EMI has released Radiohead’s first three albums Pablo Honey, The Bends, and OK Computer in expanded editions. 1997’s OK Computer found the band breaking through to the masses, although that’s not to imply it’s a mainstream album. It’s a focused work, a multi-layered sonic journey that progresses through “an atmosphere that's perhaps a bit shocking when you first hear it, but only as shocking as the atmosphere on The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds” as lead singer Thom Yorke told Spin.
While the songs range from good to great on their own, OK Computer works best as a whole to fully appreciate its ideas and themes. Guitarist Ed O’Brien told The Guardian, “We spent two weeks track-listing the album. The context of each song is really important… It's not a concept album but there is a continuity there.” The deeper the immersion, the more satisfying the experience as it engulfs the mind. Earphones are recommended for those who want to make the full commitment and immerse themselves within it.
“Airbag” opens with what sounds like a cellos and sleigh bells ringing. Instruments and layers of sonic textures are added to the mix. Within the maelstrom, Yorke as the narrator offers different snapshots in which he finds himself born again, something that happens with every moment in a person’s life although most are unaware that who they were a moment ago is not who they are in the now. Even more disconcerting is it could all end at any second, yet by some miracle it usually doesn’t. In this instance “an airbag saved [his] life.”
“Paranoid Android,” a nod to Douglas Adams’ creation Marvin, is a multi-section piece that while not necessary epic in length certainly feels that way in scope. The narrator reveals himself a delusional fellow who has “unborn chicken voices in his head” and makes threats about who “will be first against the wall” when he is king. The music has the lilting feel of wandering through the day, similar to every other day. A computerized voice, foreshadowing a later track, repeats something just out of comprehension the narrator tries to understand. The music parallels his an intense reaction to a woman who doesn’t remember who he is. The guitar rings out wildly as the section climaxes, then transitions into a bridge equating a slow descent, almost in free fall, and you can almost feel the “rain down on me from a great height” if you allow it, but don’t let the paranoia make you think it’s only falling you. He repeats a verse and double tracks another vocal, adding to the madness, punctuated by the crunchy, chaotic intensity from the middle section.
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