OK Computer - Radiohead

Another contemporary classic pulled from the basket. Radiohead's third album. This might be the most confessional of all the Classic Album Martini Saturdays. Therefore there is B and there is L.

As soon as the album begins we're both immediately transported to adolescence. It's warm, familiar and moody. Together we are reviewing old memories alone.

Radiohead is the band of our generation. Ok Computer was an event in 1997. Everyone talked about it. Everyone had their favourite songs and we debated them, argued about them. "Ambition makes you look pretty ugly". Kurt wrote lyrics like that.

B: Airbag opens with a kicking riff. Even though you know Thom was being ironic when he says "in an interstellar burst, I am back to save the universe..." it was still the most glorious hubris to a 17 year old. Played it loud in my headphones while walking to the bus and it felt momentous and prophetic. Still does.

L: Paranoid Android - six minutes of kick-you-in-the-guts drama, followed by the psychedelic space of Subterranean Homesick Alien. And then there is the filmclip. Those "unborn chicken voices in my head" were awakened watching this film clip on Rage at 2am.

L: Listening to Exit Music (For A Film) as a teenager, I fantasised about running away with a boy. But not in the saccharine, runaway to a tropical paradise, sort of escape. But rather a dramatic, dangerous, life-threatening escape. And in my fantasy, I was still shattered when it all went to hell at the end of the song.

Karma Police. There's nothing we can write about this song - just put it on and listen to it. Loud. "For a minute there, I lost myself". And if you haven't had enough of scary road flimclips then watch the UNKLE film clip for Rabbit in Your Headlights. Or wait until we guest program Rage.

L: I'd forgotten Fitter Happier. I admit to skipping it in most listens. However, it is a break. It allows you to catch up with your emotions on the album. It was a clever song. And I was clever listening to it. I was an Arts student. "Fond but not in love". No man was permanently taking my heart. I was too knowing, too clever. But I still yearned for my Exit Music (For a Film) - for someone to sweep me away.

B: Jangling chaos of Electioneering. Dance motherfucker. But the only way to dance to Electioneering is like an indie chick. I was always fascinated by indie chicks at the BritPop clubs I used to go to - no rhythm, limbs flailing. I used to go to hip hop clubs as well but girls there cared how they looked when they danced - indie chicks didn't. Or maybe they did. And maybe the whole gimmick was to look like a puppet master had control of their limbs.

What makes it a great album are the 'album tracks' - the ones you can't remember the names of. Lucky. Let Down. As stand-alone tracks they're not memorable (but of course, they'd be stand-outs on any other album). But in a whole piece of art, these are just as critical. You might not remember the fallen soldiers in the background of Delacroix's Liberty Leading the People, but take them away and the painting doesn't work. (Rest assured, this is as close to Coldplay as this blog gets.)

B: Climbing Up The Walls is my favourite song on the album (I used to play it on the clarinet - no shit). "It's always best when the light is out, it's always better on the outside." It felt like Thom was endorsing me, saying "it's ok you don't know how to talk to girls - neither do I". Listening to this song tonight with the girl of my dreams, who is now my wife, feels wrong. Because this song mattered to me when I was a moody adolescent and certain that the girl of my dreams, whoever she was, would shun me. 

This album tops polls of the greatest albums ever. But who cares about the complexity of the songwriting and the intricacy of the production? What matters is that it rips out your guts and leaves you a bloodied mess on the floor. This album is an event.