Radiohead Quotes

Every one of Joel's important songs--including the happy ones--are ultimately about loneliness. And it's not 'clever lonely' (like Morrissey) or 'interesting lonely' (like Radiohead); it's 'lonely lonely,' like the way it feels when you're being hugged by someone and it somehow makes you sadder.

Most people gaze neither into the past nor the future; they explore neither truth nor lies. They gaze at the television.

some things cost more than you realize

I don't care if it hurts I want to have control I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul I want you to notice when I'm not around You're so fucking special I wish I was special

Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there

one day I am gonna grow wings a chemical reaction hysterical but useless hysterical and a let down

If I could be who you wanted, all the time

So how come it looks so beautiful? How come the moon falls from the sky?

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

I'm not living, I'm just killing time.

Recently, I've discovered Radiohead and find them to be quite good. So clearly, I'm some kind of musical retard. (Jonathan Ames, Middle-American Gothic)

No matter what happens now You shouldn’t be afraid Because I know today has been the most perfect day I’ve ever seen.

You'd kill yourself for regognition, kill yourself to never ever stop. You broke there mirror, you're turning into something your not.

There There,” by Radiohead. The hook is “Just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there.

The Summer after high school, when we first met, we make out in your Mustang, to Radiohead, and on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoes, Used to steal your parents liquor, then climb to the roof, Talk about our future like we had a clue, Never thought I'd wondering I'd be losing you In another life, I would be your belle

Limb by limb and tooth by tooth, Tearing up inside of me, Every day, every hour, just wish that I... Was bulletproof

Ambition makes you look pretty ugly Kicking, squealing, gucci little piggy

I'll laugh until my head comes off".

When you were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You're just like an angel Your skin makes me cry

There's always a siren, singing you to shipwreck.

I'm not living, I'm just killing time

And if the world does turn, and if London burns, I'll be standing on the beach with my guitar. I want to be in a band, when I get to Heaven. Anyone can play guitar, and they won't be a nothing anymore...

I want a perfect garden.... I want a perfect soul

And for a minute there, I lost my self.

Still cries at a good film, Still kisses with saliva, No longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick, That's driven into frozen winter shit (The ability to laugh at weakness), Calm, Fitter, Healthier and more productive A pig in a cage on antibiotics.

Are you such a dreamer To put the world to rights? I'll stay home forever Where two and two always makes a five I'll lay down the tracks Sandbag and hide January has April's showers And two and two always makes a five It's the devil's way now There is no way out You can SCREAM and you can shout It is too late now Because... You have not been Payin' attention! Payin' attention! Payin' attention! Payin' attention! You have not been paying attention!

Hannah leaned forward and reached for the dial. The radio hissed, shrieked and blasted a few bars of Mozart before finally settling on Radiohead’s Exit Music (for a Film). Hannah, delighted with her discovery, smiled and slumped back in her seat. She listened to Thom Yorke’s nasally vocals in silence for a couple of verses before joining in. Singing heartily and drumming away on her knees, she was like a ball of energy, and already I felt this energy permeating my own body. I felt as fresh and as happy as I’d been in months. Radiohead ended and became The Stone Roses, who in turn became The Killers. Finally, when they became the hourly news, Hannah rolled her eyes and turned off the radio.

As a rule, we don't like to feel to sad or lonely or depressed. So why do we like music (or books or movies) that evoke in us those same negative emotions? Why do we choose to experience in art the very feelings we avoid in real life? Aristotle deals with a similar question in his analysis of tragedy. Tragedy, after all, is pretty gruesome. […] There's Sophocles's Oedipus, who blinds himself after learning that he has killed his father and slept with his mother. Why would anyone watch this stuff? Wouldn't it be sick to enjoy watching it? […] Tragedy's pleasure doesn't make us feel "good" in any straightforward sense. On the contrary, Aristotle says, the real goal of tragedy is to evoke pity and fear in the audience. Now, to speak of the pleasure of pity and fear is almost oxymoronic. But the point of bringing about these emotions is to achieve catharsis of them - a cleansing, a purification, a purging, or release. Catharsis is at the core of tragedy's appeal.

Reckoner 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

No Surprises A heart that’s full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you, bruises that won’t heal. You look so tired-unhappy, bring down the government, they don’t, they don’t speak for us. I’ll take a quiet life, a handshake of carbon monoxide, with no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, Silent silence. This is my final fit, my final bellyache, with no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises please. Such a pretty house and such a pretty garden. No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises please.

The difference between revolution and defiance is the difference between an overthrow of the existing order and one person's shaken fist. When the former isn't possible, you still have to hold on to the latter, if only so as to remember you're human.

