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Radiohead

OK Computer

A1

Airbag

4:44

A2

Paranoid Android

6:23

A3

Subterranean Homesick Alien

4:27

B4

Exit Music (For A Film)

4:24

B5

Let Down

4:59

B6

Karma Police

4:21

C7

Fitter Happier

1:57

C8

Electioneering

3:50

C9

Climbing Up The Walls

4:45

C10

No Surprises

3:48

D11

Lucky

4:19

D12

The Tourist

5:24

Capitol Records (7243 8 55229 1 8)

2x Vinyl LP Album Limited Edition Reissue

Release date: Jan 1, 2008, US

The term ‘timeless’ is often carelessly applied. Music can be eternal in a literal sense, but very rarely does a work have the endurance to live past its own age and move into new realms of significance as it ages. OK Computer is one of these works. This was a life born after The Bends and away from traditional rock and roll, derived instead from a place of anxiety and paranoia that distanced itself from the declining movement of Britpop. A transitional work in the best sense of the word, it was a clinical move into the cold and empirical, before the decisive nosedive into electronica that triggered Kid A.

Each song is a monument in its own right, performed with an artistry that sounds somehow effortless in spite of the album’s musical complexities. While Thom Yorke provides the voice to carry a nervous narrative, a band united in their despondency set the oscillation in motion. Individual excellence never interferes: even “Paranoid Android”, OK Computer’s most ambitious moment, weaves through multiple passages without a display of brandish swagger.

No single component of the record is more important or less significant than another. Jonny Greenwood’s unique guitar work is a true joy to behold, and has been rightly celebrated, but would not be as effective without the rhythmic pulse of Phil Selway, whose choice of pattern and tempo is key in setting the tone to “Karma Police”, “The Tourist”, and “Let Down”. This musical harmony is what makes OK Computer, an album that communicates concern over the synthetic nature of modern culture, such an intriguing and rewarding paradox.

Everything it tries to convey is said literally so on “Fitter Happier”, a turbulent tide of received imagery, signifying society’s troublesome detachment from reality. The album is an agitated reminder that we are all human; each of us insecure, scared, and extremely vulnerable.

The album's release in 1997 captured a moment in time that was somehow ahead of its own. To merely brand it a landmark of the ’90s is a disservice to its insight — OK Computer is as relevant now as ever, both culturally and sonically. The term ‘timeless’ is indeed hastily hurled at works too often, but in the case of OK Computer, there’s no term more appropriate.