Radiohead in 100 (+) gigs

One of the Warrington tent gigs went out live on Radio 1, and this seemed to seal the band’s improved relationship with the station, the weirder they sounded and the less conventional promotion they did, the closer they got to mainstream success. Kid A came out on the Monday, and was by no means a record that immediately made sense, nor was it as complicated and obscure as some of the reviews claimed. Braced for the electronics and prepared for the distorted vocals, to me it is very much a Radiohead album in structure, doubtless if an unprepared listener came to it cold it would be much more complicated. Compared to most of the other mainstream “indie” music around at that point it was dark, dense and layered. But if the band had ever had a manifesto, this was a fulfilment of it.

Radiohead demonstrated some of their diverse influences with a DJ set on the late night Breezeblock show on Radio 1 and made a return visit to Steve Lamacq’s programme before Christmas.

In February the news comes through that Thom and partner have had a child, a boy called Noah. I realised who the pregnant lady at the Glasgow gig was. The penny drops about the picture labelled “mini me” that adorned Thom’s page on the Radiohead.com site about 6 months ago. It all falls into place, but I’m still a little shocked. I worry about what it means. So many songwriters fall into a trap of writing mawkish tributes to their offspring. As someone who is completely child-averse, I immediately think of the novelist’s adage about “the pram in the hall way.” The thought that lodges in my brain is “I hope he still cares about his other children.” I think I mean me and the rest of the freaks.

2001

By the time the TV job ends, I have saved up quite a bit of money and I decide that I don’t want the life that I’d have to live if I struggled to stay working in production. An irreverent show about films was all well and good, but the company also made property shows and pun-inspired shows for Channel 4. “Reality” programmes and celeb-fronted pseudo documentaries are all the rage. I am welcome to submit ideas, but the culture of staying in the office until 11pm every night doesn’t appeal to me. I just don’t have that sort of ambition.

I do a bit of office temping and work on a couple of short film productions,  but I don’t have an idea of my own to film. I realise that I don’t enjoy the concept of day to day work. I’m not ready to submit to the monotony of it yet. I pool all my savings and calculate that I can afford to go to travelling.

Sometime in the summer, Radiohead announce more tour dates. They’re going to be playing in Japan in September and October. My various Japanese friends have been asking me when I’m going to visit them. It seems obvious that it should be for this tour. They offer to show me around, help with hotel bookings and even put me up.  I start to plan a big trip, even if deep down I know it won’t end up being a gap year or even a round the world jaunt…

Amnesiac is released on June 4. In the weeks prior to it coming out, some of the tracks leaked on to Napster, the new internet music phenomenon.  I haven’t been using it, due to slow dial up internet connections. Desperate for a review to meet her magazine’s deadline, Atsuko emails me, I happen to be at my parents’ place at the time and have to deal with an even slower than usual connection. She wants me to try to write a pre-release review of the record and directs me to Napster. I’m not keen, it is clunky and slow. It involves me tying up my parents’ phone line for several hours late into the night. I manage to hear snatches of about three songs; there are more but it’s difficult to tell if they are genuinely from the album. One (Pull/Pulk) sounds so unlikely that I dismiss it as a hoax. Authenticity is not something easy to verify on this internet. Still, I have the live performances to go on and with a bit of imagination and some quotes from the band’s self-service Q&A webpage Spin With A Grin ( Thom: “I think the artwork is the best way of explaining it. The artwork to Kid A was all in the distance. The fires were all going on the other side of the hill. With Amnesiac, you’re actually in the forest while the fire’s happening.”) I blag it, use my muso-skills and piece together something vaguely coherent for her to translate:

If Kid A was staring at the fire from afar then Amnesiac is apparently standing in the middle of the blaze. On opening track Packt Like Sardines you can hear the flames crackling. Like Kid A, this fifth Radiohead LP will need to be listened to more than once to make coherent sense but unlike Kid A, some of the individual tracks have an immediate impact that tells you this is where Radiohead are at.

Pyramid Song – a single! – is possibly one of the most funereally beautiful tracks ever – all layers and floating sounds, reuniting Thom with cars, astral objects and angels (all the things he used to see). It connects the past and the future. Where Kid A seemed difficult to some, Amnesiac has more continuity – but only if you’re aware that the band have been immersed in influences as diverse as Alice Coltrane, Boards Of Canada and Big Band Jazz.

