As I stare out the window, I try so hard to extract a coherent thought from the mess that swirls inside my mind. And again, I fail. So I end up selling out and talking about how confused I am, as if it made me seem somehow enlightened just because I admitted something so obvious. Actually, I wanted to talk about The Bends. I haven't heard The Bends in almost three years. And the thought of talking about it sends my frenzied fingers into a frantic fit.

Rarely does an album make itself such an integral part of the basic living experience that when the music is even so much as resurrected in your mind, images of that experience come sailing out of your memory along with the music. If you were to put on say, Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits while cleaning the toilet, chances are if you went back and listened to Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits a year later, you wouldn't think of cleaning the toilet. Do the same thing with The Bends and the toilet will come sailing in, next time you hear it, along with all the rest of the memories you subconsciously "attached" to the album.

As such, The Bends is almost like a sponge, absorbing your very consciousness and imprinting, onto itself, every last nuance of your activity. Next time you reach to squeeze it, all those memories come trickling out, only to be absorbed back into it in a whole different order, along with a set of new ones. When I hear the album now, I think of making biscuits from scratch at three in the morning, flying on a plane through canyons in Diddy Kong Racing, and pining for B.B. Maybe a few years down the road, the album would also remind me of my first week in Virginia... if only I had a copy.

What is "The Bends"?

Aside from being the title of Radiohead's now-cultclassic 1995 album, as well as one of its songs, the exact definition of the Bends is pretty open to interpretation. Based on the song's tendency to transform at unexpected moments and Thom's signature line "Who are my real friends, have they all got the bends? I would think that "The Bends" is merely a euphemism for multiple personality or two-facedness or hypocrisy. The song itself is one that almost anyone could like -- an ideal soundtrack for any victorious moment, be it the moment Rocky raises his hand in victory, Seabiscuit crosses the finish line first or Daniel decks Johnny Lawrence with the crane kick. It also works as music that would precede a victory, as if to evoke the feeling that you know it's coming no matter what. Power chords blast out in abundance for a while before stepping aside to make room for some very unstable (yet accurate) drumming. And every just so often, the song completely collapses into a drum-led rant by Thom Yorke, who suddenly sounds in a drunken stupor as he exclaims a very basic principle of unrequited love frustration -- I wish, I wish, I wish that something would HAPPEN!!!

Many other songs on the album have that same mainstreamish stadium-rocking power, such as the standoffish anthem "Sulk". This waltz-like rocker opens with some kind of "tumbling" guitar effect, and the drums make an incredible entrance, doing the same before every chorus. Thom's vocal sounds at his more human and vulnerable side, but hell if I can make a solid stand on what the lyrics mean! ("Sometimes you sulk, sometimes you burn, God rest your soul when the loving comes.") According to foxy_shy this song boasts a wonderful guitar solo which, for whatever reason, my memory fails to conjure. I'll take his word for it until next this song and I meet!

"Black Star" is another one of those very basic rock songs, bordering on what they call "emo" these days. None too surprising is the obsessive lyric that often accompanies such tunes -- "The troubled words of a troubled mind, I try to understand what is eating you. I try to stay awake, but it's 58 hours since I last slept with you." In contrast, "Bones" veers into upbeat territory with the most insanely angry chorus. Believe it or not, the melody that follows each of the two (identical) lines of the chorus can also be found in some form during certain parts of the instrumental improv at the end of Al Stewart's "Time Passages". Who would've thought?

If you are truly stoked about hearing any of this, though, you'll have to first survive the scintillating precision of opener "Planet Telex". This may just be one of the hardest songs on the planet to describe, yet when listening to it, it's not all that hard to digest. It's got a very "lazy" melody that is both relaxing and grating at once, forcing you to listen again, trying to make sure you heard that chord sequence right. Only then does it carry you into a spacey guitar-led anthem, playing a light melody in a heavy manner. I tell you, it is impossible. Further complicating things is Thom's up-close and abrasive, through-the-megaphone vocal, which sounds angry, horny, and on the verge of dying all at once. "You can force it but it will not come, you can taste it but it will not form, you can crush it but it's always here."

