You know that feeling when you're driving through a city at night and the streetlights start blurring into long, neon streaks? That's the exact sensation Thom Yorke was chasing in 1997. People treat OK Computer like a holy relic now, but at the time, Radiohead was just a band trying to survive the exhausting hangover of Britpop. They were terrified of becoming "Creep" machines. They wanted to make something that sounded like the inside of a refrigerator—cold, humming, and slightly unsettling.
Honestly, looking back at the Radiohead OK Computer tracks, it’s weird how much we got wrong about what they were actually saying. It wasn't just about "computers are bad." It was about the way technology makes us feel lonely even when we’re surrounded by people.
The Paranoia of Airbag and Paranoid Android
The album kicks off with "Airbag," and it’s basically a dub-reggae track filtered through a radiator. Phil Selway’s drums were sampled, chopped up, and spat back out to mimic the feeling of a car crash. Yorke had been in a nasty accident in 1987, and the song is about that weird, spiritual rebirth you feel when you survive something that should’ve killed you. It’s not a sad song. It’s actually kind of triumphant, which is a weird way to start an album that everyone calls "depressing."
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Then you hit "Paranoid Android." Six and a half minutes of absolute chaos.
Most bands would’ve been laughed out of the studio for trying to stitch three different songs together like a Frankenstein monster, but Radiohead made it work. Jonny Greenwood’s guitar solo at the end sounds like a literal panic attack. He used a Mutronics Mutator to get that jagged, filtered sound. It wasn’t just "virtuosity"—it was an attempt to sound like a machine breaking down. The lyrics came from a night out in Los Angeles where Yorke saw someone spill a drink on a woman in a Gucci suit and she turned into a demon. It’s a song about the ugliness of social status.
Subterranean Homesick Alien and the Need to Leave
If "Paranoid Android" is the panic, "Subterranean Homesick Alien" is the daydream. It’s heavily inspired by Miles Davis’s Bitches Brew. You can hear it in the electric piano and the way the guitars swirl around like they’re underwater.
Yorke was reading a lot of Douglas Adams back then. The song is about wanting to be abducted by aliens just so you can see the world from a different perspective. It’s the ultimate "outsider" anthem. He’s looking at people living their mundane lives—buying groceries, going to work—and he feels completely disconnected. It’s a vibe that resonates even more today in the era of doomscrolling. We’re all just staring at screens, wishing we were somewhere else.
Why Exit Music (For a Film) Still Hurts
This track was literally written for the credits of Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet. It starts with an acoustic guitar that sounds like it’s being played in a tomb. Then, halfway through, the fuzz bass kicks in. That bass sound? That’s Chris Thomas’s influence. It’s massive. It feels like the walls are closing in.
The most haunting part is the "breath" you hear. Yorke’s vocal performance was recorded in a single take in the hallway of St. Catherine’s Court, a mansion owned by Jane Seymour. The natural reverb of the stone walls gave it that ghostly quality. It’s a song about escape, but it feels like a funeral.
The Middle Stretch: From Let Down to Fitter Happier
"Let Down" is arguably the best song on the record. Fight me on this. It’s built on these interlocking guitar parts where Jonny Greenwood is playing in a different time signature than the rest of the band. It creates this "shimmering" effect. It’s about the feeling of being trapped in transit—airports, buses, trains—and feeling like a bug crushed in the ground.
Then you have "Karma Police." It’s the closest thing to a "normal" song on the album, but the ending ruins that. That feedback screech at the end? That’s Ed O’Brien’s guitar fed through a digital delay pedal until it oscillates into a screaming mess.
- Let Down: The hidden masterpiece of rhythmic complexity.
- Karma Police: A Beatles-esque melody that devolves into digital noise.
- Fitter Happier: The literal heart of the machine.
People always skip "Fitter Happier." Don't. It’s the most important moment on the album. It’s a Macintosh LC II’s "Fred" voice reading a list of self-help slogans. It’s terrifying because it sounds like a manual for how to be a "good" person in a capitalist society. "Eating well / No more microwave dinners and saturated fats." It’s a checklist for a life that has no soul.
The Heavy Hitters of the Second Half
"Electioneering" is the only "rock" song left on the record. It’s loud, it’s angry, and it’s about the soul-crushing nature of political campaigning. It’s the most straightforward thing they did, but it provides a necessary jolt of adrenaline before the album descends back into the mist.
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"Climbing Up the Walls" is the dark heart of the record. It features 16 violins playing slightly different notes to create a "cluster chord" effect. It sounds like something out of a horror movie. Yorke has said it’s about the people who are "pushed under the carpet" in society. The scream at the end is one of the most raw things he’s ever recorded.
And then there’s "No Surprises."
It sounds like a lullaby or a music box. It’s beautiful. But the lyrics are about suicide and the crushing weight of a "job that slowly kills you." The contrast is what makes it work. It’s the sound of someone giving up. The video, where Yorke’s head is in a bowl of water, perfectly captures that feeling of being unable to breathe while the world goes on as normal.
Lucky and The Tourist: Finding a Way Out
"Lucky" was actually recorded before the rest of the album for a charity record called The Help Album. it set the tone for everything else. That high-pitched ringing at the start is Ed O'Brien strumming the strings above the nut of his guitar. It’s a song about survival, echoing the themes of "Airbag."
Finally, we get "The Tourist."
This is the most underrated of the Radiohead OK Computer tracks. It was written by Jonny Greenwood, and it’s a plea for everyone to slow down. "Hey man, slow down / Idiot, slow down." It’s the perfect ending because the whole album is about the frantic, paranoid pace of modern life. This song is the exhale. It’s the moment you finally pull the car over and just look at the stars.
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Why This Album Didn't Fail
The music industry expected OK Computer to be a disaster. Capitol Records thought it was "commercial suicide." They were wrong because they didn't realize that people were tired of the fake happiness of the mid-90s. They wanted something that felt real.
The production by Nigel Godrich was revolutionary. He didn’t try to make it sound "clean." He let the hum of the amps stay in. He let the mistakes happen. That’s why it doesn't sound like a digital relic from 1997; it sounds like it could have been recorded yesterday.
Your OK Computer Listening Strategy
If you want to actually "get" this album, stop listening to it as a background playlist. It wasn't designed for that. It’s an immersive experience.
- Listen on Headphones: There are dozens of tiny textures—panning guitars, distant voices, and electronic glitches—that you’ll miss on a phone speaker.
- Ignore the "Depressing" Label: Focus on the humor. "Paranoid Android" is actually kind of funny if you look at the lyrics. It’s a satire.
- Track the Dynamics: Notice how many songs start quiet and end in a massive explosion of sound. That’s the band’s signature move here.
- Read the Lyrics Separately: Yorke’s delivery is often slurred or abstract. Reading the words to "No Surprises" or "Let Down" reveals a much deeper, more literary layer to the music.
The real power of these songs isn't that they predicted the future of the internet or smartphones. It's that they captured the timeless feeling of being a human being trying to hold onto your identity in a world that wants to turn you into a data point.
Start your next session with "Let Down." It’s the bridge between the rock band they were and the experimental pioneers they became. Listen to the way the two guitars weave together in the bridge. That’s not a computer doing that; that’s two people in a room, perfectly in sync, trying to make sense of the noise.