Won't let the creeping ivy Won't let the nervous bury me Our veins are thin Our rivers poisoned We want the sweet meat We want the young blood

Playlist 1. Wild Honey - U2 2. Like Real People Do - Hozier 3. Colorblind - Counting Crows 4. Oh Darling - Gossling 5. Breathing Underwater - Metric 6. Let It Die - Foo Fighters 7. I’m Sorry - Imagine Dragons 8. Fools - Troye Sivan 9. Don’t Mess Me Around - Clare Maguire 10. Heal - Tom Odell 11. Unbreakable - Jamie Scott 12. I’m The Man Who Loves You - Wilco 13. Creep - Radiohead

He says, "It's just a hat." But it's not just a hat. It makes Jess think of racism and hatred and systemic inequality, and the Ku Klux Klan, and plantation-wedding Pinterest boards, and lynchings, and George Zimmerman, and the Central Park Five, and redlining, and gerrymandering and the Southern strategy, and decades of propaganda and Fox News and conservative radio, and rabid evangelicals, and rape and pillage and plunder and plutocracy and money in politics and the dumbing down of civil discourse and domestic terrorism and white nationalists and school shootings and the growing fear of a nonwhite, non-English-speaking majority and the slow death of the social safety net and conspiracy theory culture and the white working class and social atomism and reality television and fake news and the prison-industrial complex and celebrity culture and the girl in fourth grade who told Jess that since she--Jess--was "naturally unclean" she couldn't come over for birthday cake, and executive compensation, and mediocre white men, and the guy in college who sent around an article about how people who listen to Radiohead are smarter than people who listen to Missy Elliott and when Jess said "That's racist" he said "No,it's not," and of bigotry and small pox blankets and gross guys grabbing your butt on the subway, and slave auctions and Confederate monuments and Jim Crow and fire hoses and separate but equal and racist jokes that aren't funny and internet trolls and incels and golf courses that ban women and voter suppression and police brutality and crony capitalism and corporate corruption and innocent children, so many innocent children, and the Tea Party and Sarah Palin and birthers and flat-earthers and states' rights and disgusting porn and the prosperity gospel and the drunk football fans who made monkey sounds at Jess outside Memorial Stadium, even though it was her thirteenth birthday, and Josh--now it makes her think of Josh.

Videotape When I’m at the pearly gates This will be on my videotape, my videotape Mephistopheles is just beneath and he’s reaching up to grab me This is one for the good days and i have it all here In red, blue, green Red, blue, green You are my center When I spin away Out of control on videotape On videotape On videotape On videotape This is my way of saying goodbye Because I can’t do it face to face I’m talking to you before No matter what happens now You shouldn’t be afraid Because I know today has been the most perfect day I’ve ever seen.

Then again: there was not exactly a word for Boris and me... It was just about drowsy air-conditioned afternoons, lonely and drunk, blinds closed against the glare, empty sugar packets and dried-up orange peels strewn on the carpet, "Dear Prudence" from the White Album (which Boris adored) or else the same mournful old Radiohead over and over...

One day I am gonna grow wings A chemical reaction Hysterical and useless Hysterical and Let down and hanging around Crushed like a bug in the ground Let down and hanging around

You want me, well fucking well come and find me I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches And nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

In the immortal words of Radiohead, ‘go and tell the king that the sky is falling in.

listen to Radiohead on my Walkman, read

Knives Out. Radiohead.

All I Need I’m the next act waiting in the wings I’m an animal Trapped in your hot car I am all the days that you choose to ignore You are all I need You are all I need I’m in the middle of your picture Lying in the reeds I am a moth who just wants to share your light I’m just an insect trying to get out of the night I only stick with you because there are no others You are all I need You are all I need I’m in the middle of your picture Lying in the reeds It’s all wrong It’s all right It’s all wrong

sombre, anxious, melancholic, atmospheric, surreal, cold, lonely, cryptic, abstract, apathetic, male vocals, mysterious, dark, nocturnal, complex, mechanical, progressive, lush, disturbing 'Descriptors' - Radiohead - Amnesiac

Karma Police Karma police arrest this man, he talks in maths, he buzzes like a fridge, he’s like a detuned radio. Karma police arrest this girl, her Hitler hairdo is making me feel ill and we have crashed her party. This is what you get, this is what you get, this is what you get, when you mess with us. Karma police I’ve given all I can, it’s not enough, I’ve given all I can but we’re still on the payroll. This is what you get, this is what you get, this is what you get, when you mess with us. For a minute there I lost myself, I lost myself. Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself. For a minute there I lost myself, I lost myself. Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself.

