Hysterical and Useless

As a 90s alternative rock enthusiast and a great admirer of narrative, emotionally- charged poetry, I was naturally fascinated by Radiohead’s magnum opus OK Computer. Tinged with piercing electronics and screaming guitar leads, its grandiose, reigning instrumentation drew me in like nothing ever had before. But it was not until the dawn of the COVID-19 pandemic that I began to grapple with the album’s pervading anxiety, its themes of alienation, automation, and dissociation from reality, and its despairingly relevant sense of trepidation that had previously gone unappreciated. Despite being written in the seemingly centuries-ago of 1997, the longing, uncertain lyrics of Thom Yorke seemed to me all-too pertinent amidst the not-so-distant struggles of 2020.

The endless weeks shut away in the claustrophobic solitude of my home, essentially cut off from the outside world save for a sort of digital umbilical cord, left me questioning everything and everyone around me. Observing the world through the lens of social media made me painfully aware of the culture of self-indulgence that had become the norm in the modern age. I grew to despise it in all its manifestations, be it the rampant consumerism perpetrated by large corporations and social media ‘influencers’, or perhaps the over-sexualisation, hedonism, and blatant narcissism of my aimless, atomised generation. Yet even then, I felt so frighteningly part of it, and consequently, I grew sceptical of my friends and loved ones as I struggled to find meaning in the chaos happening around me. Too often, I felt more alienated and confused than I ever had before. Thus, it was only comforting to hear those same feelings and struggles echoed in Yorke’s voice who, twenty-five years ago, seemed to be dissociating and freaking out in much the same way that I was.

The year is 1995. A small alternative rock band from Oxfordshire, Great Britain has, seemingly overnight, exploded into one of the biggest bands in the world. With their unassuming, grunge-inspired debut Pablo Honey and the subsequent earth-shattering success of the The Bends, a twenty-seven-year-old Thom Yorke found himself essentially catatonic following several years of non-stop touring. Feelings of paranoia, anxiety, depression, and self-doubt crippled the Radiohead frontman’s mental health, so he turned to writing as a source of comfort. What emerged from those decidedly unromantic writing sessions was OK Computer, a record that looked inward to feelings of dissociation and anxiety, but also outward, to how unchecked consumerism and an overreliance on technology can lead to alienation and automation between an individual and the wider world.

In the documentary Meeting People is Easy, British filmmaker Grant Gee presents a distressing outlook on Radiohead’s touring life. While it certainly allows for an in-depth understanding of the creation and subsequent worldwide success of OK Computer, it also gives great insight into some of the anxieties and feelings of alienation that underpinned the record’s bleak subject matter. One scene, in particular, shows the band being heckled and forced out of a bar in Los Angeles. The people at the bar are depicted to be rather unfriendly and shallow individuals, and upon analysing their behaviours, it is easy to see where the band drew much of their inspiration for the characters in OK Computer. In many ways, they seem to be almost uncanny manifestations of the ‘androids’ Yorke sang of in Paranoid Android; the ‘kicking, squealing, Gucci little piggies’ and the ‘yuppies networking’ he so despised. Another scene depicts a making-of reel from the band’s music video for No Surprises, in which Yorke is encased in a glass chamber that repeatedly fills with water. The scene itself is quite graphic, with Yorke desperately gasping for air and even being reduced to tears on numerous occasions. In some ways, the making of the music video may be taken as a metaphor for the making of the album itself, and once again, it is easy to see where much of its feelings of despair and claustrophobia came from.

The album’s dramatic, yet effective storytelling is due in large part to the sheer abstraction of its lyrics and the universality of its themes and ideas. In the age of social media and automation, coupled with the pandemic-induced isolation of recent years, the overpowering sense of alienation explored in the album – one caused by life in a society defined by rampant consumerism, self-indulgence, and an over-reliance on technology – is hardly abnormal, and thus its conflicts are something that a wide demographic of modern-age individuals might be able to relate to. Its abstract lyrics also leave great room for interpretation, allowing many to find their own meaning in certain poetic expressions regardless of lyricist Thom Yorke’s original intentions. The meaning one draws from OK Computer’s complex themes may or may not fit into Radiohead’s artistic vision, but they still manage to reinforce and reconcile the general feelings of uncertainty and paranoia that are likely common to many who listen.

When I reacquainted myself with Radiohead’s discography in the winter of 2021 as a far happier, relaxed, and joyful individual, I was able to look back upon my melodramatic, over-serious past self with a sense of maturity. And when I got the chance to experience OK Computer once more, I found a sense of strength and comfort in it all. The agonising, anxiety-ridden lyrics I had once related to wholeheartedly now seemed mere remnants of a darkness long past; and stood above it all was a version of myself that had learned to stop worrying so much and instead take in life as it comes. It has since become my favourite album of all time, for it seemed to give me a voice in a time of great uncertainty, and thus it is a work of art that I harbour a deep, ineffable appreciation for.