What To Know
- As Radiohead gears up for a long-awaited European tour in late 2025, The Times once again finds itself at the forefront, dissecting the group’s evolution with the same incisive prose that has made “The Times Radiohead” a byword for thoughtful rock journalism.
- In interviews, the band speaks of music as “a way to process the chaos,” a thread that runs from the anthemic swells of Hail to the Thief (2003) to the pay-what-you-want revolution of In Rainbows (2007).
- ” The Times covered the fallout with nuance, quoting Yorke as he stormed off stage in Melbourne after a pro-Palestinian heckler disrupted a solo show, calling the intruder a “coward” intent on ruining the night for all.
In the pantheon of modern rock, few bands cast a shadow as long and enigmatic as Radiohead. From the raw angst of their early Radiohead songs like “Creep” to the sprawling, electronic tapestries of later Radiohead albums such as Kid A, the Oxfordshire quintet has redefined what it means to make music in an increasingly fractured world. But for British audiences, the story of Radiohead is inextricably linked to The Times Radiohead—that distinctive lens through which the venerable newspaper has chronicled the band’s triumphs, tribulations, and transformative influence. As Radiohead gears up for a long-awaited European tour in late 2025, The Times once again finds itself at the forefront, dissecting the group’s evolution with the same incisive prose that has made “The Times Radiohead” a byword for thoughtful rock journalism.
Radiohead’s Evolution and Artistic Vision
Radiohead’s journey began in the grunge-soaked ’90s, a far cry from the ambient reveries they’d later pioneer. Debut album Pablo Honey (1993) thrust them into the spotlight with the self-loathing anthem “Creep,” a Radiohead song that captured the alienation of a generation. Yet it was The Bends (1995) that hinted at their restless ambition—tracks like “My Iron Lung” and “Fake Plastic Trees” blending Britpop hooks with Thom Yorke’s keening falsetto, signaling a band unwilling to be pigeonholed.
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The true pivot came with OK Computer (1997), a prophetic suite of Radiohead songs that foresaw our digital dystopia. Yorke’s lyrics, laced with paranoia (“Karma Police, arrest this man”), were matched by Jonny Greenwood’s orchestral flourishes and Ed O’Brien’s shimmering guitars. As The Times later reflected in a 2025 retrospective, the album’s “millennial angst” earned it declarations as the greatest ever from Q magazine and Channel 4, cementing Radiohead’s shift from guitar-rock progenitors to sonic architects. By Kid A (2000) and its sibling Amnesiac (2001), Radiohead albums had morphed into experimental odysseys, ditching rock conventions for glitchy electronica and jazz-inflected abstraction. “Everything in Its Right Place” pulsed like a fever dream, while “Idioteque” sampled apocalyptic beats from the 70s—a bold rebuke to post-millennial complacency.
This evolution wasn’t mere reinvention; it was a philosophical stance. Radiohead’s artistic vision, as Yorke has often articulated, grapples with technology’s dehumanizing grip, environmental collapse, and the fragility of the human spirit. In interviews, the band speaks of music as “a way to process the chaos,” a thread that runs from the anthemic swells of Hail to the Thief (2003) to the pay-what-you-want revolution of In Rainbows (2007). It’s this unflinching gaze that elevates Radiohead beyond mere songcraft, turning their discography into a mirror for our unease.
The Times’ Take on Radiohead: Critical Acclaim and Controversy
No outlet has dissected The Times Radiohead quite like The Times itself, offering a barometer for the band’s polarizing genius. Early coverage was effusive: The Bends was hailed as a “masterclass in melodic melancholy,” while OK Computer drew comparisons to Pink Floyd’s conceptual heft, with critics praising its “orchestral ambition” as a salve for ’90s apathy. The Times archives brim with acclaim for how Radiohead songs like “Paranoid Android” layered absurdity atop dread, influencing everyone from Muse to Arctic Monkeys.
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Yet The Times Radiohead narrative is equally attuned to controversy, a hallmark of the band’s refusal to play it safe. The 2017 Tel Aviv gig sparked a firestorm, with director Ken Loach and BDS activists decrying it as complicity in occupation. Thom Yorke fired back on Twitter, defending artistic freedom: “We’re not your proxy.” The Times covered the fallout with nuance, quoting Yorke as he stormed off stage in Melbourne after a pro-Palestinian heckler disrupted a solo show, calling the intruder a “coward” intent on ruining the night for all.
