Rainbows in my head

Oeeoooooeeeeeeeoooaaaaah' says the scruffy little chap in red jim-jams, standing on the organic, low emission, carbon neutral stage in front of 50 000 odd people, all of whom are going 'Oeeoooooeeeeoooaaah' in return. Thom Yorke (for it is he) always brings to mind the narcoleptic dormouse from Alice in Wonderland. The weight of the world sits on his eyelids, making it dreadfully tiring to open his eyes and actually focus on the undulating sea of acolytes prostrating themselves before him. Perhaps it is all those energy efficient lights shining down from on high that keeps those peepers hidden, perhaps not. Needless to say, the man doesn't require sight to sing, and sing he does, solidly, for three hours.

The entrance exam for Radiohead must have been extremely hard to sit, as every single band member including Thom (or T Hom to use his gang name) demonstrates a complex array of musical dexterity. Equally at home behind the drums, strumming guitars, tinkling the old Joanna or singing, the band sheds instruments like beads of sweat. Les Pauls fly off and Fenders fly on and everyone seems to switch positions with every song. This band is a fluid and synchronous machine, oiled up and polished to a harmonious sheen by a thousand performances and 7 studio albums of consistently individual, exceptional rock music. Driven by the knowledge that they have utterly nothing to prove but what the hey, they'll prove it all again anyway.

B