Everything In Its Right Place (and Time): Radiohead before and after 2000

Throughout the 90’s, Radiohead rose to fame through their inventive take on alternative rock. The twin releases of The Bends in ‘95 and OK Computer in ‘97 were genre-defining; in each of these albums Radiohead broke apart the conventions of alt-rock and reconstructed it in their own image. What set The Bends apart from its contemporaries was Radiohead’s ability to channel vulnerability and raw emotional distress through Thom Yorke’s one-of-a-kind voice. A balance of heavy electric guitar tracks with emotionally resonant ballads created a sound that captured the essence of alternative rock, while building on it in both a completely natural and an entirely innovative way. By all metrics, the transition from the harsh, domineering shredding on “My Iron Lung” into the gentle, cradling sound of “Bullet Proof … I Wish I Was” should clash and disorient the listener. Instead, each amplifies the other, heightening both songs in a paradoxically dissonant, yet pleasing way. The Bends is Radiohead's first great work, an exquisite pairing of noise and tenderness that demonstrated their mastery of the alt-rock form.

Radiohead expanded on this formula with Ok Computer: this time focusing on the anxieties and societal issues brought about by the looming digital age. This album marked their first time experimenting with electronic sounds, such as on “Fitter Happier,” where a robotic voice details a perfect world as somber piano and a cacophony of computer glitches fight for dominance in the background. Despite this techy shift, OK Computer was still very much an alternative rock album at heart–one of the very best–highlighted by generational classics such as “Exit Music (For a Film),” “Karma Police,” and “No Surprises.” The first six-track run is absolutely unreal, and it is genuinely unfair to have that many 10/10 songs in a row. The album achieved unprecedented levels of critical recognition, with glowing reviews from outlets like Rolling Stone and Mojo. Q magazine’s review goes as far as to say “And that is that. A landmark on every latitude… It's an emotionally draining, epic experience. Now Radiohead can definitely be ranked high among the world's greatest bands.” Clearly, people knew right from the jump that this album was something special, and ever since 1997, it has been consistently considered one of (if not the) greatest albums of all time.

Three years later, eight months into the twenty-first century, masses of excited Radiohead fans put their freshly bought Kid A discs into their CD players and anticipated a continuation of the style progression heard on the past two albums. Until the opening track started playing, they let their imaginations run wild. Would this new album be a direct continuation of OK Computer’s sound? Or rather, would it be in the vein of Pablo Honey in hopes of recapturing the universal success of “Creep?” Maybe they would conform to the alternative rock landscape and release something more conventional? However, as fans across the world pressed their play buttons and heard the whirr of their discs picking up speed, all preconceived notions of what this album could have sounded like were dispelled. This is where Radiohead’s music took an irreversible shift, all stemming from the song that changed it all: “Everything In Its Right Place.”

If an alternative rock album is your standard automobile, The Bends and OK Computer are race cars: both clearly still the familiar vehicle we’re used to, but with enhancements that magnify their strengths and bolster their appeal. Kid A is a helicopter². From the moment the first few synth chords of “Everything In Its Right Place” cascade into one another, it's immediately apparent that a whole new dimension is in play. Kid A took OK Computer’s dip into electronica and turned it into a fully-fledged cannonball. Take OK Computer’s “Electioneering” and Kid A’s title track, for example. Both tracks begin with abrasive technological snippets, but where “Electioneering” transitions into a traditional rock anthem, “Kid A” embraces these sounds and hums a mechanical lullaby underscored by Yorke’s heavily autotuned robotic voice. While the album retains rock elements on tracks like “The National Anthem” and “Optimistic,” they take a back seat to the futuristic production and alien atmosphere that define Kid A’s sound.

The initial three-song stretch of “Everything In Its Right Place” into “Kid A” into “The National Anthem” might’ve seemed impossible to follow up, but Radiohead manages to do so, surprising the listener once more with what at first appears to be an out-of-place acoustic sound. “How to Disappear Completely” is Kid A’s counterpart to The Bends’ “Fake Plastic Trees”– a Jeff Buckley-esque ballad highlighting the glasslike fragility of Yorke’s voice. However, this time around, there’s this lingering siren synth that seems to hide away in the back of the track, bobbing and weaving between gaps and breaks in the words. And then, three-quarters of the way through the song, once the lyrics stop, the siren senses an opening and takes over completely. The synth grows in strength and dissonance until the last 30 seconds, where wordless vocals come back in, and the synth bends towards them, merging into a beautiful audio-tapestry of digital and analog.

