As perhaps the most hyped band of the last 25 years (Thom Yorke could record the sound of his son playing scale-electrix with The Bill on in the background, add reverb and it’d be hailed a masterpiece), the ceremony around the 20-year anniversary of Radiohead’s most unassailable work, the dystopic mope of OK Computer, has been at fever pitch in recent weeks. We’ve learned they cut a potential hit song to avoid another ‘Creep’, we’ve learned they all believe in ghosts, and we’ve even heard Alanis Morissette’s memories of the pre-album tour.
As with any band that receives unanimous praise, the hype is both well deserved and fairly extreme, with attention being granted to the most inconsequential studio snippets from the Englishmen’s glory days. Radiohead are very much a sum-of-their-parts band, which means raking over the forensics is often rewarding.
They create albums in the studio, they tinker and labour and layer – which means cul-de-sacs are often wandered into, pop songs shunted for no other reason than they don’t fit the overarching concept of the album, and demos and unreleased bits are created, then kept in air-conditioned vaults to roll out on anniversaries, like old photo albums.
One of the very best demos from the OK Computer sessions is ‘Karma Police’. Whereas early versions of ‘No Surprises’ contain a completely different lyric – including a troubling “bleeding in the bathroom” stanza – the theme of ‘Karma Police’ is fairly established: a less mystic version of John Lennon’s ‘Instant Karma’, with truncheons and uniforms, swaying to a similar sound as ‘Sexy Sadie’.
A more dainty touch on the keyboard intro gives the demo a Kinks ‘Village Green Preservation Society’ feel, while the snarky line “Arrest this girl, she stares at me as if she owns the world” was annexed in favour of giving her a Hitler hairdo.
The chorus is sung a lot higher, and sweeter, too; Yorke’s beautiful coo quite at odds with the worn, tempered voice on the finished version. Another slight lyrical change: “This is what you get when you mess with me” is far less ominous, despite the personal nature of the threat. The ‘us’ in the finished version takes on the weight of the collective, be it a faceless corporation, a dangerous government, or those opposing and protesting either.
While the ending of the studio version dive-bombs into dissonance, the computer eating the band, this version builds like a classic rock song, with loose harmonies and a rollicking rhythm section showcasing a great live band that basically doesn’t feature live in any real way on the album.
OK Computer is a masterpiece, pieced together in a movie star’s secluded mansion, but it’s also just a very good rock album.
OKNOTOK, the remastered 20-year anniversary version of OK Computer, is out now through XL/Remote Control.