But as ever such theories are shattered by the danceable I Might Be Wrong and the distorted electronic soundscape of Pull/ Pulk, which sees a scared child-Thom trapped and falling through revolving doors. Amnesiac promises lots and delivers more than such a short review can possibly some up. Roll on the live dates.

Increasingly, the internet is the source of my Radiohead news. I’d stopped buying the NME regularly in favour of its free website. Less and less paper amass in the archive.

Follow Me Around, a web site maintained by a Canadian called Beryl and Max K’s Radiohead-Announce mailing list keep me up to date with news, with an email from one or other of them every few days.

The band’s official site remains notoriously oblique. I call in at the fast moving Message Board from time to time, but with dial up it’s tricky to stay long. I’m only interested when the band (who post in blue) pay a visit. I read the archives of their replies to posts.

In March, this news drops:

Radiohead will headline a live event on July 7 in South Park, Headington,
Oxford featuring special guests (to be announced) and Oxford bands.
Tickets are £27.50 and will go on sale at 9 am on Friday March 16 through
the following outlets:

Ticket Line: Radiohead ticket line 0870 730 7305
Website: http://www.radiohead.com
Box Office: The Zodiac, 190 Cowley Road, Oxford OX4 1UE
(There is a booking fee of £2.25 except for cash purchases at the Zodiac
where there will be no surcharge).

The first single from Amnesiac (released on June 4) will be Pyramid Song,
out on May 21st.

Some comments by Jonny from the NME: “Sorry to get all Smashie and Nicey, but we’re doing this concert for local charities, which is kind of why the council are up for it. We asked Beck and he’s agreed to do it. I think he’s going to do a solo acoustic set, which will be great, very exciting. I think Supergrass as well, because they’re fantastic and local. We’re going to try and get Lard [from Radio 1] to open the show.”

He also confirmed that Radiohead have no other UK dates planned this year…

Yasuko (another Japanese friend) is thinking ahead and buys me a ticket.

The rest of the year passes…

There is no where left to stay in Oxford. I travel to London, where I have a friend with a sofa. The London-Oxford buses run all night.

Back into Oxford. My bus arrives in the early afternoon, I miss the stop for Headington just as Keiko phones me (by this time I have a pay-as-you-go Nokia that looks like a big grey lego brick).  She is waiting for me outside the site. I get off and rush back, but I need cash and I have to go all the way up the Cowley Road before I can find an ATM. I run around and find the entrance to the park, but she’s waiting at the box office, all the way over on the other side. I arrive, hot and bothered to find her, my ticket in hand. We say “hi” to Caffy, who is in the press portacabin and we enter the site.

It’s big, like having a festival all to themselves. We find Yasuko and her friend, also over from Japan and I pay her for the ticket she bought me. Keiko and I go to the Merchandise tent and wait for ages because it’s so busy. There are cool shirts made especially for today. “South Park” hence a black shirt with Kenny, Kyle, Stan and Cartman as modified bears. There’s a white shirt with the band drawn by the South Park animators. The first band (either Hester Thrale or The Rock Of Travola) are already on.  We go back to Yasuko but she soon goes off to find a copy of the special edition of Nightshift magazine that someone is giving away. Keiko and I find the shorter beer token queue and then the beer tent, more for the special minotaur cups than for the Fosters inside.

Yasuko doesn’t come back, she’d found a way to get nearer the front. Veteran jazzer Humphrey Lyttleton and his band are on next. They played on Amnesiac and on Later… with the band. They’re sparky and sound great. Humph cracks jokes and the mosh pit respond with “Wham Bam” when required. They play a lot of Duke Ellington. There’s a lovely feeling in the air.

We have more beer and I go for a wander. There is a notice board where people have been leaving messages for each other, mostly using their messageboard aliases. I didn’t realise they knew each other in real life. I eat some rather disappointing falafel and go back to Keiko to watch Sigur Ros, who only play about three songs.

Supergrass are on next, I spend the start of their set in the beer queue but the latter part gets the field rocking. Beck’s acoustic set afterwards isn’t very exciting by comparison. He plays some Hank Williams and his more maudlin stuff from Mutations. We move forward a bit during his set. Keiko leaves me to go and find the toilets. She’s gone for a while and when she returns, she explains that she just bumped into Julie from the management, and she’s given her a wristband for the hospitality area. And when Keiko told her I was here too, she gave her one for me. She’s also put us on the list for the party that’s happening at the Zodiac later on… “Lucky or what?”.