Talk Show Host" I want to, I want to be someone else or I'll explode Floating upon the surface for The birds, the birds, the birds You want me, well fucking well come and find me I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches And nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing You want me, well, come on and break the door down You want me, fucking come on and break the door down I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready...

Last Flowers Appliances have gone berserk I cannot keep up Treading on people’s toes Snot-nosed little punk And I can’t face the evening straight You can offer me escape Houses move and houses speak If you take me then you’ll get relief relief, relief, relief, … And if I’m gonna talk I just wanna talk Please don’t interrupt Just sit back and listen Cause I can’t face the evening straight And you can offer me escape Houses move and houses speak If you take me then you’ll get relief relief, relief, relief, relief… It’s too much Too bright Too powerful Too much Too bright Too powerful Too much Too bright Too powerful Too much

Airbag In the next world war in a jack knifed juggernaut, I am born again. In the neon sign, scrolling up and down, I am born again. In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the universe. In a deep deep sleep, of the innocent, I am born again. In a fast German car, I’m amazed that I survived, an airbag saved my life. In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the universe. In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the universe. In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the universe.

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

in an interstellar burst, i'm back to save the universe

Up above Aliens hover Making home movies For the folks back home Of all these weird creatures Who lock up their spirits Drill holes in themselves And live for their secrets

If you'd been a dog, They would have drowned you at birth.

I try to remind myself of how awesome downloading music used to be. Because now it's about as thrilling as ordering paper towels from Amazon. The more convenient that downloading became, the less fun it was.

Idioteque Who’s in a bunker? Who’s in a bunker? Women and children first And the children first And the children I’ll laugh until my head comes off I’ll swallow till I burst Until I burst Until I Who’s in a bunker? Who’s in a bunker? I have seen too much I haven’t seen enough You haven’t seen it I’ll laugh until my head comes off Women and children first And children first And children Here I’m alllowed Everything all of the time Here I’m allowed Everything all of the time Ice age coming Ice age coming Let me hear both sides Let me hear both sides Let me hear both Ice age coming Ice age coming Throw it on the fire Throw it on the fire Throw it on the We’re not scaremongering This is really happening Happening We’re not scaremongering This is really happening Happening Mobiles skwrking Mobiles chirping Take the money run Take the money run Take the money Here I’m allowed Everything all of the time Here I’m allowed Everything all of the time Here I’m allowed Everything all of the time Here I’m allowed Everything all of the time The first of the children

Paranoid Android Please could you stop the noise, I’m trying to get some rest From all the unborn chicken voices in my head What’s that…? (I may be paranoid, but not an android) What’s that…? (I may be paranoid, but not an android) When I am king, you will be first against the wall With your opinion which is of no consequence at all What’s that…? (I may be paranoid, but no android) What’s that…? (I may be paranoid, but no android) Ambition makes you look pretty ugly Kicking and squealing gucci little piggy You don’t remember You don’t remember Why don’t you remember my name? Off with his head, man Off with his head, man Why don’t you remember my name? I guess he does…. Rain down, rain down Come on rain down on me From a great height From a great height… height… Rain down, rain down Come on rain down on me From a great height From a great height… height… Rain down, rain down Come on rain down on me That’s it, sir You’re leaving The crackle of pigskin The dust and the screaming The yuppies networking The panic, the vomit The panic, the vomit God loves his children, God loves his children, yeah!

The absolute success of these two movements is such that at this stage, "indie" and "yuppie" are meaningless designators. The yuppie aesthetic of connoisseurship has infiltrated everywhere and now there is only--for many of us--either luxury gelato or food made of chemical waste. Ikea, Martha Stewart, and Whole Foods make yuppiedom no longer a chic and extravagant choice but an enforced mode. It's either that or eat at a toxic toilet such as McDonald's. The indie aesthetic is likewise de rigueur. H&M, Urban Outfitters, and American Apparel sell the floppy "Brit on a holiday" look to all Americans. Radiohead and Arcade Fire music is blasted from speakers at stadiums. For many poor souls, there is no alternative to the alternative.

I suspect scotch is something you have to convince yourself to enjoy, like sushi or the last few Radiohead albums, but I can’t deny the result is nice. “You

É por isso que o trabalho gerado pelo conhecimento parece tão abstrato. O artista Stanley Donwood, que fez a arte gráfica de todos os álbuns da banda Radiohead desde 1995, diz que computadores são alienantes porque colocam uma placa de vidro entre você e qualquer coisa que esteja acontecendo. “Você nunca pode tocar de verdade o que quer que faça, a não ser que imprima”, diz Donwood.

Abigail to realize that it was a jazz version of “Creep” by Radiohead.

