Radiohead's "OK Computer": an extraordinary waterfall

First a poem that I wrote about this Radiohead record.

An avalanche of glass covers you.

The flight of dandelions.

Beyond shelves, a stampede (out of focus) of humans bump into each other.

And life filters in a ray of light

that tastes like fire.

This is an arrest, the Earth mumbles.

Did paranoia make you forget 

about the air bag for the ship? 

Because living in the campaign

is more important.

First autopromote yourself, to exist later.

Intergalactic approval 

gives you this reflection: 

productive matter, 

and that's enough, right?

Don't forget your visa:

I know you're suspicious 

of every climbed wall 

and every planet you've visited.

But your luck (ancient human artifact)

could change 

in the music of the credits.

OK Computer is a universe that turns with elasticity and emotion. In Radiohead's third work we find timeless and perfect music. This is how this album arrives at its 25th anniversary (published on May 21, 1997 via EMI Parlophone and Capitol Records): as art that preserves freshness and power.

Life-giving art that bid farewell to the century that saw it emerge, and at the same time represented the welcome to the twenty-first century. In addition to the fact that the British group built a mobile studio to record this product accompanied by Nigel Goodrich (for whom it was his debut as a producer), it also blurred borders and shook spirits.

Coming back to OK Computer is an overwhelming experience. Muscles clench and hair stands on end at this extraordinary cascade of sounds illustrating the idea of ​​being mortal.