What were you doing when you were 18? Drinking? Dating? Going to all night raves? Perhaps you were partying like it was nearly 1999? Not me. I was doing a 2500 piece jigsaw puzzle, in a room, on my own.

Growing up in a small, remote village in the English country side, with no pub, no shops and a mere 100 houses must have contributed somewhat to my sheltered life. It was 1997 and I had just finished my first year of university. The summer holidays were upon me and I was spending my mornings working on a 2500 piece jigsaw puzzle that I had won earlier that year at the church fête.

But it’s not that I didn’t have any friends (or social life, a.k.a. church fête). In fact, one friend, had just purchased a popular album on compact disc and had made me a copy on cassette tape. “Listen to this, it’ll blow your socks off” he had said. But when I got home, I put the tape on my desk and swiftly forgot about it.

A few days later, while I was as I was trying to find a green edge piece, I remembered about the tape and decided to give it a listen. “In the next world war, in a jack-knifed juggernaut, I am born again…” It was Radiohead’s third album, OK Computer. 

A good memory

My first memory of popular music was 1981s “This Ole House” by Shakin' Stevens. Lovely stuff. I also definitely remember “Woman” by John Lennon, “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel and “Can Can” by Bad Manners. Yeah Bad Manners, I haven’t heard of them either, I had to research them. I vividly remember the “Can Can” song being played frequently on Top of the Pops at the time. 

For some reason, my parents never had a record player. But in the early 90s, they purchased a compact disc player and soon a collection of albums from the 80s and 90s started appearing in our MFI (look it up!) laminate media storage cabinet. To me and my siblings, this was our own personal branch of Our Price (look it up!) and we started to craft our own sub-collections from our parents (albeit limited) master collection. Remember, we are living in a remote village with no access to basic shops, let along record shops.

My sister nabbed all the Phil Collins records and I think my brother took the Celine Dion and Tina Turner discs. We all enjoyed the “Decade” album by Duran Duran, and “Divine Madness” by Madness. I added the “Stop Making Sense” by Talking Heads and “Greatest Hits 1977–1990” by The Stranglers to my collection. I seem to remember my parents purchased the majority of these CDs from the back of a magazine which might explain why there were so many “greatest hits” albums. Personally, I think these "hits" albums do have their place, as long as they're consumed as part of a healthy diet of studio albums. Despite overdosing on best-of's, I think I ended up listening to a pretty alternative collection of records for a 14-year-old, compared to some others at school who talked of bands such as Take That and Heaven 17.

The first CD that I owned myself was “The best of James Bond, 30^th anniversary collection”. Probably even less credible than a greatest hits album, but I do love James Bond themes. My favourite James Bond theme was (and still is) “Nobody does it better” from the film, “The Spy who Loved me”. At the time, I was convinced that it was the best song in the world. In the mid-90s I discovered Blur and Oasis, almost in the same week. You were supposed to pick one to support, but I liked them both. Those two bands consumed my life from 1994 to 1997.

An airbag saved my life

That brings us nicely back to 1997 and the jigsaw puzzle. I have to work alone in the spare room as it’s the only place with enough space for this reasonably large jigsaw. As part of my daily routine, I’m working on the puzzle for a few hours each morning while listening to music. I like routines and I worked the OK Computer cassette in to my regular playlist. As I placed each little piece of jigsaw the sound of Radiohead was slowly absorbing into me.

It was summer and Glastonbury was happening. I remember seeing a trailer on BBC2 for the television coverage. The trailer featured snippets from bands who were playing that year and I kept hearing it, over and over, multiple times a day (I guess I watched a lot of BBC2). “This is what you get, this is what you get when you mess with us.” What with listening to the cassette tape every morning and continually hearing the trailer while binging on BBC2, these songs were starting to grow on me. Looking back now, I realise it wasn't a case of love at first sight but rather somewhat of a slow burn. My guess to why? This music was just so different to anything I had listened to before. 