I rush off to use the hospitality toilets and also run into Julie and her partner John. We have a quick chat and then I go back, as the loos are the best bit of any outdoor hospitality area. It keeps trying to rain and Keiko has got a special rain cape as well as one of the Yellow cagoules that the band have made specially for the day. My own coat is turning out not to be very waterproof.

After Beck’s done, I’m starting to feel a bit claustrophobic and I leave Keiko to wade a little further into the crowd while I settle for being able to see both the stage and the big screens which are at the half way point. Back here I’m surrounded by older fans and aging hippies. The Inkspots play on the PA, which means the band are due. Marc “Lard” Riley introduces them, but I can’t really hear what he says. Radiohead appear, go straight into The National Anthem and I’m ready.

The bass! I’m dancing my arse off and then keep going for Airbag. Packt Like Sardines comes next, it moves like a train, I’m hearing it live for the first time and it all starts to make sense. My Iron Lung is in there somewhere and I still love it. There’s lots of tambourine on Dollars & Cents and I Might Be Wrong. Lucky is spine-tingly; Pyramid Song, which I love. Thom is face on to the camera at the piano. Everything In Its Right Place starts off as Beck’s Nobody’s Fault and then samples the crowd.

“Bugger!” in a silly voice is Thom’s expletive of choice when he makes a mistake. He’s having trouble with lyrics, gets How To Disappear back to front, “Are we the only ones that are nervous?” Paranoid Android is dedicated to Geri from the Spice Girls who had been sitting next to them on the train back from Paris. No Surprises is for Tony Blair, then he forgets the words to The Bends but the crowd take it.

They encore with Fake Plastic Trees and Karma Police. I’m soaked with rain but euphoric.

They come back again and Thom announces, “This one is to send you off with bluebirds in your hair.” And he tries a couple of bars of Motion Picture Soundtrack on the synth. The rain as got into it. “It’s Kaput, Jah?”

He abandons the synth. “OK change of plan.” He whispers something to Plank. “This is an old one, you might remember. We might…” and they play it!

Creep. He hams up the “perfect body” line and dramatizes the verse, but they’re actually playing it, and no one thought they would. The ‘kerchunk’ from Jonny’s guitar is awesome, more so for having been missing of so long. I screamed after I’d stopped laughing. It was a wonderful way to end. By now it’s raining properly. Keiko finds me, she’s in tears, but grinning.

By the time we make it into the hospitality area I am soaked to the skin. Fortunately I have put spare clothes in my backpack and even more fortunately they’re inside a plastic bag, as the zip has bust on the pocket of the bag and water has seeped inside. Once in the ladies portacabin I peel off my wet top and replace it with a dry one as fast as I can. I wring about a pint of water out of the shirt I’ve just taken off.

We find a spot in the hospitality tent and sit on the floor, it’s dark and no one that Keiko is waving at can see us. We move to chairs and watch the comings and goings. Jonny and Colin with various members of their families, Ed and Phil with their friends. Thom is around, talking to people, a girl who grabs his arse is seen off, but unusually he’s giving autographs. He doesn’t stay for long. It feels like the end, I’m wet and I’m tired. Fairly soon we end up outside again. Caffy and her chums are heading for the Zodiac and then I remember what Keiko said earlier about a party. There is a crowd and I don’t recognise the route in the dark.  We’re making our way. Just when I think we’re lost, Phil taps Keiko on the shoulder and we follow him. She’s on the list and we’re in.

It’s cold inside until people start dancing. I join Caffy and her mates on the floor for Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin), some hip hop and Stevie Wonder’s Superstition and feel a bit more warmed up. I need to sit down after that and drink some water.

Thom is at the bar. I restrain myself from running over, as he’s talking to someone. When I spot an opening, I wave and when he spots me he comes over. I start a wave salute gesture, that turns into a complex hand shake but he goes in for a hug. It’s a big squeeze.

“How are you?” I ask.

“A bit emotional!”

