nazwanje
// MTV
july 2003
ÐÀÄÈÎÕÅÄ @ MTV.com èþëü_2003
by Jon Wiederhorn, with reporting by MTV Europe
Sometimes it's hard to tell when Radiohead's opinionated frontman Thom
Yorke is being serious and when he's — as the English say — taking the
piss.
Although he's usually polite and affable in conversation, occasionally
Yorke will roll his eyes if he doesn't agree with you, then mock you
by saying what he thinks you want to hear. Other times he makes absurd
comments to see what kind of reaction he can get. Case in point: During
a recent interview in London, the shy, politically minded vegan made
some pretty uncharacteristic statements when talking about the time
the band spent in Los Angeles working on its new album, Hail to the
Thief.
"We felt really glamorous being in Hollywood," he began with
a smirk. "We went to glamorous parties, and we had matching Minis
with Union Jacks. I chose the Range Rover because it was the most polluting
car I could find — 4.6 liters of pure gluttony. Disgusting."
For Yorke, who has been known to change topics mid-conversation or
even walk out of interviews when things aren't going well, being weird,
contrary or aloof is a way to avoid having to be too analytical about
his personal life and work. He'll happily discuss the state of the world,
history and literature, but get too close to the emotional core and
he'll retreat into a shell of sarcasm.
"I'm just enjoying the fact that I haven't been hit by a car yet
and I'm still doing this," he said when asked about the benefits
of stardom. "It's not easy. If you crack up, then that's it. And
it's pretty easy to crack up because suddenly people start talking to
you like you're from another planet and you just think that's normal.
I really worry about other people like Coldplay and the Strokes, 'cause
the sort of success they've had really screws with your head. It's like,
what do you do next?"
For 14 years, Radiohead — Yorke, guitarist Ed O'Brien, guitarist Jonny
Greenwood, his brother and bassist Colin and drummer Phil Selway — have
been consumed with the question of what to do next. The need to push
boundaries has tested their friendship, their musicianship and their
very sanity as they've evolved from a green Britpop band into one of
the most creative, provocative and perverse musical outfits.
Radiohead formed in 1988 when the bandmembers were all students at
Oxford University. By 1992 when they released their debut EP, Drill,
they were a young, promising act with a few decent songs. Then came
the bonfire hit "Creep," a tune that blended the loud/soft
dynamics of bands like Nirvana with the sentimentality of the Smiths.
The song surfaced in 1993 on the group's hit-and-miss debut album, Pablo
Honey, and in no time it was everywhere, catapulting Radiohead to stardom
and leaving them struggling to avoid one-hit-wonder syndrome.
------------
They proved themselves in 1995 with The Bends, an anguished amalgam
of atmospheric pop and multi-textured rock that featured the singles
"Fake Plastic Trees," "Just" and the wonderfully
skewed "My Iron Lung," which seesawed between melancholy drifting
and disjointed clawing.
Lots of bands say they want to reinvent themselves with every release.
Radiohead have actually done so. When they were praised for being a
savvy band that specialized in dissonant guitar embellishments, they
got softer, atmospheric and more epic with 1997's OK Computer. Then
they pulled a 180 with 2000's Kid A and 2001's Amnesiac, both of which
downplayed organic instrumentation and accessible melodic structure
in favor of computerized music, challenging arrangements and a clinical
vibe.
Now, after three discs that were labored over in the studio, the band
has banged out Hail to the Thief, a record that was intentionally recorded
in a mere two weeks and is composed of melancholy, sample-flecked melodies
that were road-tested months before they were taken into the studio.
"The last two studio records [Kid A and Amnesiac] were a real
headache," Yorke said, thumbing the stubble on his angular chin.
"We had spent so much time looking at computers and grids, we were
like, 'That's enough. We can't do that anymore.' This time, we used
computers, but they had to actually be in the room with all the gear.
So everything was about performance, like staging a play."
