Radiohead
Valencia, Spain, August 4, 2002
Thom Yorke's never been much of a comedian but his exhortation to the Spanish
audience is particularly trite. "Muchas gracias... patatas fritas, no fish" he mumbles,
showcasing the linguistic genius shared by most of his countrymen. The audience
overlooks the cheap pokes at their language however: Benicasim is one of
Radiohead's
favourite festivals and a regular testing ground for the band when they've got some
new tunes in the bag. An attendance here by the Oxford outfit is thus a guaranteed
sell-out and a lucky bag for fans who manage to get into the grounds.
And so it was tonight. Yorke's music was a lot better than his Spanish. Edge of
stage, the tanned front-man looked vicious, molesting his mike to squeeze the good
out of every word. The over-load of electronic gadgetry the band took with them
was too much for the Benicasim stage however and the two resulting sound black-outs
were probably the minimum trouble we could have expected during the set.
Opening with The National Anthem, the band went right into Morning Bell, and then
Lucky. Radiohead's heart was in it, for sure, but it wasn't until Karma Police that
the crowd joined in. Perhaps it was the illegibility and pure sonic-electronic indulgence
of the first numbers (as one local newspaper would put it the following day "singing
songs only they understand") or the overwhelmingly Spanish-French crowd expecting
the rock staples which made Radiohead a big thing in these parts. The band lounging
about earlier, unnoticed, in the huge easy-electronica "Chill Out" tent should have
given a clue or two of what was to be expected. Dollars and Cents, Exit Music for
a Film and Punch Up at a Wedding passed in a similar haze of crowd confusion and
band well-meaningness. There's something existential maybe about Yorke's writing
and performance these days, like he's tried to mine the soul and find some explanations
to the existence of rock'n'roll. It's as if the lead singer feels himself free,
but free in a prison of its own musicality, trying every damn instrumental and electronic
fusion in an attempt to break out to eventual satisfaction and confidence in the
music it makes.
The curiously country rock sway and then raw guitars on Exit Music... was a case
in point. Punch Up at a Wedding rolled by softly and smoothly as the upright piano
is rolled on stage for Yorke. Sound problems unfortunately silenced the cello during
this number, leaving a pissed off Yorke to grunt "shut the fucking thing up" at
the hapless player gone acoustic. Punching the keys, Yorke continued, head bobbing
feverishly, shaking as he pushed out the lyrics. It was half two in the morning
however, and many festival goers, this writer included, found themselves almost
running out of patience watching the man exorcising his demons. May we hope he
manages to sink a few of them in some of the tunes going in to the album the band
is currently recording in Los Angeles.
It was the final four songs that took this sea-side show to the good time. Quite
uncharacteristically, a hip-swivelling Yorke gestured to the crowd for a clap-along.
His own feverish clapping and manic-idiotic smile lent the whole affair the air
of a psychotherapy session for the little man from Oxford. But this was Fake Plastic
Trees after all, a brilliant version of it too. Just followed the crowd pleaser,
before an even bigger hit arrived, Paranoid Android. The encore number was Everything
In Its Right Place, taking the show back to the territory in which it started.
The encore saw Johnny Greenwood takes up a snare and a tom drum at the front of
stage, his brother doing the same on the other side of Yorke before the two go back
to giving it loads of guitar on the promising second half to the song. It was an
unsettling mish-mash of electronica and rock that constituted this set. Yorke finishes
the affair jumping about with the crowd, clapping manically, as if he's maybe making
up for the slight monotony of his set in several thousand eyes about the place,
wondering perhaps if he has to, or if he's won the day. Radiohead may have nothing to
prove. However with this electro stuff they sure can cut it, do it, push the envelope
but can they
remain relevant?
