Anyone Can Play a Videotape in a Glass House, OR: Why Thom Yorke Will Always Be More Important than Jane Austen

Radiohead is going on tour.

I don't know when exactly (except that it will occur in the year 2012) and I don't know where exactly (except that they will probably only venture inland for Chicago and possibly one Texas location), but I do know that I would travel to any U.S. state or territory to see Thom's dance moves. Because I solidly believe that seeing this (and Jonny's brooding, and Colin's strange face, and Ed's killer collection of effects pedals, and the reflection of my own looming self-actualization in the glint of Phil's bald head) would result in a life change so profound that it would justify any amount of money I could spend on the experience.

I concede that this may be a perfect illustration of a self-fulfilling prophecy — that even if I had a crap seat and Thom was feeling sick that night and thus did not move in a "Lotus Flower" fashion, even if they played nothing from In Rainbows or Ok Computer or Kid A, EVEN if they played their entire set from Pablo Honey (which would really never happen) — I would probably still consider seeing them live to be the single greatest experience of my young life (and I count it as a blessing that David would not even consider becoming offended if I said this without thinking to make an exception clause for our wedding day.)

In a quest to understand my gender's obsession with Jane Austen and why there are entire book clubs (and films about those book clubs) centered around her writing, I have been reading a lot of gothic novels lately. And I enjoy them, I really do. But it all makes me wonder if I am missing something, because I still see more personal literary value in the lyrics on Kid A than I do in every one of the Bronte sister's novels combined — and I am speaking of lyrics that were drawn randomly from a hat because Thom Yorke had writer's block following the release of OK Computer. This is not to say that I see no literary value in Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre. It's just that I don't live on the moors. I don't experience life as a series of misfortunes and injustices and ill-fated, destiny-driven romantic passions. I cannot relate to Catherine Earnshaw (and I pity the spoiled brat who must be able to.) But when Thom Yorke sings "ice age coming, ice age coming",  I know what he means on a visceral level. Radiohead's music can make me feel more than Jane Austen ever could, regardless of whether I understand her books intellectually.

This may be because of the different experience that consuming each entails. Discovering Radiohead was akin to a religious experience for me — I was given In Rainbows by Garreth, who instructed me to listen to it all at once, preferably while lying on the floor in a dark room. So that is what I did. And that album came to represent, for me, a particular process of self-analysis and epiphany-receiving that I have based entire life decisions on. The entire summer before I went on my mission, I listened to In Rainbows at least twice a day while I thought about life and what I wanted to do with mine (usually I was also playing Solitaire while I did this, which seemed to help drive those thought processes.) OK Computer was the theme of my experience in Ecuador — I listened to it every day in the van on the way to the orphanage. I lived through The Bends while studying abroad in Jerusalem, during which time I was exceptionally depressed about things that only a 19-year-old could be exceptionally depressed about. This was followed by an angry, coming-into-my-own phase, which was helped along by Amnesiac; this was followed by a retrospective period in which Kid A became my soundtrack. I didn't fully appreciate Hail to the Thief until I was recently returned missionary and I needed something that could perfectly express how profoundly weird I felt. The King of Limbs came out about a month after I'd gotten home from Portugal — David and I downloaded it to his laptop three and a half seconds after it became available in England, hooked it up to the sound system in the basement of his parent's home and listened to it three times from start to finish as we lay on the cold, low-pill carpet floor on a February night in Ontario. The first time through, we made exclamatory remarks and giggled. The second, we made commentary. The third, we just lay there, silent and awed. And around the time "Codex" hit 0:34 for the third time, I decided I should probably marry the lanky blonde laying next to me on that floor.

Most likely I am being ridiculous to assign such import to one greasy-looking bunch of now 40-somethings who probably never intended to be experienced religiously. But all this is really just an example of why music is the one thing in my life that I could ever love more than reading or writing. A good book can say things I never knew how to say in words I never would have thought to say them in. Writing allows me to assign words to my every passing thought, essentially filing away my life in an indelible system that makes great sense to me. But good music can reach so deep that it validates feelings that can never be expressed in any words. Good music understands. Good music doesn't need to come from common experience to speak to someone, it just needs to come.

I don't think I was really paying much attention at all to "Codex" when we listened to it that third time. But it was still there, the soundtrack for the moment I decided to marry my husband, present in a way that I am rarely even present in my own thoughts. And because that's the role Radiohead has taken in my life, a subconscious, transcendent, immoveable force, I think that if I saw them live, I would probably. . . well, I would probably do exactly what I do at every other concert: stand near the front, nod my head along, close my eyes at the particularly poignant parts and buy a t-shirt at the end. But I would be there, there with the musical expression of every profound thought I have ever had. And if you ever get a chance to be somewhere like that, it's worth a two-day roadtrip to a Santa Barbara amphitheater for.