I affirm that I’m feeling the same, but I can’t really speak after that hug. I take him over to where Keiko is and they hug too. He’s drinking water and when Keiko examines it, a gesture that expresses her surprise that he’s not drinking booze, he makes a baby rocking motion and pulls a daffy face. She congratulates him and he appears to be playing with his watch. It turns out it’s got a screen that holds a photo of the baby on it. He takes it off so Keiko can have a better look.

When he leaves for the bathroom, I manage to ask him to come back, as Keiko wants a photo. When he returns I still can’t speak much, but I tell him I screamed and fell over at the end of the show. It’s getting too loud in the club for talking. Keiko steps in and gives me her camera, I take one of the two of them and the flash is a bit harsh. I stand behind him, propping him up and she snaps us. He goes to find other people, saying “See you later.” But we have to leave. I make a sign for a keyboard and ask him if he still gets his email. “Of course!”

We do our funny handshake and I head for the door. Tim is outside. I give him a hug too. He says Belfast (the only other UK gig this year) isn’t confirmed yet. I tell him I’ve been invited to Japan for the dates there and he seems to approve. After assuring him that we have a plan for getting to our beds we head for the bus stop. Caffy and pals are already there. It’s about 3am…

Victoria is deserted when I get back into London. My friend lives in Pimlico and I walk down the traffic-less street, past Westminster Cathedral and past Scotland Yard and Channel Four’s HQ. I can’t feel my feet on the ground. Back in my friend’s flat I wake her up and start telling her about the day at one hundred miles an hour… I don’t remember sleeping.

Sunday morning, I wander the record shops of Soho in a daze. It’s one of those days when everything feels like it was meant to happen. I find all the records I’ve been searching for, I have a conversation sparked by my South Park T shirt. The guy behind the counter in the shop says something about bluebirds in your hair and it turns out he was there too…I am still grinning and I go on doing so for the rest of the week.

 

Without reliable internet at home, I have been calling in to use a friend’s computer to check my email and catch up with news sites. I have been lurking the Radiohead website’s message board but so far haven’t really got to grips with it. I notice that the same group of people post messages there fairly regularly – they must have the internet at work. In the afternoon of September 11th, I stop by to check my email and then can’t understand why none of the major news sites are working. I log into the message board and am alerted to the reason why the news sites traffic has gone into meltdown. I turn on the TV just as the second plane hits the towers.

The board goes into overdrive as New Yorkers, just arriving at work, try to establish the whereabouts of friends who might have been in the vicinity of the World Trade Centre.

The next few days take on a surreal quality. Caffy sends me a ticket for the Belfast gig. I have cheap flights booked and a friend who lives in the city with whom I can stay. She is also going to the show. With all the mayhem that ensued following the attacks, there is some doubt about whether the show is going ahead. I consult the message board hoping for some sort of official word and end up conferring with other fans who are going to the show. I email W.A.S.T.E. but they can’t tell me for certain if the show will go ahead. I decide to risk it.

My reaction to the global crisis is tempered by a recent, unexpected family bereavement. I am more effected by this personal, unrelated death than by what is happening in the wider world, all the disruption just adds to my sense of dislocation and nervousness.

Some of the “boardies” have arranged to meet up in a pub in Belfast before the show and I agree to meet people that I have been talking to, at least if the show doesn’t go ahead we won’t have had an entirely wasted journey. I’m not keen on flying at the best of times, but with heightened security measures, two pat-down searches and no small amount of extra paranoia, I make it to Belfast.

While my friend Karen is at work, I go to meet the boardies in the Crown Liquor Saloon, a magnificently ornate bar near the Europa hotel. They have chosen the place partly for its décor and partly because it has a web cam… it makes it a fitting place for people who have until now only met online to rendezvous. It is the first time most of them have met each other in person and the first time I’ve met people I’ve only spoken to on the internet. I have a pint or two of Guinness with five or six boardies and their various friends, most of whom I have exchanged threads with on the board, but a few of them are new to me.

Everyone is here especially for the show and most have travelled to see the band before. My friend joins us after work and they bombard her with questions about Belfast, which she finds amusing as she’s only just moved here herself. They leave early to get to the front at the gig, but as I have press tickets for seats, we aren’t in so much of a rush to get there.