In all likelihood, Radiohead didn't really willfully attack the environment
by driving flashy gas-guzzling cars when they were making Hail to the
Thief, but the vibe and celebrity culture of the West Coast certainly
had an effect on them. The music on Hail to the Thief is far less sterile
and claustrophobic than the band's last two discs. Some songs are colored
with electronic samples, but most abound with evocative guitar lines
and real drums, and tracks like "There There" and "Go
to Sleep" mark a return to the gloomy melodic pop dynamics of OK
Computer.
>> "It was like eating too much chocolate or something..."
"It was like a beach vacation," Yorke said of Radiohead's
time working on the album in L.A. "We did everything we weren't
supposed to do, and we felt kind of sick afterwards. It was like eating
too much chocolate or something. It didn't feel like the world was going
to end, so we wanted to make the sort of sounds that get you up in the
morning and [that] sort of have a positive energy to them. It was the
most fun we've ever had in the studio."
As much as the California breezes brightened the bandmembers' moods,
it didn't color Yorke's lyrics, which were written in the politically
tense months after 9-11. On "The Gloaming" he sings, "Genie,
let out of the bottle /It is now the witching hour/ Murderers, you're
murderers/ We are not the same as you," and in "I Will"
he croons, "I will lay me down in a bunker underground."
There's an amazing scene in the 1999 Radiohead documentary "Meeting
People Is Easy" in which Yorke is on set for the "No Surprises"
video and there's a close-up of his head submerged in a tank of water.
He holds his breath until his lungs ache and then he holds it some more.
When he feels like his chest cavity is about to burst, he pulls a cord.
The water immediately flushes from the tank, and Yorke is left gasping,
coughing and sputtering with an expression of complete terror on his
face. Then the tank is refilled and he does another take. And another.
Even when he's not nearly drowning himself, it's no secret that Yorke
is an intense, dedicated guy, someone who has sacrificed relationships
and emotional stability to present his musical vision. Somewhere along
the line, however, he started to forget why he formed the band in the
first place. Songwriting came to be a chore. The more detached he became,
the more robotic his studio vocals on Kid A and Amnesiac began to sound.
Then, just when he was beginning to feel hopeless, he had a revelation.
As the band toured for Amnesiac, Yorke immersed himself in his singing
to escape from the pressure of stardom, and rediscovered the power of
song.
"It became the reason I was doing things," he said, rubbing
his eyes with his palms. "It was the thing that kept me sane. So
now music is a spiritual thing for me again and it hadn't been for a
long time. It had been this thing that I had to do. I used to watch
Michael Stipe [of R.E.M.] when we toured with him years ago, and you
could tell every night it was spiritual for him. Not spiritual like
'I'm communicating with God,' just spiritual in the sense that 'This
is why I'm here.' Not to go to the supermarket. Not to sign your autograph.
I'm here to sing these songs."
Before 2001, Yorke's entire life was overwhelmed by Radiohead. As much
as he'd try to escape by taking vacations, reading, supporting political
causes or socializing with friends, the specter of the band loomed over
his head. Then everything changed. On February 6 of that year, his girlfriend
Rachel gave birth to their first child, Noah, and suddenly Yorke didn't
have time to be so self-involved. Today, the singer would probably rather
talk about his son than himself, and he's bemused by the fact that he's
gained happiness by becoming the very thing he used to hate.
"Oh, God, I couldn't stand new fathers who went on and on about
their kids," Yorke said. "I would be so bored. I'd just tune
out while they talked and go, 'Oh, yeah, oh, really?' But it was a good
thing for me to become a father because I lightened up. You cease to
be the center of the world and that's good. And being a father helped
make me get back into music. My son definitely plays a major role in
me doing this and I want him to know that someday."
Yorke said that several songs on Hail to the Thief make reference to
children's stories, and the video for "There There," which
takes place in the woods and ends with Yorke turning into a tree, was
modeled after some of the spooky fairy tales Yorke has read to his kid.
For now, Noah is too young to understand the significance of the video.
All he knows is that his dad makes music. And like most 2-year-olds,
he manipulates his parents like Tony Hawk controls a skateboard.
"Whenever I go and play the piano, he tells me to stop,"
Yorke said, cracking a smile, "and I do." He thinks for a
moment. "Then again, that's probably not such a good thing."
