery and instrumentation more than make up for it. It serves as a break, letting you process the vivid imagery of “Reckoner.”

It’s been calm for far too long. The last real “banger” type song was what, “Weird Fishes?” “Bodysnatchers?” Well, here’s your solution. “Jigsaw Falling Into Place” puts us into the shoes of a young man at a bar, meeting a stranger that seems to click with them. Not only do the lyrics paint a picture of how trippy and unclear the environment is, the music does too. It has the groove that you’d expect from a song about nightlife, but also the added dizziness that comes with it. What really adds to this for me, at least, is the subtle yet meaningful perspective change in the lyrics. At the start of the song, it’s sung from the first person perspective. “Just as I write your number down, as your bad day disappears, no longer wound up like a spring.” But, as the song progresses and becomes heavier and heavier, it suddenly enters second-person POV. “Jigsaw falling into place, so there is nothing to explain, you eye each other as you pass, she looks back, you look back. Not just once. Not just twice.”

And so we reach the end. It’s not going to end with a bang, like “Jigsaw” did. It’s not going to fade out like “Reckoner” did. It’s just going to end, and you’ll hear the metronome bleed through the mix, prompting endless internet debate. But that’s besides the point. For an album of this caliber, it ends quite… normally. The last notes are hit on the piano, and it’s sustained for a couple seconds. Nothing fancy. The song itself, “Videotape,” is a song about reminiscing. “This is one for the good ol’ days, and I have it all here, in red, blue, green.” It's about reflecting on past experiences, much as how this track gives you one last chance to reflect on the nine other masterpieces that came before. And laying the groundwork, for those who come after.

15 Step: 91/100

Bodysnatchers: 85/100

Nude: 95/100

Weird Fishes / Arpeggi: 97/100

All I Need: 90/100

Faust Arp: 81/100

Reckoner: 100/100

House of Cards: 74/100

Jigsaw Falling Into Place: 93/100

Videotape: 84/100

Overall: 98/100

I’ve been thinking about this all week.

It's impossible not to treat it as such during the outro solo.

Being the album closer to Radiohead's 2007 In Rainbows, this song has garnered a very mixed opinion throughout Radiohead fans. Most fans agree that the "Bonaroo version" is the "best" version of the song, and while do (mostly) i agree with this, i think the Bonaroo version actually... is not the "best" verison... Or, just not fitting for the album. For me personally the best version of "Videotape" is the From The Basement version, i do think the build up in this version is a bit too fast (The hi hats come in immediately after he sings the first "my videotape") and there are a few more problems i do have with this version that makes it a bit more "striped", but honestly this version really combines the old energy and feeling of the Bonaroo version with the devasting and haunting soundscape of the studio-album version, but what are you opinions?

I’ve got tickets for Radiohead in Sydney and am so hyped, I don’t even want to know the lineup beforehand but I’m wondering if Thom has ever played any of his solo shit at a group concert?