Getting Inside Hymn -- Reckoner

Reckoner
by Radiohead

Reckoner

You can't take it with you

Dancing for your pleasure

You are not to blame for

Bittersweet distractor

Dare not speak its name

Dedicated to all you all human beings
Because we separate like ripples on a blank shore (in rainbows)

Because we separate like ripples on a blank shore (in rainbows)
Reckoner

Take me with you

Dedicated to all you all human beings

Huh??

I'm not even going to pretend that I know what these lyrics are about. I can take a stab at what the lyrics are supposed to elicit: detachment, yearning and loss. Then again, that description can sum up the entire Radiohead catalog.

Before getting into the song, I think I should first give my take on Radiohead as a band. My history with them dates back to about 1995, when The Bends came out. The ensuing love affair can be explained in three words: Fake. Plastic. Trees. Upon hearing Thom Yorke's beautiful, powerfully vulnerable voice on that track, I was hooked. The entire album, in my opinion, is near perfect. The sound was a haunting mix of lavish layers and grinding rawness. It was the church and the sump behind it. This contrast connected with me to the degree that The Bends became a defining album in my musical life.

Their follow-up, 1998's OK Computer, took my appreciation to a new level. Even more isolated and ambitious than The Bends, OK Computer pretty much blew me away. As a whole, the album isn't as consistent as its predecessor, but the highs are unparalelled. Songs like Paranoid Android, Let Down, Karma Police and No Surprises play down in an endless loop in the part of my brain that I like to occasionally visit (but wish I could live in). So, it's fair to say that Radiohead became a very important band to me.

Yet, I haven't bought a Radiohead album since.

It's part of my emotional makeup to try to preserve what I hold most dear. To me, once something reaches that exalted level, there's no place left to go but down. For the same reason, I haven't seen a Wes Anderson movie since The Royal Tannenbaums. Or been to a strip club since a marathon lap dance from a Russian named Svetlana (though that was probably just her stripper name).

So, I'm a huge Radiohead fan that chooses to idolize them from a safe distance. And that's not to say that I avoid their post-OK Computer stuff. I just don't actively seek it out. They've created some really good music in the last ten years, with a few songs that rival some of their best. But that self-preservation mechanism inside me refused to let the music all the way through.

That was until I heard Reckoner.

From the crashing cymbals to the haunting bassline to the ethereal falsetto of Yorke's voice, Reckoner encapsulates what makes Radiohead great to me: a juxtaposition of joy and sadness, celebration and lament. You want to dance and hide beneath the covers at the same time. The lyrics, usually a key component to a great song, are inconsequential. It's more of a soundscape than a song. The sonic layers are transe-inducing, allowing it to seep in without your knowledge.

The best way to experience this song is at full blast through your headphones. And again to Radiohead's rare abilities, you can listen to it in any given setting and get your desired outcome. As a workout song, it kicks ass. As a wind down song, it soothes you. As a background song, it provokes thought. If songs were relationships, Reckoner could be like your best friend.

In actuality, Reckoner reunited me with a close friend that I lost touch with for ten years. It's nice to reconnect, even if only for a few minutes.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go out and rent The Life Aquatic on the way to the strip club.