A duo of ballads makes itself present early in the album, so as not to mislead you into thinking that rocking out was the band's sole intent. "High And Dry" seems almost too simple, and strangely unsure if it has truly grasped whatever meaning the expression might hold. While the expression "high and dry" basically means helpless and abandoned, nothing about it implies height or lack of wetness. But still the song separates the two words as if it expects you to take them literally: "Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry." Of course, then one might consider that if he were being left by a lover, he might be driven into getting high, and he wouldn't be able to "get it up", thus leaving him... ya know, dry. The rest of the lyrics seem to imply that the song is about fame getting to someone, though, so it beats the hell out of me.

"Fake Plastic Trees" was one of those songs I had to be "talked" into liking, but once that happened, I had no problem moving on up to loving it. This is easily one of the most accessible songs on the album, not just to Radiohead fans but to anyone. Thom's vocal is so fragile and emotional discussing small examples of the "fake plastic" world -- "He used to do surgery for girls in the 80's, but gravity always wins, and it wears him out." All of a sudden, this ardent gentle melody comes out exploding a la the radio cut of "My Immortal". It's finally time to look inside himself and realize, he is as much a victim as anyone.

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My Fake Plastic Love.
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And It Wears Me Out, it wears me out

When I heard that Thom cried while singing this song once, that was what really did it. I went back and listened more closely to his voice. And dear sweet Jesus, it was almost enough to make me rethink my sexual orientation. (Just for effect!)

Of course, you couldn't possibly have The Bends without "Just". And you can't have "Just" without that DAMN video. This song has one ballsy guitar solo; I mean, I didn't know a guitar could even make a sound that high. Elsewhere, it's a driving, angry anthem with one of my favorite lyrics of all time -- "You do it to yourself, you do, and that's what really hurts, you do it to yourself, just you, you and no one else, you do it to yourseeeeeeeeeeelf" And right there's where the unforgettable ascension of bar chords sends this song barrelling through the window like no tomorrow.

On a side note...

What the hell does the guy say in the "Just" video?
The very act of wondering what the guy says is the equivalent of lying down on the sidewalk. Notice that no one else lies on the sidewalk until the man says "his thing", and that's when everyone lies down, just like that's when everyone starts wondering. Since there is no answer to the question, those people will continue to lie there and never get on with their lives, because they need a definitive answer. It's a brilliant and artistic way of saying that there is no answer, and if you spend your entire life looking for one, you'll never get off the sidewalk.

Doesn't really answer the question of what he says. Maybe he says "It's not my problem."

So back to the album! What remains are a couple more spacey, subtle ditties in the form of "Nice Dream" and "Bulletproof", neither of which strike me as utterly fascinating songs, but both still effectively acting as "memory absorbers" as mentioned above. Paired alongside "Just", "My Iron Lung" makes a fitting sort-of centerpiece with its tinny electric guitar riffs and monstrous detonations of melodic noise toward the end. At the album's closing is a hauntingly gorgeous number called "Street Spirit [Fade Out]" which is essentially the only "toe-tapper" on the entire album. Amidst its twisted arpeggios, swelling string section and subdued percussion, this is yet another song that is just not humanly possible to dislike, no matter what kind of music you get into. It's gorgeous in every way that a song can be.

The Bends is such a diverse taste of musical energy that it doesn't seem like it could possibly all be coming from one band. And yet not once am I ever reminded of any other band while listening. They pile on the heavy guitars, but they never sound like Bush or Metallica. They go all spacey and soft, but they never sound like Duncan Sheik or Travis. They veer off into the pop/rock/emo territory, but never sound like Live or Tonic. They craft insane, spontaneous and random melodies, but never sound like Dave Matthews Band.

The Bends is easily one of the most original, compelling and downright enjoyable albums of all time.

Other Radiohead reviews:
Pablo Honey
Amnesiac
Kid A
Hail To The Thief
OK Computer


Recommended: Yes