Radiohead @ Manchester Nynex Arena, Monday 17th November 1997 |
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 Back to Lives |
You know how you feel after fifteen pints, a bad curry and a slap around the face? Well, this is what Thom Yorke looks like 24 hours a day.� It is indeed credit to him then that he can command such pure and
undivided attention from an audience the size of that in the Nynex tonight for over 90
minutes, retaining constant control for the duration. Who said you need to be pretty to be
a pop star! |
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It�s not as if he�s abundantly ugly either. It�s just that his expression looks permanently troubled or disillusioned. It�s like his inner demons are desperately battling to escape the confines of his tortured body. Of course, he lets these demons out in the only way he knows how. Through heart-wrenching, bittersweet, breeze block pop songs.� They explode onto stage under an avalanche of crunching distortion and stuttering beats with �Airbag� and don�t let go of the pace until the last bar of �Street Spirit� rings out an hour and a half later. Even the ballads maintain a gritty intensity.� And the volume, that guitar sound, his voice and those songs. You feel drawn in, like they�ve taken you�re attention and bolt locked it firmly in their grasp. And they�re not going to let it go. Not for any ransom.� |
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Some bands struggle to make a sound big enough to fill an entire club, never mind an arena. Radiohead though aim beyond mere concrete boundaries. They want the stars, and one day they�ll probably have them.� Their inter-planetary sound is somehow so beautiful, yet also so harsh
and cutting. They can make you scream with anticipation, smile with intense pleasure and
reduce you to tears all within the space of one song.� |
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The set is made up mainly from the eclectic scattering of OK Computer, punctuated with blasts from The Bends and brief memories from Pablo Honey. It�s sad, in a way, that the older material is ignored so much, but every band have to develop and move on. Radiohead make a better job of this than most.� It�s a telling sign tonight that �Creep�, supposedly the ultimate Radiohead tune, is just another song in a collection of equally perfect aural gifts to us all. Okay, it might get one of the best audience reactions of the evening and may be executed with such incredible vocal precision, but stand it next to �Electioneering�, �The Bends�, �Karma Police�, �Fake Plastic Trees� and �Climbing Up the Walls� and it�s just another gleaming gem in their ever increasing crown.� |
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It wasn�t so long ago that Radiohead were simply a sparkle in the eye of the pop. Hopeful young wannabes playing your average sized clubs and halls to a few drunk men and their dogs. Who could have known that a few years later they would have deconstructed and reassembled guitar music as we know it, and with such apparent ease.� To hell with your Pink Floyd or Genesis comparisons. Radiohead are the ones that will take us flying into the next century with style. And could you picture an ageing Thom Yorke as another Phil Collins? No, I don�t think so. James Berry. |
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