Review Summary: For Tomorrow: A Guide to Contemporary British Music, 1988-2013 (Part 16)
I exhaled and checked the time again. “5:30” He was ten minutes late. I wandered back into my office and plunked myself back down in front of my computer. “Why the hell did I even invite him to listen to this with me,” I thought to myself. “I know this album well enough, I don’t need to do this.” I wondered for a moment if maybe it wasn’t too late to call it off but he was on his way and I knew it wasn’t an easy trip. I exhaled slowly and leaned away from my keyboard, the room fell into near silence.
“BZZZT!” My apartment buzzer railed me out of my despondency and sent my heart into my throat. I descended the staircase and rested a hand on the door. Exhaling one last time, I twisted and swung the door wide.
My eyes came to rest on a boy, slightly shorter than myself, with blue eyes and a thick mop of hair that came to rest just above his shoulders. He wore thin-framed glasses that sat upon a face that was clearly clinging to its last vestiges of baby fat. Fair skinned, wearing an ill-fitting tee shirt, cargo shorts, and a pair of beat-to-hell Vans.
It was myself from my freshman year of High School.
“Hey,” he squeaked in a voice that was at least two puberties away from anything close to depth.
“Hey,” I replied.
A few seconds passed as a tentative silence fell around us. We stood there and looked at each other. Almost a decade separated us and we were the same person.
“Huh,” said younger me. “In the future I have short hair?”
“Yep,” I said, relieved someone had broken the silence. “Come on in.”
I turned and headed back up the staircase as little me trailed behind. Once we got to my living room I turned into my office and we sat in some chairs I had set up.
“So,” he started, “Why’d you invite me over?”
“Well, it was in my freshman year that I first got into Radiohead and its been a long time since I’ve really listened to
The Bends so I thought I would invite you over to help me with this review series I’m writing on contemporary British music, like, to try and figure out what made this record so important to me when I was… you.”
He nodded slowly. “What do you mean you haven’t really listened to
The Bends?”
“Uh, you know, its just a very simplistic and angst-y album. I just kinda, grew apart from it.”
Little me looked utterly bewildered. “But
The Bends is the best album ever.”
“Well, we’ll see I guess,” I said as I leaned forward and slid the CD into my computer.
There was a pause as the CD whirred to life. “Hey,” I said to my little self, “You need to be nicer to your little brother. I know everyone says that to you but I’m serious, cut him some slack.” Little me didn’t say anything. He was me from high school, I knew he wouldn’t.
Suddenly, the cold blast of atmosphere that starts “Planet Telex” filled the room. I couldn’t help but smile; I forgot how long it’s been since I’ve listened to this album. My younger self looked like he was on the verge of ecstasy. Our heads bobbed in time to the songs thick piano chords. Thom Yorke squeezed himself out of the microphone, “You can force it
but it will not come,” as Johnny Greenwood’s guitar pulled little ripples open in the air between us. It’s a sound that’s adamant to Eno but rocks like vintage Sonic Youth.
“This song is so cool,” gushed little me.
“I know, check out Collin Greenwood’s twisty bass line. Its an easy to miss detail.”
The song faded out and in trickled the tinny parade sample that introduces “The Bends.”
“Oh man here it comes.” Enthused my tiny self as he raised a hand in preparation for some air guitar. I grinned and brought my right hand up as well.
“Bring it up!” cried an anonymous voice from inside the song.
Both of our hands came slamming down in an epic mock strum for that first mammoth cord only to have them shoot up again for the rest of the slam bang riff.
Little me looked giddy at the mere chance to hear this song again, “This is just
the best song!”
“Yeah, it really captures the feeling of travel anxiety while also making it sound kind of romantic in its sheer scope.”
Little me looked at me with a puzzled expression before turning his attention back to the music. “Where do we go from here?” asked Thom, an eternal question, “The words are coming out all weird where are you now, when I need, you.” The song gently floated to rest.
Just as the “boom-tick-clack” of “High and Dry” cued up my little self asked, “So, you said you’re working on some kind of series?”