In the next track, we see that Yorke’s wish has been granted: he has disappeared completely. “Treefingers” is a nearly four-minute ambient track, devoid of anything even remotely human. “Treefingers” feels like being on Mars; it feels like being a kid again, all alone on a dark road illuminated only by the warm amber glow of sodium streetlights³ forming parallel lines off into oblivion. The listener misses the comfort and familiarity of the guiding voice that has been there for just about every single Radiohead song before this one. But that alleviation never comes. For four minutes, you wait for the song to pick up, to strengthen and justify this auditory detour it has taken you on. But that’s not the right way to look at it. This song is not an interlude; it is the nucleus. Radiohead’s thesis in “Treefingers” seems to be that as technology continues to develop, even our media, which has been defined by its humanity for so long, will change and adapt to the cultural landscape. While “Treefinger”’s sound was nothing particularly new at the time, pioneered by greats like Brian Eno decades ago, it was unprecedented within the context of a rock band’s album, and is one of the defining moments in Radiohead’s discography.

The duty of ending the album is entrusted to the partner tracks of “Motion Picture Soundtrack” and “Untitled”. “Motion Picture Soundtrack” starts in the now-familiar softer Radiohead style à la “How to Disappear Completely”, this time supplemented by the enveloping murmur of a pump organ. This depressing instrument embroiders upon Yorke’s voice, matching and magnifying every tiny inflection of his to create a truly funereal sound. The song is a eulogy for the album, and also for the era that precedes it. Right at the height of this send-off, as Yorke takes a moment to collect himself, something shifts in the air. The pump organ disappears, leaving a moment of complete silence; despair itself has halted. And then, a wall of angelic sound slams into the listener’s ears as a chorus of digitally-hashed harps accompany the next verse. The tone is now buoyant, and the mood is nigh antithetical to the first half of the song. Yorke’s voice rises, gaining resolve, peaking just in time to pair with the return of the pump organ for the final line of the album: “I will see you in another life.” And with that the cycle is complete, rebirth has occurred, exhibited to the listener in the form of “Untitled”. This song is a minute-long voiceless experience difficult to put into writing. “Untitled” is an all-consuming explosion of synth; the big bang in a song, a newborn opening its eyes for the first time. It’s the inception of technological consciousness, the reinvention of humanity under forever-altered circumstances, the final cry of a self-sabotaging race escaping off into space. It’s Kid A.

Following this keystone release, Radiohead’s sound developed unrestricted. No longer limited to their alt-rock roots, a new era of Radiohead came about through their delve into the indie genre and beyond. The band continued releasing projects in new signatures, such as Amnesiac and Hail To the Thief, culminating in the release of their final classic: In Rainbows⁴. This album is all over the place: jittery, clamorous drums on “15 Step,” resonant, impassioned piano on “All I Need,” sweet, tender guitar on “Faust Arp.” Attempting to put a label on it is an impossibility. The beauty of In Rainbows is that its consistency does not come from its genre or style, but from the potency and cohesion of the feelings it inspires within the listener.

This newfound freedom underlines Radiohead’s evolution as a whole. Before the year 2000, Radiohead was one of the most acclaimed alternative rock bands ever, and their sound was neatly defined within this categorization. However, with the release of Kid A, Radiohead reached a point of auditory singularity that meant their music could take whatever form they wished and it would still sound like “Radiohead.” This freedom allowed Radiohead to become a truly genre-agnostic band, relieving them of their prior binding to alternative rock. The projects that arose from this development ingrained them as not just one of the greatest rock bands of all time, but one of the greatest bands of all time. Radiohead’s artistic progression showcases what happens when a band refuses to let their success stand in the way of innovation. A jigsaw falling into place.