Singing in the rain with Radiohead

Radiohead
South Park
Oxford
July 7, 2001

Rating: 4/5

As rain drizzles from the thick, grey skies over Oxford, wags might suggest that unseasonally miserable weather is what you'd expect at a Radiohead show. Anyone familiar with their past two albums, Kid A and Amnesiac, would be hard-pressed to associate those delicate, cerebral constructions with anything approaching a party atmosphere. But for their sole UK date this year, they have thrown a hometown mini-festival (Beck, Supergrass and Sigur Ros support) and the mood is celebratory.

Rightly or wrongly, the impression given by the recent records is of frontman Thom Yorke's icy intellect calling the shots. But as the songs venture outside, the chemistry between all five members is blindingly apparent. Radiohead have always ranged far across their back catalogue and they are now able to reconfigure completely depending on the demands of the song. Thus for old hit "My Iron Lung" they are as muscular a rock band as you could wish for, while the electronic mantra "Everything In Its Right Place" sees them transform into an improvisational sound system, with guitarists Jonny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien shedding their six-strings to hunch down over effects boxes and samplers. Songs that would appear to defy live performance are reinvented by individual flourishes: Colin Greenwood jolts "Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box" into quivering life with a distorted bassline, and Phil Selway's kinetic drums free "Idioteque" from its rigid techno moorings.

Yorke, meanwhile, projects a warmth that belies his frosty public persona. Not that he takes the opportunity for any triumphal local boy monologues - apart from an obtuse gag about trying to find a parking space there's no mention of Oxford at all - but he is in fine form. He cracks jokes, adopts comedy accents and dances like he's only just discovered how: his electro-shock boogaloo during "Idioteque" is a sight to behold.

Conservative fans are wooed by a cannily constructed setlist that juxtaposes tricky new material with old favourites: the emotional force of "Lucky" (the stadium power ballad it's OK to like) or "Fake Plastic Trees" is thankfully not something Radiohead are prepared to abandon. True, the band's empathy with the audience wobbles occasionally. The combination of the drab "How To Disappear Completely" and the sudden onset of a downpour is not an uplifting one, and their persistent attachment to old b-side "Talk Show Host" is not universally shared. However, such indulgences are easily forgiven, because Radiohead understand how to move a crowd. Just as rain seems to have stopped play, they return for an inspired third encore with a rare airing of debut hit "Creep". It seals two hours in which they are experimental entertainers, avant-garde showmen - a remarkable balancing act.

Dorian Lynskey

The Guardian
09.07.01