Radiohead
Roseland Ballroom
New York
October 11, 2000

Navigating the queue outside of the Roseland Ballroom is no easy task, considering that it not only runs down the block, but around the corner, down the block again, around the corner again, and down the block once more. And that’s just the people who have, through some stroke of fortune, managed to obtain what has become the golden ticket of the year, for a show that sold out in a matter of minutes.

New York City is about to become New Yorke City, and every one of the expectant thousands crowded outside and inside the venue is well aware of it.

Kid A is in the shops. We've all heard it, already become familiar with its intricacies, but there is still no way to know what to expect. The most important rock band on the planet have undergone yet another transformation, to the point where the term "rock band" might not even apply anymore.

Inside, the crowd, which includes Matt Damon, the Beastie Boys' Adam Yauch and the ever-present Sean Lennon, fill the 3,000 capacity ballroom from back to front, waiting for a glimpse of just what sort of creature Radiohead have become.

And then, joined by a full horn-section, they are here, blasting through the biggest departure from their rock roots to date, Kid A's ambitiously stunning 'The National Anthem'. Frontman Thom Yorke delivers what borders on a psychotically intense performance from the start, growling and snarling into the mic as if he had just come off watching The Exorcist in a dark room with Tricky.

Then the song ends, Thom's spasms cease, and he retreats to a keyboard in the back, sparking the intro to 'Morning Bell'. The chaos subsides, the gentle subduing melody fills the room, and it's as if an entirely different band has taken the stage.

What follows is a set that features eight of Kid A's ten tracks, five unreleased songs, one B-side, and the remainder split between classics from The Bends and OK Computer.

There is little talk from the stage between songs, other than Yorke's oft-used intros, "This song goes like this" and "This is a rock song," although he does speak briefly about a few songs, even dedicating the piano-ballad 'Pyramid Song' (aka 'The Egyptian Song') to "all those people who have heard it on Napster".

The most intense moment comes during an adrenaline-injected version of 'Idioteque', which actually sees the vocalist dancing frantically to the rapid-fire beats driven by Jonny Greenwood at the programming console. Smoke rises, lights flash, and it's unlike anything you've seen before - from this band, at least.

Of the unreleased songs, the Blair-baiting 'You And Whose Army' draws the strongest response from the fans, who stare on in rapture as Yorke sits down at his piano and further displays his multi-instrumental talents. Hell, during 'Dollars And Cents' the man makes playing the tambourine look like a complex art form in itself. Take that Liam.

There is no more ideal way to close out the show than with the heavenly tones of 'Motion Picture Soundtrack'. Yorke sits at a keyboard in the centre of the stage, accompanied solely by Colin Greenwood on bowed upright bass, while Jonny does some fiddling with the programming set-up off to the side.

Finally, the band stood before the crowd, at rest at last, and Thom holds a sign high above his head. "Thank You", it reads simply. At that moment, every person present wished for the same thing: a sign of their own that they could raise in response, reading, just as simply, "No, Thank You."

Doug Levy

N.M.E.
21.10.00