One evening I found myself lying on my bed listening to OK Computer. I was now purposefully listening to the album, not just having it on as background music. And it was that very evening, while listening to the album that something unexpected happened to me. To this day, I’m not sure what, but I slipped into an unfamiliar trance-like state, somewhere between “Karma Police” and “Fitter Happier”. The album was having a strange effect on me. A kaleidoscope of colours and shapes was filling my head. Had I been working on the jigsaw too long? Was my mind breaking out of its regimented and logical ways and starting to operate in a more free-form artistic manor? Maybe. It’s only now, as I write this all down and think about some of the lyrics around that point in the album that I spot… “For a minute there. I lost my self. I lost my self.” I can’t know for sure if that was the exact point at which it happened, but that does accurately describe the experience. 

I was falling in love with this album and with this band. When you consider how I’d recently moved from the likes of “Baggy Trousers” to something like “Paranoid Android” you can start to imagine the effect on my teenage mind. This new music was sonically superior to anything I had ever heard before. So precise and accurate, and yet peppered with a spluttering of aggressive, frenzied guitar, all set beneath a layer of undecipherable lyrics. Sure, maybe I could make out some of the words, but I certainly wasn’t equipped to determine any of the song's meanings. It didn’t matter though. I was in love.

Who are my real friends, have they all got the bends?

With my OK Computer CD wearing out (I had upgraded from the cassette tape), I started to dig into Radiohead's back catalogue. I remember getting home from the shops with a copy of The Bends. I don't think it hit me right away, just how good the album was, but by the end of the week I realised I had another special album in my hands. Every song felt like it could be a hit single, just like one of those CDs off the back of the catalogues. Only this was not a greatest hits record, but simply, a genuinely great record.

I later picked up a copy of the band's debut album Pablo Honey and the “Live at the Astoria” gig on video home system (VHS). The gig was from the bands 1994 tour, in which they were touring the first two albums. I used to love watching this concert. The songs from Pablo Honey were so were angry and explosive and particularly suited being performed live.

One day, I realised that there were Radiohead songs out there, somewhere, that I hadn’t heard before. I had recently started using this new device called the internet to locate music I was interested in. So, in the afternoons (mornings were for jigsaw), I would routinely search for new songs across the many Radiohead fan sites that existed at the time. My personal favourite, "The Perfect Song Facsimile" (a homage to a line from "The Trickster"), offered the greatest selection of bootlegs and b-sides.

"The Perfect Song Facsimile": This in an archived version of the original site

In the late 90s, it might take something like four hours to download three minutes of audio via a modem and a dial-up connection. You would hope that during that time, someone else in the house didn’t pick up the phone to make a call, disrupting the download. I put in the hours and eventually downloaded all of the bands b-sides and EPs. All this new material continued to fuel my love for the band. I would later collect all the physical releases.

My Collection (Part I) - Pablo Honey, The Bends, OK Computer

A few weeks later the last piece of the jigsaw fell into place. Not literally, I was still on the sky. While searching for b-sides online, I came across some Radiohead live gigs and discovered that the band were covering Carly Simons, “Nobody does it better”. So now Radiohead had covered my favourite song. Was this a sign? I decided so. It was official...

That was the day I decided, Radiohead would be my favourite band.

Hello readers! I hope you are enjoying the tale thus far. The story now takes us forward from 1997, summer of love, through the subsequent years to the present date...

After years of waiting, nothing came

So there I was, up to date, having now listened to every song that Radiohead had released. I had even produced my own CD, a collection of b-sides called “Nobody does it better”. I was now looking forward to new material.

Three years does not seem like long to wait now, but at the time, it seemed like forever. I was very excited to hear the next album. And then, with little warning, no singles and very little publicity, it was here. Kid A.

I don't mind saying that I was initially disappointed. Not even disappointed, perhaps, confused? What was this I was listening to? I did not recognise this music as Radiohead. I remember checking the CD booklet to make sure it was the same band, because even the logo was different. This can't be the same band surely? But it was. The details of the CD booklet confirmed it.

