There was a reason that Radiohead's last two albums, Kid A and the recently released Amnesiac, were a mystery. Until the North American debut of its long-awaited tour at the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion in The Woodlands, the ambient electronica built for a science-fiction love story lacked visual accompaniment.
Like trying to watch a movie without sound or musical theater without an orchestra, listening to Radiohead's thick layers of strings over synth and wails without seeing how they're produced is a half-empty experience.
Monday at The Woodlands it suddenly came into focus.
Songs that once felt confusing or frustrating on disc pulsated to life. The arc of Radiohead's music suddenly had a vitality and necessity like anything Pink Floyd ever did. The English band - once mistaken for a grunge group - no longer builds songs and singles. It builds albums with stories, cliffhangers and sequels.
The crowd of slightly more than 17,000 at the sold-out show wasn't necessarily looking for clarity. Many were just hoping for a live experience matching the heavily decorated and well-thought-out melodies of Kid A and Amnesiac. They got it and more.
Through two hours and 22 songs, Radiohead offered a discourse on how its more recent, eclectic rock progresses from past radio-accessible hits like "Karma Police" and "Fake Plastic Trees". Then it went one step further, tearing down the curtain for a look at how music for computers in love can be made primarily on a basic rock set-up of guitar, bass and drum.
The show was a coming-out party for Thom Yorke, the delicate, boyish face behind the most beautiful modern-rock swoon since Bryan Ferry and Morrissey. Staring at the crowd he had the toothy, helpless grin of a young boy about to sit on Santa Claus' lap for the first time. His lidless eyes and muscle-maligned frame are countered by a voice that climbs scales without effort.
On earlier tours, Yorke didn't always appear to enjoy his vocal therapy. Now playful and engaging, he's the next best hope for pasty-skinned everymen with dreams of hunkiness.
Joined by the rest of Radiohead - guitarists Ed O'Brien and Jonny Greenwood, bassist Colin Greenwood and drummer Phil Selway - the casualness was a contrast to the music. A relatively inexpensive stage of fluorescent office lighting, foil and colorful icicle lights gave no hint of the complex concepts about to be set to tune.
Opening with the simple seven-note bass loop and echoes of "The National Anthem", Radiohead went to work giving its android a heart. They chose the more rigid "Morning Bell" from Kid A over the over-emotive second scoring from Amnesiac (the only song on both albums), allowing Yorke to find a middle ground while sitting at the keyboard.
One of the finest compliments a band can be given about its performance is that hits weren't necessary to make it complete. Radiohead bypassed three of its biggest early favorites on opening night - the flannel feedback of "Creep" and ballads "High and Dry" and "Fake Plastic Trees" - and no one was worse off for it.
Instead, the group attached itself to lesser-known early gems from its 1998 The Bends album, including the title track and "My Iron Lung". The songs empowered Yorke with a swagger and growl of familiar comfort at the mike. The structure and traditional guitar of these tracks, however, were like a space-age Speak N' Spell compared to the free-form of new material.
Radiohead found no space for any of the songs from its 8 year-old debut album Pablo Honey. Even "Bones" and "Street Spirit", the other two attempts from The Bends, didn't quite mesh. The true jumpoff point centered on a medley of songs by the group's most widespread masterpiece, 1997's OK Computer.
The dividing line between the Radiohead that followed the songwriting rules and the band that fell into its own subconscious, OK Computer's serenade started with Yorke and an acoustic guitar on "Exit Music (For a Film)". The accompaniment to a junkie on a high, the song slowly builds: First it's Jonny Greenwood's organ joining on the bridge, followed by synthetic voices on the second verse and culminating in a psychedelic slide guitar and Selway's snare beats on the chorus.
The song brought a high only controlled by the xylophone-tapped lullaby of "No Surprises" and military strikes of "Karma Police". Four years since they were originally released there are still few songs that have the emotive labyrinth of any of them.
Interpolating the old with the new, it's much easier to see the evolution of Radiohead's current Amnesiac. New single "Knives Out" is reminiscent of the post-punk guitar detachment of the Cure and the Smiths while "Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box" is self-descriptive. The hollow metal beat and waves of motion might be what the world sounds like to pilchards trapped inside a can.
Yorke toyed with the crowd through the entire show, mimicking its effusiveness and directing its applause like an orchestra conductor when at the piano. But when he belted out the "Sardine" chorus, "I'm a reasonable man. Get off my case," he appeared dead serious.
It's a deserved response to those who felt Radiohead had steered its career into an ether. After seeing the live show, it's clear the group is just fine. Audience members unwilling to extend their ears a bit toward the new and uncomfortable are the lost ones.
-Michael D. Clark
Houston Chronicle
20.06.01