1995: The Bends, Radiohead

By Ariana Lenarsky

On Monday, August 20th, 2001, Radiohead played to a sold-out crowd at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, California, where, like a genius, I worked as a program seller, as I would for all seven of the sacred summers of my teenage years. My job was to roam up and down the aisles with an enormous stack of programs screaming, PROGRAMS! ONE DOLLAR! When I was done screaming, I would go stand behind the seats that ran for hundreds or even thousands of dollars a pop, about a hundred feet from the stage, and watch all of the best bands on earth for free.

But on Monday, August 20th, 2001, I did not watch the sold-out Radiohead show for free. I had never even heard of Radiohead. I thought they were a heavy metal band, like Motörhead. Metal didn’t appeal to me, as I saw myself as more of a subtle person, introspective, even whiny at times. I liked emotional singer/songwriters, or experimental bands with synths and guitars. That wasn’t Radiohead, I assumed. So instead of watching the heavy metal band Radiohead at a distance of about a hundred feet or so for free (who, for context, were knee-deep into the third leg of their Kid A/Amnesiac tour), I decided to take the day off. I probably spent the night reading Harry Potter or something. Later I would learn they played 35 minutes longer than expected, and graciously performed two encores. 

The next night, I was confronted by some of the other program sellers, who were older teenage boys with names like Bryce, Brian, and Bryan with a Y. They demanded to know why I hadn’t watched Radiohead when I had the fucking chance? 

I looked curiously from face to face and uttered the catastrophic sentence that would change my life forever.

 “Oh…uh…is Radiohead… good?”

They grabbed at their heads in horror and pain, as if they had just watched me get hit by a train. I had hurt myself. If only they had known … Maybe one of them could have saved my life. The next day, Bryan with a Y drove me to RadioShack with the focus of a paramedic taking a dying woman to the hospital to receive the only thing that would inoculate me against future blight:

 The Bends (1995)

“This is the best Radiohead album,” Bryan said firmly. I believed him. He was very soft-spoken, even shy. I had never seen him this passionate before. I solemnly thanked him, and then I didn’t open the CD for another six months. 

//

It's the best thing that you've ever had

The best thing you have had is gone away

“What a beautiful poem,” I thought. My friend Amanda had added it to her AOL profile. Who dared to write something so sad? Was it Sylvia Plath? The Dave Matthews Band? I confronted her the next day at school. 

“It’s Thom Yorke,” she said.

I told her I didn’t know who that was.

 Her eyes widened. Then she lowered her eyelids and focused her gaze. I was obviously in peril. She was going to save my life. 

“I’ll make you a mix,” she said gravely. 

The next week she showed up to school with nine mixtapes - not just of Radiohead, but of other artists I needed to have in my system, like A Perfect Circle, Neil Young, Mary J. Blige, and the filler tracks from the self-titled album of a mysterious band she called “3eb” (I would later learn this was Third Eye Blind). 

I dimly understood I had a treasure trove in my innocent mitts, and I listened to the tapes over and over again. One song I really liked was an acapella track by the USC Sirens, an all-female college group, called “High and Dry.” The soloist soared and dipped and sang like she had nothing to lose. As a seasoned acapella singer myself, I wisely ascertained it was a cover, as most acappella pop songs are. I decided to ask Amanda who originally recorded it.

“Ariana, that’s Radiohead!” she said. She stared at me with concern. Maybe I wasn’t going to make it after all. “It’s on The Bends?” 

“Ohhh!” I said, struck by an amazing coincidence. “I actually have that album. Maybe I should…listen to it!”

Great work. That afternoon I walked home, feeling smart, even excited. My mom wouldn’t get off work for another 2 hours. My younger brother was nowhere to be found. I would have the house all to myself. 

When I got home, I unearthed The Bends from the depths of my desk and stared at it. The cover was weird. Disturbing, even. It looked bad. But I couldn’t keep putting this off. It was time to know the truth. 

I clicked the CD down onto the small black knob of my player, closed the lid, and pressed play. I braced myself, in case I was about to hear something Metallica-esque.

A whoosh of wind began to blow out of the speakers, like the gust at the end of Bohemian Rhapsody. Through the back window of my house, a beam of late afternoon light shot through and struck me soft and warm in the chest where I stood, unmoving, my eyes unfocused, the music finally blooming into my world, a world where I was finally, thankfully, ready to listen.

Ariana Lenarsky is a writer, musician, and tarot reader in Los Angeles. Book a reading at dreamcitytarot.bigcartel.com.