Picture this: a legendary band whose haunting songs have eerily foreshadowed the turmoil of our rapidly changing world, vanishing from the spotlight for almost a decade, only to roar back with a ferocious energy that feels both apocalyptic and utterly alive. That's the essence of Radiohead's stunning return, and trust me, it's got fans and critics alike buzzing with a mix of nostalgia and fresh intrigue. But here's where it gets controversial – are they prophets of doom, or just masterful storytellers riding the waves of coincidence? Stick around, because this reunion isn't just about music; it's a mirror to our chaotic times.
It's been nearly 10 years since Radiohead dropped a new studio album, and over seven since they graced a stage, leaving their devoted followers in a state of prolonged anticipation. During this hiatus, the world seemed to accelerate toward the dystopian futures their lyrics have long warned us about – think pandemics spread by animals, conflicts spilling across borders, makeshift bomb shelters, relentless storms, crumbling skies, and infrastructure falling apart. These themes, woven into the poetic angst of frontman Thom Yorke, make their songs feel like eerie predictions. For newcomers, it's like Yorke is channeling the anxieties of a generation worried about technology's breakneck pace and society's fragility, all set to mind-bending melodies that stick with you.
Yorke's reputation as a visionary has only grown in their absence, amplified by the band's aura of mystery. Yet, while some hail him as a genius (though opinions remain divided, often swayed more by political debates than pure musical prowess), he's far from the only standout in Radiohead's lineup. Take their recent ventures: Yorke has collaborated brilliantly with bandmate Jonny Greenwood in the more experimental trio The Smile, producing tracks that push boundaries with a looser, freer vibe. But fans have been yearning for the full quintet to reunite, waiting what feels like an eternity – akin to geological epochs in rock 'n' roll history.
And this is the part most people miss – without fanfare, new music to promote (as far as we know), or any grand announcement, Radiohead has slipped back into the spotlight for brief residencies in select European cities. Performing 'in the round' – meaning the stage setup allows the audience to surround them, creating an intimate yet expansive feel – they position themselves behind a delicate projection screen that initially appears protective, like a veil against the world. But as the night unfolds, it's clear no such shield is necessary. This comeback is robust, not tentative, bursting with vitality.
They kick things off with 'Let Down,' a deep cut from their iconic 1997 album 'OK Computer,' long adored by fans but recently revived by Gen Z teens on TikTok, turning it into their closest hit of this century. The song's gorgeous, ethereal quality – with Yorke's vocals soaring like a feather in the wind and his self-deprecating humor poking fun at his own melancholic tendencies (remind you of Kafka's witty introspection?) – blends doubt with a spark of hope, passed down from Generation X to the younger crowd. Live, this track gains immense power from an amplified rhythm section, setting a pulsating tone for the evening. While the higher frequencies sometimes echo in the vast arena, drummer Phil Selway, percussionist Clive Deamer, and bassist Colin Greenwood (Jonny's brother) deliver a thunderous force on mid- to late-career songs like '2 + 2 = 5,' 'Bloom,' and 'Ful Stop.'
Jonny Greenwood has always been Radiohead's hidden powerhouse – polite offstage, like offering you a cup of tea, but wielding his bass with a range from soulful tenderness to raw intensity. His lines have guided listeners through the band's darkest, most challenging studio works, and selections from 'Kid A,' such as 'Everything in Its Right Place' and 'Idioteque,' showcase their evolution over 25 years: from frigid, experimental shocks to upbeat, dance-floor anthems that get even the upper balcony seats bouncing. By '15 Step,' the crowd is moving to those intricate drum beats, with Yorke reminding us that 'it comes to us all' – perhaps aging, or more poignantly, mortality. At 56, Yorke's vitality shines through as he dances with the agility of a seasoned performer, his grey beard evoking a weathered sailor navigating the waves of 'The National Anthem,' complete with that legendary bassline he penned as a teenager.
Yorke has often glanced at the legacies of icons like Mick Jagger, wary of bands that lose their edge in repetition. But Radiohead avoids that trap here, exuding innovation over stagnation. Their fanbase, known for its intense loyalty and quirky tastes, might grumble about fewer selections from albums like 'A Moon Shaped Pool' or 'The Bends.' Yet, 'Fake Plastic Trees,' an early fan favorite, explodes with explosive energy, far eclipsing its studio version.
In past performances, Radiohead seemed relieved to escape studio pressures that once nearly derailed them compositionally. Tonight's vigor might signal something new, but the joy is palpable for anyone who's cherished this band – it's not merely entertaining; it's exhilarating. Yorke keeps banter minimal, offering only a 'gracias,' but critics argue he should speak out more vocally on pressing issues. This sparks debate: some admire his restraint, remembering the anxious young man alarmed by rapid technological progress in the early internet era, while others wish for louder activism, especially given controversies like their decision not to perform in Israel amid political tensions. Is Yorke a principled voice or someone opting for silence in a noisy world? And this is the part most people miss – does his prophetic songwriting make him the ideal guide for our 'terminal velocity' society, or is it all just artistic coincidence?
Here's the setlist from that electrifying opening night, a journey through their catalog that highlights their enduring relevance:
Let Down
2 + 2 = 5
Sit Down. Stand Up
Bloom
Lucky
Ful Stop
The Gloaming
Myxomatosis
No Surprises
Videotape
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
Everything in Its Right Place
15 Step
The National Anthem
Daydreaming
A Wolf at the Door
Bodysnatchers
Idioteque
Encore
Fake Plastic Trees
Subterranean Homesick Alien
Paranoid Android
How to Disappear Completely
You and Whose Army?
There There
Karma Police
So, what do you think? Is Radiohead's return a celebration of musical genius, or a reminder of unresolved controversies? Do Yorke's lyrics still resonate with you in today's world, or have they been overstated? Share your opinions in the comments – I'd love to hear if you agree, disagree, or have a fresh take on why this band matters now more than ever!
