Radiohead are in a strange spot. This is the first time, since their debut album over 30 years ago, that the group is touring with no new or recent material behind them. A band that has been synonymous with invention, innovation, and a once seemingly ceaseless charge of forward momentum is now standing still, a little directionless, and forced to look back. It’s easy to forget just how much the band has slowed down in recent years—it’s been almost a decade since their last record, and they have made just two studio albums since 2007’s In Rainbows.
A recent interview with The Sunday Times also revealed a band a little unsure of their place in the world. They confirmed there are no new songs and no immediate plans for any more, while remaining uncertain of the future beyond this tour. Ed O’Brien said he wanted to quit the band and almost did. Some of them have not spoken to one another in years, and they will be touring with separate dressing rooms for the first time.
Also, the band remain under constant criticism for their stance on Israel, to the point that the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement called for a boycott of these shows due the group’s “complicit silence” and Jonny Greenwood’s ongoing collaborations with Dudu Tassa, whom BDS say has previously performed for members of the “genocidal” Israel Defence Forces (IDF). On Tuesday, The Guardian published an article stating that, after the reporting on the call to boycott in September, “its journalists were blocked from receiving tickets to review the Madrid concert.” If one indeed follows the other, it is an obscene and hugely ironic move given the band’s public stance on the rights to free speech and around silencing and censorship issues.
The combination of these factors does not paint a picture of a band at its peak, both creatively and in terms of interpersonal dynamics (O’Brien has also been publicly vocal about his support for a free Palestine). Radiohead’s decision to play this tour in the round, on a small circular center stage, feels like a symbolic decision rooted in bringing one another close together to try and regain some sense of grounding and connection.
To that end, the mood outside the concert in Madrid for the opening night of the tour was jubilant. No protests took place, that I witnessed, and once inside, the mood felt the same. In terms of what to expect from the evening, it felt genuinely impossible to get a sense of where it could go. When they got back together to rehearse for the first time in years, they played their albums from The Bends onwards, back-to-back, and then pulled out a long list of 65 songs that would make up an ever-changing setlist. Perhaps this is the first time the group stared into the rearview mirror to think about something akin to a greatest hits set. Or perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to become obdurate, go weird and dive into the B-sides and deep cuts. In true Radiohead fashion, the result was something completely different.
The place erupted as the band casually stumbled onto the stage and glided into the immortal “Let Down.” It’s a song that has become a hit in the TikTok era, positioning the band as arguably being more popular than ever during a time when they are being most actively disliked in other corners. The group was encased in wrap-around screens projecting visuals of their performance and only barely visible as the slow-burn groove of the song unfurled over beautifully overlapping guitars.
When they follow up with “2+2=5” and “Sit Down. Stand Up,” the rustiness showed a little, with some clunky and out-of-sync rhythms that struggled to lock in neatly. But the volume and intensity of the songs—with thumping sub-bass and lightning-crack drums—were visceral. “Sit Down. Stand Up” is glitchy, jittery, and chaotic to begin with, but it veered off into wonderfully strange territory on stage, almost sounding like a drum‘n’bass remix. It’s the closest the band has ever sounded to making straight-up club music.
The screens covering the band, which only allowed brief glimpses of them in between visual transitions, were a little alienating at first; fine for a band who made their bones on “feeling alienated.” But once they moved away to fully display everyone on stage, there was a mighty roar in response, as the screens soon became a thoughtful and effective element of the production. The set-up inside the circle felt more like a rehearsal space, with the group clustered together while also roaming freely around the stage, playing to different parts of the audience. Also back were Yorke’s, let’s say, idiosyncratic dance moves: twisting and jerking all over the place in zig-zag weaves and spiralling dips.
The mood and tempo bounced around early on. From a quietly euphoric “Lucky” to a slightly lethargic and stodgy “Ful Stop” via the looming intensity of Hail to the Thief’s “The Gloaming.” What followed was a flawless and truly phenomenal run. “Myxomatosis” was crunchy and punchy, again landing with pummeling sub-bass, while “No Surprises” into “Videotape” was a beautiful one-two hit of melancholy. “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” was genuinely sublime, with the band locked into a furious and ceaselessly twisting rhythm. Then from “Everything in its Right Place” to “The National Anthem” via “15 Step,” the group channeled their imperial era: as weighty, tactile, and eruptive as it is deft, nimble, and graceful.
The group seemed most energized when performing material from In Rainbows and Hail to the Thief. Yorke even fist-punched the air with anticipation of singing “A Wolf at the Door” as it whirred to life, before he let rip emphatic howls. The encore was another story. “Fake Plastic Trees”—as beautiful and welcome as it is—felt like a sideways offering at this point. It was done gorgeously, but it came across as more of a token concession to a bygone era, or parallel universe, of the group rather than a meaningful re-engagement with that period of their work. Things picked up with “Paranoid Android” and when Greenwood and O’Brien pulled out their own drum kits to play alongside Philip Selway and newcomer Chris Vatalaro on “There, There.”
For the closing “Karma Police,” they banded together closer than they had all night. The band moved to one corner of the stage to deliver a rousing and euphoric version. It sounded like a group who were feeling reconnected, in sync, and rejuvenated. It also felt like they were still standing on the edge.
Setlist:
Let Down
2 + 2 = 5
Sit Down. Stand Up.
Bloom
Video
Lucky
Ful Stop
The Gloaming
Myxomatosis
No Surprises
Videotape
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
Everything in Its Right Place
15 Step
The National Anthem
Daydreaming
A Wolf at the Door
Bodysnatchers
Idioteque
Encore:
Fake Plastic Trees
Subterranean Homesick Alien
Paranoid Android
How to Disappear Completely
You and Whose Army?
There, There
Karma Police