/reader

 

From one of the best seats in the entire arena, I watched my favourite band for the fourth time. Within minutes, I knew this would be my all-time favourite gig.

Obviously, skip this if you don’t appreciate Radiohead; I wrote it for myself and other fans. And if the band’s touring history prompts you to message me about Israel’s apartheid against Palestinians, note that I reference this in the footnotes.

Last year, we got together to rehearse, just for the hell of it. After a seven year pause, it felt really good to play the songs again and reconnect with a musical identity that has become lodged deep inside all five of us. It also made us want to play some shows together, so we hope you can make it to one of the upcoming dates. For now, it will just be these ones but who knows where this will all lead.

When these somewhat surprising residencies were announced, I pledged that whatever it took, I would be there. To thwart touts, an initial lottery was announced, and as the results arrived, it seemed that most friends were getting rejection emails. I feared the worst, but with minutes to go, Geri received a code. We agreed (along with friends Jon and Leigh) that if all we could get was pricey VIP tickets, we’d stump up without regret.

As it turned out, we secured front-row seats, and I’d been buzzing for two months. But, me being me, I worried about everything: some people had their orders cancelled; would ours be ok? Would the band bring enough energy? Would Thom be grumpy?^[1] And what about the talk of boycotts and threats of protests?^[2]

I need not have worried. So here are two reasons why these shows feel different.

Firstly, they’re different for me because I care about this band far more than I used to (and I always cared a lot) because in recent years I’ve come to lean on them almost like tutors as I’ve worked to improve my approach to writing and producing music. Books like Brad Osborn’s mind-frazzlingly academic Everything In Its Right Place and video breakdowns from YouTubers like Ixi have taken me deep into the finer details, and I’ve started to appreciate their music at increasingly macro levels. So whilst I always loved these songs, I wasn’t sure why. Now, I find myself in that slightly embarrassing position of talking a bit too much about Radiohead — I’ve transcended to superfan status. And that’s OK, because it’s never wrong to move closer to what you love.

And secondly, the shows are different for everyone because we’re used to a certain kind of format. I’ve seen Radiohead three times previously: Glastonbury 1997, Nottingham 2003, and Manchester 2017. In each case, they were very far away — nice and safe, with a cavernous stage dead-ending the arena, as is the norm. The typical big rock show. For this tour, they’re in the round: a small circular stage in the middle of the arena.^[3]

Once the cage that supports the video screens lifts, it’s just them and their instruments — exposed, surrounded. The setup is similar to the From The Basement sessions, except that they’re facing not each other, but us. It serves to make an enormous arena show feel more intimate, because you can always see your fellow audience members behind the band — everyone swept up into something special together. I know that for some on the floor it’s been occasionally frustrating when band members are out of sight (they do move around, though), but for any of us in seats (and friends in the nosebleeds agree), it’s thrillingly perfect, even if the entire band is rarely in view at once.

Our front row seats elevated us to stage level, and closest to Jonny and Thom’s primary stations, so when the band tore into something boisterous like Bodysnatchers or Optimistic and I’d see them giving their all in this improbable format, my brain would scream SIMON, THAT’S FUCKING RADIOHEAD! because I was in disbelief at the way it was happening. It was visceral and breathtaking in a way that no other big-show format is. I’ll also add that this is the first time I’ve ever been to a gig in London that wasn’t ruined by idiots talking throughout. I know we were seated, but I could see the standing punters clearly and I think all 20,000 people were utterly captivated.

I’d monitored emerging setlist patterns and the approximate A/B variants Radiohead are working with. 2 + 2 = 5, EIIRP, Weird Fishes/Arpeggi, Paranoid Android and Let Down (the new Creep, thanks to TikTok) are staples, whilst others tend to appear on alternate evenings. I was right to expect several of my favourites such as Nude, Reckoner, Pyramid Song, and The Daily Mail.

My absolute favourite moments were, possibly in order: being possessed by the intertwining offset grooves of Weird Fishes, the pin-drop silence during Nude, a blistering Bodysnatchers, Jonny doing his Paranoid Android violence right in front of me, and every single shiver-inducing moment of Exit Music (For a Film).

Some songs remind us what a powerful, tight garage rock band they were and still can be: the energy they bring to Jigsaw, Bodysnatchers, and Optimistic is genuinely exciting, especially with this stage format. And they seem to be — in a Radiohead kind of way — enjoying themselves and rediscovering a sense of pride in these songs, surprisingly excited to crank out nineties guitar stuff like The Bends, or reassuringly proud of something deeply of its time like Street Spirit.

I don’t really have any gripes about the show. They’ve rehearsed around 65 songs, and I’d hoped to hear How To Disappear Completely — possibly my favourite track — but it’s only had a couple of airings so far this tour. The setlists have been biased towards OK Computer, Hail To The Thief and In Rainbows, which is wonderful, but we’re getting sparse offerings from Kid A, Amnesiac, The King of Limbs and A Moon Shaped Pool. And of course I’d have loved Fake Plastic Trees and There, There. And Karma Police would always be my perfect closer. To be honest, I’d sit through their entire discography (well, only Creep from Pablo Honey, thanks).

