A few years ago, Thom Yorke was dreaming about a scarey Irish gig. In the course of it, the River Liffey turned into a muddy, stinking tide. So he woke up and did the sensible thing. He wrote a song about it.

Tonight then, he's in a large tent at Punchestown, singing that song. 'How To Disappear Completely...' sounds terrific and the 10,000 or so punters are in joyous accord. Even though their new album has only been out for a week, they are primed for the mention of their local waterway in the lyrics, and so there's a mighty cheer for the old Liffey and a greater one for the man who wrote the song.

"Bet you're confused now, ain't you?" he jests. Thom is in lovely form. Mind you, it is his birthday (October 7), and the audience have already sang him a tribute. In return, he's invited us all back to his place for an after-show party. Wherever that is.

So much for the story that the new Radiohead tour is a bit mopey.

We'd also been led to believe that the new record, Kid A is relayed in some imperious, uncaring style. In fact, the new tracks are thoughtfully spliced into the set. We may start with the daunting rattle of 'The National Anthem', but presently the mangled bodywork of 'Airbag' reminds us that Radiohead were wise to the Mo' Wax aesthetic some time ago.

Actually, it's the older material that seems out of place. 'My Iron Lung' is a throwback to the days when Nirvana lumbered over the horizon. Even 'Just', a rare reference to The Bends, is chiefly interesting as a measure of how far this band have advanced.

So, 'Paranoid Android', a track that was once considered the height of weird pop ambition, is now an arms-aloft singathon. The "rain down" section prompts a great outpouring of compassion that's totally at odds to the song. Maybe that's why it works so well.

The other guys are quietly holding the game together. Colin, shorn and bespectacled, plays his enormo bass line at the end of 'Exit Music' and Ed does the peculiar harmonies throughout. Pleasingly, Jonny Greenwood hasn't been cramped by the new agenda. He's twitching from guitar to keyboards to sundry other electronic fittings. The old fringe is routinely tossed and the sounds he emits are of course barmy.

Complaints, we'll make a few. Bringing a huge tent to Ireland in October is a bit ambitious, and by ten at night, a few frails souls were limping with cold, dreading the long haul back to Dublin city. Next time, we'll put up with The Point, thanks. And while the No Logo policy is a worthy one, dispensing with cheesey sponsors, it somehow jars that you have to pay £16 for a T-shirt with Radiohead's own name on the front, and a stiff £30 for a hooded sweat shirt. Oh well.

Near the end, Thom is lilting his way across 'Motion Picture Soundtrack', his heart all busted and bruised. There's an emotional tone in there that no other music has quite managed to relate, but you instantly recognise that this is how it feels to stand in the muddy tide of 2000, full of dread and frustration. Radiohead are still keeping that critical frequency open.

-Stuart Bailie

Oh Yeah
10.10.00