In 1993, Radiohead had the look of a pale, one-hit wonder from Britain. The group tickled the ear of American radio programmers with a catchy song, “Creep,” that sounded all too conveniently like it was riding the flannel coattails of then-trendy Seattle grunge.
But a follow-up album, “The Bends,” hinted that the quintet had more to offer, and the group’s latest release, “OK Computer,” confirms that a major new voice in ’90s rock has arrived.
Serving up snatches of the old Radiohead — with “Creep” conspicuously absent — alongside broad servings of the new, the band provided a few insights into this astonishing transformation during a rapturously received performance Thursday at the Riviera.
It has taken the band two albums to break free of the confines of formula chord changes and self-indulgent angst, and establish a new vocabulary that places a premium on ominous texture, slow-build mood changes and elaborate, swirling arrangements. “OK Computer”-era Radiohead suggests the pop experimentation of the Beatles, the broad ambition of ’70s progressive rock, the spiritual yearning of a church choir and the intense drama of — I’m not kidding — opera.
The music realizes such rich possibilities primarily because of Thom Yorke’s remarkable tenor voice. He’s a buzz-haired waif in baggy trousers, and could likely pass for a kid loitering in a tube (subway) station back home. But he’s a shamanlike figure onstage. His head shaking violently as though enduring a particularly unpleasant roller-coaster ride, Yorke sang dire, bittersweet lyrics with exquisite control. He turned “Lucky” into an aria as he sailed into the high notes like a heartbroken diva.
Guitarists Jonny Greenwood and Ed O’Brien banged out the Oasis-like chord changes on the older material such as the title track from “The Bends.” But the guitar strings were often incidental to the new stuff, as this adventurous duo manipulated whammy bars, amplifier knobs, effects pedals and the guitar frames themselves to create futuristic soundscapes.
Greenwood, the most rock ‘n’ roll of the scuzzy, malnourished-looking band members with his mop of jet-black hair and tall, lanky frame, also spent a good deal of the show conjuring the sound of bells, violins and choirs on a keyboard. Drummer Phil Selway and bassist Colin Greenwood kept feeding the front line with rhythm oil in carefully considered doses. On “Let Down,” Selway’s sublime understatement accentuated the luxurious latticework of melody lines that flowed from voices, guitars and bass. Here was a musicians’ band that laid its considerable technique at the feet of the songs, and built “Exit Music (For a Film),” “Lucky” and “No Surprises” into sumptuous cathedrals of sound.
Scottish quartet Teenage Fanclub, abetted by a keyboardist, opened with a jingle-jangle set of guitar pop. The bands’ melodies were agreeable enough, but drummer Paul Quinn could have easily been replaced by an amplified metronome for all the variation he was allowed.