The problem facing the band was how to follow up an album like OK Computer? The album, unexpected for the band, achieved phenomenal success. Surely anything that followed would be compared to this perfection and instantly be deemed unworthy. So the band changed direction. The new album was in a totally different genre. This was genius, as it was now almost impossible to make a comparison between the two albums.

When Radiohead released Kid A in 2000, I had my first taste of electronica. Considering that only three years ago, guitar based OK Computer was a leap for me, this was not going to be an easy listen. So I listened. And I listened. And after a while, slowly but surely, I started to fall in love all over again. Once having acclimated to this new sound, the underlying songs could now be heard in all their beauty. And what beauty.

In under a year, there were rumours of another album. I remember staying up late one night to catch the premier of "Pyramid song" and its music video. It was exquisite. Their fourth album Amnesiac followed shortly and soon became my favourite album. Physically as well, as the special edition is in the style of a mislaid library book.

With a blank VHS tape in hand, I got ready to record Radiohead's 2001 show at BBC Broadcasting House. This was my first chance to see and hear these new songs performed live. In the same year a live album, I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings was released. Notable songs include the mesmerising piano version of "Like Spinning Plates" and the chaotic brass of the Humphrey Littleton band on "Life in a Glasshouse".

These two records were nothing like that I was expecting or even hoping for. I just wanted more of the same. But the band knew better.

This is really happening

In summer 2003, Radiohead released album five, Hail to the Thief. A month later it was my birthday and I took the day off work to buy a new hifi system and a pair of floor standing speakers.

Having a birthday in August meant that I had never been at school on my birthday and I had continued this trend of celebrating at home by strategically booking my birthday off at all subsequent places of employment. I recommend it.

After assembling everything, I sat back and listened to the new album. It marked the return to a more guitar-based sound and so did not require many listens for me to fully enjoy. My old speakers were not terrible, but this new pair were supreme. It sounded like a different album. The softer songs like “Sail to the moon” were now divine. I could hear a much richer sound, sharper vocals and noticed instruments I previously didn't know were there. With the volume up loud, there was not a hint of distortion. I started going back through the previous albums and although every song benefited from the new speakers, it was a certain type of song that really shone. Specifically, the Kid A album which now took on a new lease of life. 

On average, I'd probably be listening to two or three albums a day. I'd put music on when I was studying, traveling on the train, washing the dishes, you get the idea. However, I'd also make time to exclusively listen to music. With this new pair of speakers, I was making time to listen to Kid A at every opportunity. I’m lucky that I haven’t suffered from much stress in my life. Nevertheless, if I ever felt the need to relax or just take a break, I’d sit down in my front room, draw the curtains or dim the lights if I had dimmers at the time, and put on Kid A. I'd just sit and listen. I’d close my eyes and just let the music wash all over me.

...And then it happened again.

It was not quite the same experience as all those years ago with OK Computer, but something very similar. This time more than a fleeting moment and more of a repeatable sensation. Typically, "Idioteque" would trigger it. Eyes closed, the rhythmic beat filling my ears and a full focus on the music. I didn’t know it at the time, but my body was releasing endorphins. I was meditating.

Simply relaxing and focusing the mind on meditation triggers the release of endorphins and also helps increase dopamine, serotonin, and melatonin. This cocktail of chemicals flooding the bloodstream leaves the meditator feeling calm, happy, and content. - Harte, Eifert, and Smith, 1995

I didn't understand what was happening for a quite a few months until one day I figured it out. I was quite surprised, as I've never actively tried to meditate before. I didn't know anything about it. It just happened. It was happening so frequently for such a period that I can now summon these endorphins at will. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. Do they run out?

I'll stay home forever...

Something else happened in 2003; I went to my first Radiohead gig. You might think this strange, as by this time I'd been a fan of the band for six years. So let me try and explain.