And, you know, some songs don’t really work that well live sometimes, like Idioteque (it always sounded good live in the 2000s, but not here for some reason), and maybe Paranoid Android was a little disjointed here and there, and Jonny’s Kaoss Pad wasn’t really audible during EIIRP.

But really, I’ve barely any negatives to dwell on. I’d almost given up on ever seeing them tour again, so this all feels a bit miraculous, not least because Radiohead seem to be... having fun?! And I’m incredibly grateful to be part of it, not sat at home looking in from the outside at setlists and reading reviews with a deep sigh.^[4] Radiohead are back — on stage, at least — and I was there. Unexpectedly, and in a brilliant way, this is really happening.

Footnotes

1. I’m somewhat haunted by their gig at Nottingham Arena in 2003, when Thom was clearly not in the mood and a flat crowd didn’t help. “Don’t worry, Stereophonics will be here next week,” he sneered, referencing the unfeasibly popular but perennially boring Welsh band. ↩︎
2. I won’t get into this deeply here because I fully understand my sensitivity to important global issues and know when to act. I’ve left social networks, switched music platforms, and washed my hands of several bands and artists. If you need context in this case, read this recent interview and go from there. What I will say is this: I remain deeply upset by the dehumanising of Palestinians, and while I do think Radiohead (and Jonny) have made missteps on the issue, the band’s overall political worldview aligns with my own in more ways than not. And they despise Netanyahu’s regime. Based on everything I know, I do not consider Radiohead “Zionist traitors”. ↩︎
3. I read that for their recent tour, Nine Inch Nails used a small circular stage for more intimate songs, and that may have influenced Radiohead. My only previous experience of an in-the-round (and, on that occasion, spinning) stage was Beastie Boys at Wembley Arena, and that wild night has lived long in my memory. The place went nuts. ↩︎
4. I do realise that might be salt in a wound. I think with this post I’m attempting to present my delight as a way of saying, “I know I’m fortunate, so rest assured I channelled the energy of all my friends who couldn’t be there and enthused for all of us.” ↩︎

Setlist

Saturday 22nd November, 2025
O2 Arena, London

• 2 + 2 = 5
• Airbag
• Jigsaw Falling Into Place
• All I Need
• Ful Stop
• Nude
• Reckoner
• The Bends
• Separator
• Pyramid Song
• You and Whose Army?
• Sit Down. Stand Up.
• Myxomatosis
• No Surprises
• Optimistic
• Bodysnatchers
• Exit Music (for a Film)
• Street Spirit (Fade Out)

Encore:

• Let Down
• Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
• Idioteque
• Present Tense
• The Daily Mail
• Paranoid Android
• Everything in Its Right Place

Reply via email

At the same time, there’s a valuable lesson in “I’m gonna pray if I pray by myself; I’m gonna stand if I have to stand alone.”

(Aside: That’s a pretty bland recording of the song. I’ve never found a good recording of Holiness singers. You’d only ever understand what Holiness music can be at its best by hearing it live. It's as if the Holy Ghost refuses to enter recording studios.)

I remember women who had faithfully prayed for years for their lost husbands and lost children dancing in the aisles during that song, a Spirit of defiance having overtaken them. They would return to their tearful prayers soon enough but in that moment they were prepared to leave even their dearest ones behind in pursuit of their goal.

I'm quite aware of the dangers of spiritual lone wolfism. At the moment, however, we seem to be in a time of increasing conformity; the Romantic Spirit is waning. I don't blame anyone for turning to the more established sources. Lord knows I've felt the draw too. Nevertheless, some of us still feel the call of individualism. For those with ears to hear, let them hear.

 This weekend, I received my copy of DOCTYPE, and man: it feels like a step back to yesteryear to type in a computer program from a magazine: I can’t have done that in at least thirty years.

So yeah, DOCTYPE is a dead-tree (only) medium magazine containing the source code to 10 Web pages which, when typed-in to your computer, each provide you with some kind of fun and interactive plaything. Each of the programs is contributed by a different author, including several I follow and one or two whom I’m corresponded with at some point or another, and each brings their own personality and imagination to their contribution.

I opted to start with Stuart Langridge‘s The Nine Pyramids, a puzzle game about trying to connect all nodes in a 3×3 grid in a continuous line bridging adjacent (orthogonal or diagonal) nodes without visiting the same node twice nor moving in the same direction twice in a row (that last provision is described as “not visiting three in a straight line”, but I think my interpretation would have resulted in simpler code: I might demonstrate this, down the line!).

Per tradition with this kind of programming, I made a couple of typos, the worst of which was missing an entire parameter in a CSS conic-gradient() which resulted in the majority of the user interface being invisible: whoops! I found myself reminded of typing-in the code for Werewolves and Wanderer from The Amazing Amstrad Omnibus, whose data section – the part most-liable to be affected by a typographic bug without introducing a syntax error – had a helpful “checksum” to identify if a problem had occurred, and wishing that such a thing had been possible here!

But thankfully a tiny bit of poking in my browser’s inspector revealed the troublesome CSS and I was able to complete the code, and then the puzzle.

I’ve really been enjoying DOCTYPE, and you can still buy a copy if you’d like one of your own. It manages to simultaneously feel both fresh and nostalgic, and that’s really cool.

🧨 RSS is dynamite! Thanks for subscribing to my blog. 💥