Somewhere We Will Meet: My Life with Radiohead’s OK Computer by Sarah Nichols
I can’t tell you that I knew about Radiohead from the beginning. Maybe, in 1993, I flicked the radio dial across Thom Yorke’s signature sob-sneer of a voice, unimpressed, a cast-off of the grunge I didn’t care about. I was sullen, depressed, and nineteen in 1993; a high school dropout. I was the perfect audience for that earnest despair, but I didn’t feel it. I see myself rewinding my cassette of Depeche Mode’s Songs of Faith and Devotion (released a month after Pablo Honey), the bedroom light off, at least until the end of the first side. I listened to the hold-overs from the last decade; Republic might not be brilliant in the way that Technique was (and is), but it was still New Order. Wish didn’t exert the same night-blooming dread that Disintegration did, but it was still the Cure. I wanted stability, the same voices that I had devoted hours to in all of those dark suburban bedrooms.
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