One with the Freaks #1: Gravity Always WIns

Mock Column

Radiohead has a penchant for emotional poignancy.

Most subscribe to the impressionistic argument for why Radiohead remains relevant, the kind of argument that says more about who posits than what is posited. Despite the intentions such an argument debunks the complexity of Radiohead’s emotive power. This power lies not in the music itself, but (proceed with caution) in the experiences listeners associate with the music.

         Quality, to the vast majority, is lyrics telling some sort of narrative with a presumed naïveté/wisdom in the vernacular (catchy is quality). Songs are set to easily discernible melodies and rhythms in the minds of my peers: packaged goods. Being like most teenagers who feed off of existential dread, I flocked to the “heavier” genres; churning out dictums: “Hatred keeps me alive.”, ”Sometimes you know you want to f**k somebody up”, and “Don't think you’re having all the fun; you know me, I hate everyone.” I assumed the only valid expression in music was anger. Radiohead changed my outlook, the first dip into what had vaguely been branded “hipster” music by my peers who were busy listening to the latest rap and pop thinly veiled in country.  Then it happened, I started off small with “2+2=5”. My friend knew I would identify both lyrically and sonically with the song. Complementing my philosophical views the song (a tune to what can best be described as Orwellian apocalyptic apprehension) acted more as a release/restraint than a continuation of dread. YouTube presented the typical hunt for delving deeper into Radiohead by means of singles. This eventually turned to albums as I abandoned the growing trend of singles defining entire discographies via filesharing. Decreases in funds resulted from record collecting. To reconcile ravenous spending I took to work (Occupation: Grocery Clerk (bagger)). 

      Somewhere between the notes “Fake Plastic Trees” became my occupation.

The color coded mindless shopping displayed in the video replaced the reality of asking “Paper or plastic?” All canned goods were assumed to be monochromatic by food group. “Just” pertained to the twice daily arrival of an older gentleman and his mysterious packing of plastic in paper after the plastic has been packed and refusing groceries packed in paper originally (“You do it to yourself and that’s what really hurts.”) saving him the effort.  Collecting carts for hours, not dissimilar to the experimentation on “Meeting in the Aisle”, proved repetitive but never monotonous. Paycheck comes around and like the hidden track on “Motion Picture Soundtrack”, worth justifies wait.   

How to misinterpret where profit is derived: dollars & cents.                      From Hail to the Thief up until the announcement of In Rainbows, he was under the impression that album sales translated to artists’ salaries, and that getting a major label deal “is a safety net.” Hints that filesharing removes profit from the music industry floated above him, yet oblivious still he purchased out of respect for the artist. Surely Jonny Greenwood’s comment "Shame it's not a package with the artwork and all, but there you go." regarding the leak/early unofficial release of Hail to the Thief should clear things up for him, right? No, it would take the “pay what you want” method of distribution of In Rainbows, sanctioned by Radiohead themselves, for him to differentiate art from product, album from single, sense from cents. Such was my life during those years: paycheck translates to tickets.

I told myself if I did not go I would lose an “onceinalifetime” opportunity. My friend who infected/cured me with Radiohead accompanied. School meant even less as I tried not to think about it. I checked out, gathered him (after his rather intensive argument with his father), and the car was waiting. Blasting down Missouri’s beaten transportation network we watched for cracks in the pavement. Four hours of buildup and we arrived. It was to be expected that the fans would attach to some form idolatry for currency. Sixty bucks to go towards stopping human trafficking and they were unaware and we were less than amused. Finding a spot in the grass for the gap that Liars filled we watched appalled by the contrast between their craft and the crowd claiming (to this day) the former outweighed the reaction of the latter. Radiohead took the stage, although in retrospect said imagery is unfitting. They ran through their discography with Pablo Honey being the only absence. I am up in the clouds and I can’t come down. “Idioteque” kicks in. I am wading in and out unconsciously mirroring Thom Yorke, finally grounded after causing some “fan” to spill what the concert meant to her: social inebriation. She coughed up a vague insult. I did not say a word.   

Author's Note

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