“Yeah, like, where Radiohead fits into the legacy of British pop music.”
“And where’s that?”
“Well, Radiohead were formed at the Abingdon School in Oxfordshire. Thom Yorke on vocals, Johnny and Collin Greenwood on lead guitar and bass respectively, Ed O’ Brian on rhythm guitar, and Phil Selway on the drums. They originally formed under the name On A Friday but changed their name to Radiohead at the request of EMI. Their debut single, “Creep”, couldn’t gain traction on British radio due to it being wholly out of step with the music of the period and their debut album,
Pablo Honey sold poorly. It was about a year after the release of “Creep” that the song started finding favor on, of all places, Israeli radio. Its popularity spread to other countries and soon the song was a worldwide hit. The issue with this was that Radiohead had already toured in support of
Pablo Honey and now had to tour those same songs again. This disillusionment with the grunge-lite sound of that album led to them pushing at their sound, thus,
The Bends.”
Suddenly, the opening chords to “Fake Plastic Trees” opened up. I looked over at little me, who appeared to be preparing himself for a religious experience. "Oh yeah," I said, "This is your favorite song isn't it?" He nodded eagerly before turning his attention back to the song. We sat in silence for the duration; I didn't need to say much else. I knew this song shouldn't be so leveling, it swipes the build from so many U2 songs and lays the melodrama on with goopy strings, but it just is anyway. Maybe it's due to those beguiling lyrics, “She lives with a broken mind/A cracked polystyrene man,” or maybe it's because Radiohead just never went for it with such shameless abandon after this. Either way, I'll never become so jaded that this song doesn't fill me with quiet awe.
It explodes up and out, with so much majesty and grace, then “Bones” fades in and I’m filled with another emotion, disappointment.
“Alright come on,” I started. “This song kinda sucks, especially after “Fake Plastic Trees.”
Little me frowned. “This song is awesome.”
“Like, its okay, but considering its surrounded by the transcendent “Fake Plastic Trees” and the sweetly saccharine “(Nice Dream)” that it feels really slight in comparison. Same thing with “Sulk”, those two songs are just not very good considering their circumstances.”
My little self didn’t look happy with this answer but came around when the heavy opening strums of “Just” kicked in. Once again, we didn’t speak, just air guitar’d and headbanged with reckless abandon. We really got into it when the song got to those staggering guitar solos, Johnny moving through more pedals than most bands use on entire albums, culminating in that sheer drop of silence before he comes careening back in with what sounds like his fret board being lacerating with a meat cleaver. The song ended and we had sloppy grins plastered on our faces.
“Man,” my younger self marveled, “How can you say you don’t like this album anymore?”
“Hey, I never said that. I just don’t like it as much as when I was you.”
“But why?” he asked incredulously.
“Well. It’s kind of two-dimensional. Like, don’t get me wrong; the patiently layered atmosphere on “Bullet Proof (I Wish I Was)” is still jaw dropping and “Black Star” is quite possibly one of the top ten songs these guys ever made and its just hanging out in the back of this album, but the lyrics are all really angsty and kind of pedantic.”
“That!” he leveled a finger at me, “Right there! Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Why do you have to use all these big words to make this album small? I mean, why do you… I have to be such a freaking critic?” He slumped back into his chair. “High school is no fun. I don’t get most of the subjects, mom and dad are always mad at me, and I don’t fit in with any of my friends. I wish I could just be a kid again. But then Radiohead came along and makes me feel okay to be me,” he turned to me with genuine hurt in his eyes, “Then you show up and tell me that in the future I wont like this album anymore. Well, that’s just not true, I know that deep down inside you’re still me and you still need this album.”
I paused. He was right. This album has done so much for me and here I was trying to belittle it out of some weird sense of critical duty. Sometimes you just have to feel music, no matter how inconsistent or whiny or immature it can be. And I’ll be
damned if
The Bends doesn’t still resonate somewhere deep in my heart.
We lapsed back into silence just as The final haunted guitar arpeggio of “Street Spirit (Fade Out)” came to a close.
“I love this album.”
“Me too.”