More recently, as Radiohead announced their 2025 tour, tensions resurfaced. Jonny Greenwood canceled UK dates with Israeli musician Dudu Tassa amid “credible threats” from activists, a story The Times broke with empathy for the artist’s plight. Yorke, in a candid Sunday Times interview, admitted he “wouldn’t perform in Israel now,” citing the Gaza conflict’s horrors— a stark evolution from past defenses. The BDS movement’s boycott call for the tour underscores the bind: Radiohead’s politics, woven into albums like Hail to the Thief, invite scrutiny, yet The Times frames it as the cost of integrity in a divided world. As one 2025 piece put it, “Once mocked as gloomsters, Radiohead’s winter tour will be the hot ticket—controversy be damned.”
Iconic Radiohead Albums That Redefined Rock
Radiohead albums stand as monoliths in rock history, each a reinvention that pushed boundaries. OK Computer remains the gold standard, its Radiohead songs dissecting alienation with symphonic precision—think the seven-minute epic “Paranoid Android,” a triptych of fury and fragility that The Times once called “the thinking person’s Bohemian Rhapsody.”
Then came Kid A, a rupture that confounded fans expecting OK Computer sequels. Leaked online pre-release, it debuted at No. 1 anyway, its icy synths and warped vocals on tracks like “How to Disappear Completely” earning Pitchfork’s highest praise as “the sound of the future.” The Times noted its prescience amid Y2K fears, though some decried it as “soulless”—a critique the band wore as a badge.
In Rainbows (2007) flipped the industry on its head, its “name your price” model inspiring artists from Nine Inch Nails to Taylor Swift. Songs like “Nude” and “Reckoner” blended Yorke’s haunted croon with Greenwood’s strings, a Radiohead album that felt both intimate and infinite. Later works like The King of Limbs (2011) and A Moon Shaped Pool (2016) delved into loop-driven rhythms and orchestral heartbreak, with “True Love Waits” finally finding a home after two decades in limbo. These records didn’t just redefine rock; they blurred it into electronica, jazz, and ambient, birthing subgenres in their wake.
The Band’s Cultural Impact Beyond Music
Radiohead’s reach extends far beyond Radiohead songs and albums, imprinting on culture like a glitch in the matrix. Their eco-activism—Yorke’s climate anthems and the band’s carbon-neutral touring—has mobilized fans, influencing movements from Extinction Rebellion to Billie Eilish’s sustainable ethos. Visually, their cryptic artwork, from Stanley Donwood’s dystopian murals to the In Rainbows paywall experiment, prefigured NFT debates and fan-driven economies, as explored in a 2025 Times exhibition review.
Politically, Radiohead embodies the artist’s thorn: their Israel stance drew A-listers like Roger Waters into the fray, while Hail to the Thief‘s Bush-era rage echoed in protest playlists worldwide. Academically, theses dissect OK Computer as Orwellian prophecy; cinematically, Greenwood’s scores for Paul Thomas Anderson films carry Radiohead’s eerie DNA. In The Times Radiohead canon, this impact is framed not as celebrity, but as quiet insurgency—a band that whispers truths the world strains to hear.
What’s Next for Radiohead
As October 2025 chills the air, Radiohead’s return feels seismic. Their first tour in seven years—11 dates across Europe, from London’s O2 to Berlin’s Tempodrom—promises a reckoning with grief and renewal. In a rare Sunday Times sit-down, the band opened up: the hiatus stemmed from depression, the 2016 death of producer Godfrey, and pandemic isolation. “The wheels had come off,” Yorke admitted, but rehearsals reignited the spark.
New music? “We’re not ruling it out,” Greenwood teased, hinting at sessions post-A Moon Shaped Pool. Fans clamor for deep cuts—”Let Down,” perhaps, or a Hail to the Thief revival—amid boycott whispers. Yet Radiohead endures, their legacy a beacon in rock’s wilderness. As The Times aptly surmises, they’re not just survivors; they’re seers, turning tomorrow’s shadows into today’s symphonies. In an era of fleeting hits, Radiohead—and The Times Radiohead—remind us: true art outlasts the noise.
