Radiohead
Hammerstein Ballroom
New York
December 19, 1997
With a large, yellow guitar crucified on his slant, baggy-pantsed frame, Radiohead leader Thom Yorke opened his arms to the New York City crowd, welcoming them into his world.
Radiohead are an awesome live band. Jonny and Colin Greenwood just might be the most synchronized stringmen in the galaxy. And Yorke, a small spectacle of a man with gigantic, passionate vocals, is a compelling frontman. Simply put, Radiohead is a marvel.
It's television that sucks.
"We're off the air," Yorke poked, impishly smirking at the crowded audience beneath him at the Hammerstein Ballroom. Radiohead, 1997's media and musical darlings, had just blown through more than 20 songs for an internationally broadcast MTV-special Friday. Finally, it appeared, the cameras had gone home. Live at the10 Spot was dead again. It was the first time, it seemed, that Yorke felt comfortable acknowledging the audience -- the real, live concert audience.
"And this," he chuckled, scratching his bed-headed hair and kicking his left leg furiously, "Is dedicated to my screaming hangover."
In essence, Radiohead's performance that night had all the makings of a drunken, Orwellian tragedy. Expensive equipment littered the Hammerstein floor. A swing crane swooped above the crowd, carrying a curiously taunting camera. Men in flannel shirts, hooked into special headsets and blinking technology, roamed the ballroom. Space-aged paraphernalia was scattered everywhere.
And beholding Radiohead's musical landscape of media criticism and anthems of loneliness and paranoia was America -- a television audience looking for something to support the gallons of critical ink dedicated this year to OK Computer, the band's third album. Unfortunately, that outside world spoiled the energy Radiohead have become so fabled for providing.
The glossy stability of the televised evening stole Radiohead's penchant for raw, from-the-hip energy, reducing the performance to the size of a screen. Everything seemed orchestrated -- the perfect lighting, the flawless turnover, the floor crowd pandering to the crane-cam. While none of these are especially bad, it seemed fake against the backdrop of media hype. And with R.E.M.'s frontman Michael Stipe perched at stage-left, cameras dangling to and fro and a sea of shiny laminates swimming about, there was plenty of media hype.
And Radiohead's beautifully orchestrated live sound - we're talking flawless - fell victim to it. The night's performance was never meant to be a concert. It was meant to be a spectacle. A made-for-television spectacle. Not unlike Cops.
And that's unfortunate, considering the gigantic, 24-song set list, the towering, glittery light show and the band's construct of perfection. As the Mac-processed voice from "Fitter, Happier" filtered into the crowd, it became clear the evening would carry some sort of space-aged theme. Too bad it had more to do with satellites than alien aircraft. OK's "Airbag" followed, as Greenwood and fellow guitarist Ed O'Brien crunched out a stream of riffs, sifting through an array of effects pedals and personalized tweaks. An ocean of aqua lights bathed the stage, as a thick, artificial fog enveloped the drum riser.
"Karma Police" was next, showcasing O'Brien's shrill backup vocals. "Exit Music (For A Film)" was gorgeous, though the impeccable coordination of string effects sounded too synthetic.
On "Subterranean Homesick Alien," Yorke straddled a keyboard, allowing the rest of the band to take center stage and showcase their skills. But there was a lot for the eyes to see during the performance and, often, the performers took second stage to the storm of colorful lights, the slick, silvery fog and the mural of aural noise. A glaring set of lavender house lights remained on for most of the show, stealing from the rainbow gel lights scaffolded above the stage. Only the strobes remained clearly visible.
Numerous remarks were made about Japanese television during "My Iron Lung," when the strobes were most relentless. "Planet Telex" and "Bullet Proof ... I Wish I Was" were equally sonic, each song delivering tranquil textures and sounds. "Street Spirit" was just as haunting. But the scariest element of the night was the irony. Radiohead's themes of commercial art clashed with the idea of the evening -- a colorful palate of illusions and volume designed for a 24-inch eye. With phrases such as "Prozac painkillers" and "alien craft" and themes such as computer-takeover or technological dependency, Radiohead's music has always begged the question: "What are we heading toward?"
For televised live rock shows, the answer remains unclear. For Radiohead the answer is perfection. The dark lights impregnated Colin Greenwood's popping bass lines, while the hazy oranges and placid aquamarines chipped into Yorke's breathy, comfortable whine. Even the audience debris was secondary - the only time anything hit its intended target - a T-shirt nailed the swooping crane camera, forcing it to shake the obstruction - there was a commercial running.
So, if you're going by MTV's standards, it really didn't happen.
"The cameras were annoying," said Noreen Hyde, 24, of Manhattan, N.Y. "When you wanted to look at someone on the stage, like the lead singer, you couldn't - there were blinking camera lights flying across the stage... And the cameramen on the stage killed it, too," she continued. "They looked like bad stagehands... It looked like a television studio up there."
However, Eric Kaniel, 27, of Bridgeport, Conn., didn't mind the floor crew and tech operators. In fact, he said, it made Radiohead's electronic tranquility that much more interesting. "That's why a band like Radiohead does these sort of things," he said, grasping a fresh OK Computer T-shirt and an MTV logo poster that he ripped from the lobby wall. "Because they can. They sing about technology and abandonment, and they embrace it to make themselves sound perfect. They are a flawless rock 'n' roll band."
After 23 flawless songs and an encore, Radiohead returned to the stage to perform "The Tourist," the mesmerizing final track from OK Computer. Just like they did during their recent tour, there would be no live performance of "Creep" or "High And Dry," the tunes for which Radiohead are most popularly known. Instead, the band chose the song with the line, "Sometimes I get overcharged/ That's when you see sparks."
Although there were plenty of sparks coming from Radiohead on this evening, the allure of canned laughter diluted them.
Yorke and Radiohead are better off in videos and small clubs - where they can embrace the art and intimacies their songs exhibit. Otherwise, a camera might catch them smiling.
And Yorke, himself, wouldn't let that happen.
-Jon Vena Addicted To Noise
23.12.97