I Lost Myself

Written August 2016

Radiohead played Lollapalooza this year.  I was there with my two oldest sons, who are really into this band.  It's supposed to be my generation's music, I know, but not in my household.  Although I respect them, I never got on the Radiohead train.  When the showtime arrived, I found a nice spot on the stairs off to the side and had a clear view, at least until the people next to me decided to stand up and dance around with their baby.  I completely forgot to bring a baby to this super loud and rainy festival!  I waved to the little guy and rolled my eyes at the parents.  The hipster dad decided to leave to get a closer look and gave me my view back.  By this point, Radiohead were playing "Ful Stop" and I was wondering how I would make it through the next two hours.

The graphics that flashed on the video screens throughout the performance were very interesting.  They showed all of the band members playing but in a scattered, cinematic style.  I decided that I would focus on the drummer for the rest of the night to keep myself engaged.  "Just watch Phil Selway", I said to myself.  There was another percussionist on stage that looked exactly like him, probably Bill Selway.  I couldn't tell them apart, so I watched them both.

Look, they are a talented band and I like that they are testing their boundaries, especially after seeing so many formulaic performers the day before, but I'm just not into their stuff.  At least, I wasn't until they started dipping into their back catalogue.  "No Surprises" was the first song to really get my attention.  Back in the nineties, I actually used to like them - especially OK Computer.  This, then gave me the constitution to get through the show's later, more experimental stuff.  "Just keep watching Phil", I repeated.

When they finished "There There" and left the stage, I actually found myself wanting more.  The stage lights remained on and the roadies walked around touching things in such a random way, that I knew there would be an encore - there was.  They stepped out, picked up their instruments, and began playing "Let Down".  I knew this song well, but I hadn't heard it in about 15 years.  I felt my face turn red and my mind was flooded with memories.  It seemed like I was back at the old apartment with two little babies crawling around - the same two that were now grown and lost in the crowd in front of me.  It was a sudden and surprising response to a piece of music and I experienced a very private moment surrounded by 30,000 people.  I just sat there in the darkness staring at the stage with tears streaming down my face.

They played "Present Tense" next and then launched into "Paranoid Android".  I love that song, mainly for the apeshit ending.  At this point, I was all in.  They finished with Karma Police and the elated crowd began to disperse.  Afterward, I waited for my kids to find me.  They did and we began to head for the exits.  Cam said that people in the crowd were actually crying.  I said, "Really?  That is so weird."

I've read that Thom Yorke said that the lyrics of "Let Down" are "about the feeling that you get when you're in transit but you're not in control of it - you just go past thousands of places and thousands of people and you're completely removed from it."  I'd say that was an apt description of that moment Friday night.