Back in the late 90s, I would regularly visit my favourite bands websites. These simple websites were typically comprised of news, bios, tour dates, discographies and media. Media being a few photos and some 20 second clips of their music videos. (The internet couldn't yet handle four minutes of video). I would always head straight for the discography pages. I was fascinated by a bands back catalogue. I love to see everything listed out in its completion. Other people might find it more interesting to read about the band members, but not me. It was not uncommon for me to know the complete release history inside out and not know any of the band members names.

Another page I would bypass was the tour dates.

Despite watching and enjoying many music concerts on my television, I had no desire to actually attend one. In fact, I don’t even think it crossed my mind. To me, the idea of going to something like Glastonbury was outrageous. Of course, in retrospect, I wish I had gone to see Radiohead headline in 1997. I guess I just wasn’t mixing with like-minded friends at the time and it can't have helped living in rural Lincolnshire. I’m not even sure where the nearest music venue would have been. Maybe Leicester? That was 35 miles away, and the last time Radiohead played a small venue like Leicester was 1995, two years before I had even heard of them.

But in the year 2000 I moved to Nottingham and my local music venue was Rock City. The first band I saw live was Supergrass and I remember the gig well. A room full of people all my age, all enjoying the same music. Beer flowing, the crowd all jumping up and down. How had I missed out on this for so many years. This was incomparable to watching it on the television.

The next time Radiohead played in Nottingham; I was there. Me and three friends. It was a great night. 25 songs, most from Hail to the Thief, which was just out, and a scattering of favourites from Kid A, OK Computer and The Bends.

The stand out live performance for me was "There There". Jonny, with his guitar slung over his back, joins Ed on the tom drums for the first half of the song. The beat builds beautifully though the piece. After Thom sings the words "There There", Jonny swings his guitar round over his neck and joins Thom for the songs second half. Chaotic guitar work contrasts the rhythm of the drums which have been continuously plodding out their steady beat. The stage lights perfectly complement what we are hearing and as the song reaches its climatic ending, we are exposed to a spectacular wall of sound and light. 

Jigsaw falling into place

Since 2003, the band released a further three studio albums and I continue to follow and enjoy them. I have since filled in all the gaps in my Radiohead collection by finding copies of all the bands old singles and EPs through record shops and eBay auctions. I now own a complete version of the very discography that I gazed over so many times online and painstakingly downloaded, song by song, back in the day.

My Collection (Part II) - Kid A and onwards

Since that first Radiohead gig, I’ve seen the band play live another eight times, across four different countries. Including one super-secret surprise gig that involved queuing up all day for. I've even made it to Glastonbury, although sadly Radiohead weren't playing that year. I recently made a website to document the details of all of the Radiohead gigs that I've attended, charting all songs played, countries visited and album distributions.

My Radiohead Database: The kind of thing only a Radiohead fan would make

When I like a band, its for the music and for the music only. However, looking back now, I can see some other factors that might have subconsciously drawn me to the band. The band have been stable, are still together and have maintained the original line up, for 30-plus years now. Stability appeals to me. I'm Ernold Same, I'm Colin Zeal, I'm looking at my watch, being on time, once again.

Which contrived segue leads us to a brief mention of another band I adore; Blur. Although their style of music differs somewhat, they have also been reasonably stable over a similar amount of time and retained all the original band members. I also discovered the band on their third album which was also considered their breakthrough album. This also followed a very strong second album off the back of a very raw sounding debut.

In case you're wondering, I did complete the jigsaw, back in 1997. It's not been out the box since, but after writing this article, I feel like dusting it down and starting it again. Maybe this winter? Of course, I’ll be sure to add OK Computer to the playlist.

I would like to formally thank my friend, for giving me a copy of OK Computer on cassette tape, in the summer of 1997.

I have a feeling that I would have eventually discovered the band on my own at some point. Right? I mean it would have been inevitable, surely? There's no way I would have made it this far in life without discovering Radiohead. Maybe, out there somewhere, in a parallel universe, there's another Adrian writing a blog article about some naughty boys in nasty schools, and headmasters breaking all the rules...