House Of Cards" I don't wanna be your friend I just wanna be your lover No matter how it ends No matter how it starts Forget about your house of cards And I'll do mine Forget about your house of cards And I'll do mine Fall off the table And get swept under Denial, denial The infrastructure will collapse From voltage spikes Throw your keys in the bowl Kiss your husband 'goodnight' Forget about your house of cards And I'll do mine Forget about your house of cards And I'll do mine Fall off the table And get swept under Denial, denial Denial, denial Your ears should be burning Denial, denial Your ears should be burning (Denial...) Radiohead, In Rainbows (2007)

We have extremely different tastes in music. He likes Radiohead, and the kind of whiney hipster music that I don’t think Republicans are even allowed to listen to. And if we dare like it even a little, the band will be really insulted that any Republican is a fan and issue a statement that said Republican needs to stop listening and or using their music immediately.

suspect scotch is something you have to convince yourself to enjoy, like sushi or the last few Radiohead albums, but I can’t deny the result is nice.

I suspect scotch is something you have to convince yourself to enjoy, like sushi or the last few Radiohead albums, but I can’t deny the result is nice.

L-ai văzut? E un tip tare, nu? Un Dumnezeu de care ai nevoie. Sună a publicitate pentru campania prezidențială. Asta e. Avem nevoie de un Dumnezeu. Un Dumnezeu pentru generația Nirvana, generația 0. Generația Limp Bizkit, Sepultura, Cypress Hill, Aquarium, Marilyn Manson, Zdob și Zdub, Eminem, Radiohead, Salman Rushdie, Dostoievski, Jean Michel Bosquait, Hagi, Federman, Maradona, Henry Miller, Nabokov, Ionesco, Tzara, Urmuz, Bitov...Sunt de-ai noștri, pe-ai voștri țineți-vi-i vouă, că nouă nu ne trebuie! Cu Dumnezeu înainte! Dumnezeul nostru în tricou, nu ăla din înjurături.

You float like a feather," sings Radiohead, "In a beautiful world." I've listened several times to the Radiohead songs, because it was nice of Raymond to say he heard a bit of them in what I sang. I'm not sure I hear it myself, but I am pleased and touched. Sometimes that's what you need, just a quick casual word of knowledgeable encouragement. Radiohead reminds me a little of the songs in Garden State soundtrack. Now, that's a soundtrack. They were all songs that Zach Braff liked, so he put them in his movie. And there's that beautiful moment near the beginning where Natalie Portman hands him the headphones and she watches him listen to the song and she smiles her huge, innocent Natalie Portman smile.

It was horrible and senseless, and I now felt the sudden need to drink scotch, brood, and read Edgar Allen Poe or the ending to Hamlet. Maybe I would top it all off with some YouTube videos of drowning kittens while listening to Radiohead.

Radiohead! Thom (we called him “Thom-with-an-H”) was cute, but it was the guitarist Jonny Greenwood we were really hot for. He was skinny and pale, with brown hair hanging in his eyes, long fingers, and terrible posture. We sat onstage and screamed every time he looked at us, which wasn’t too often (I think he was afraid).

I agree with whoever said [the Spice Girls] are soft porn. They’re the antichrist. —Thom Yorke of Radiohead, 1997

We could listen to Oasis and Radiohead. We could spend the whole weekend lying in your bed.

Fake Plastic Trees” by Radiohead. Everett just wanted to hear the last verse. He could circle the block one more time. Ever since he’d gotten the call, he’d been numb, his chest so frozen that he could barely breathe. His adoptive brothers,

Ce n’était plus Nirvana, mais Radiohead.

Millions of Gen-Xers and Millennials watched the fallout from Bush vs. Gore unfold in the news while Kid A droned on endlessly through their headphones. It was an eerily ideal soundtrack for what seemed like a darker, more foreboding time after the peace and prosperity of the ’90s—a gloomily disorienting fanfare for a new era. Though we had no way of knowing exactly how dark.

For the apocalyptic mind, there isn’t a secular molecule in the universe, no matter outside the scope of its coming kingdom, no nook or cranny exempt from the redemption it announces. Neither Jesus nor any Jewish prophet ever instructed his listeners to merely repent “spiritually.

The thought of Radiohead trashing a hotel room is like imagining the pope autographing Mother Teresa’s breasts.

July had already been a busy month as Twitter had also moved into new offices: a fancy, modern, loftlike space with lots of windows and room to grow. Among the fun features they had added to the office (a living-room setup with a couch and video games, a large red phone booth, and a fully stocked kitchen with cereal and other snacks), Jack had suggested putting in a Radiohead room. “It can play Radiohead twenty-four hours a day!” he said excitedly when suggesting the idea.