As a one-off UK date amid the tail-end of a Northern European tour, this show at the Odyssey Arena is a large scale but strangely low key event, the boardies and other faithful have raced to be at the front. From where we are in the seats, the venue, which is a big ice hockey stadium, feels like a hangar. I’m side-on to the stage, Jonny-wards. It’s packed but the atmosphere is oddly sombre. Today has been declared a national day of mourning but we’re here now and the show will go on.

Anti Pop Consortium are the support, but no one is familiar with any of their stuff and they play without anyone really noticing them. When Radiohead emerge, the impact of the opener National Anthem is blunted by its being followed by the instrumental Hunting Bears, however momentum picks up again with an intense Morning Bell and My Iron Lung. Ed is wearing a stripy woolly beanie hat, and some of the boardies are heckling him about it.

Street Spirit is dedicated to “Americans trying to get home” and there seems to be no need to mention the current state of affairs again. Now is not the moment for politics.

I don’t have sufficient room to stand up without blocking other people’s view, so I end up dancing in my chair, a weird bum-shuffle that involves banging my knees on the rail in front of me. I Might Be Wrong, after a false start where Jonny’s guitar won’t work, sets me really moving. They play Pyramid Song next and I feel suddenly subdued. This song fits how I’m feeling: sad, angry, but at the same time more determined than ever to live my life by my own rules. I find I am crying my eyes out. I’m glad then, when they follow it with a noisy rendition of Paranoid Android which allows me to pull myself together with some more jerky chair dancing.

By now it’s become the custom to end the main set with the long build up and break down of Idioteque followed by Everything In Its Right Place. Jonny creates loops, Phil drops in the extra off-beat and Thom leaves the stage first, letting the song deteriorate one band member at a time. It echoes around the venue and from my perch up in the seats I can see the people I met earlier cheering for an encore. They are rewarded with three – Like Spinning Plates is turned back inside out from the reversed sampled album version and Thom performs a solo acoustic True Love Waits. A finale of How To Disappear Completely nearly sets my tears off once more. The line about the Liffey gets a huge cheer from the locals.

I am dishevelled and exhausted. There is an aftershow in a small room in the bowels of the building and I manage to get my friend in. We sit in a corner with some beers. We are befriended by a manic American girl, who without any prompting starts telling us her increasingly disturbing recent life story. She is stranded, flights back to the US being yet to return to anything even close to normality. She has a large bag and has apparently brought a selection of books on politics to give to Thom. He is avoiding getting involved in a long conversation with her and is busy with some other people. When he’s with Tim, I pop over to say hello and try to explain my plans for Japan. Tim confirms that I won’t need tickets and that he’ll be there to sort me out for any shows I want to attend. He thinks I’m crazy, but seems to be quite pleased that I’m making the trip, Thom tells me I’ll get to see what the really mental fans are like. I have a weird tangential conversation with him about airport security checks. One of the buttons came off my coat when I was searched earlier and it somehow that seems important now. He asks if that’s why my coat is so creased and I feel affronted (I am rather proud of my orange duster coat, but it suffered from getting soaked at South Park, it obviously hasn’t recovered.)

I feel like I’m superfluous to requirements tonight, there is nothing else to say. My friend and I finish our beers and go outside. The American woman was on the point of getting thrown out, she is in a state of anxiety, tonight having been even more emotional for her than it would have normally, and we persuade her to come with us. We walk her back into the city centre through the encroaching fog and drop her at her hostel. As we cross the river Lagan, walking back to my friend’s flat, my enthusiasm has picked up again. I’m on a high knowing that I can get into the gigs in Japan and that it’s not a completely crazy idea after all.

After consuming the best Chinese meal of my life and many “Gintonics”. My hosts introduce me to the delights of proper Japanese karaoke. We murder a few Radiohead numbers while we’re at it, then we all spend the night in a rather anonymous hotel in the centre of Osaka.

About 11am, next day, we take the courtesy bus from the railway station to the Imperial Hotel, which is on the other side of town. Keiko has had a tip off from her contacts on the crew: the band are staying here. She’s booked a room here herself. She checks in and we meet up with Izzy. We hang about in the lobby trying, but probably failing, to look incongruous.

I need coffee or tea, my caffeine habit is making me antsy, so I go in search of a convenience store. The girls think the band will definitely be here today, so they don’t want to leave. I return after half an hour with a bottle of cold sweet coffee drink and a doughnut. Tim and Jonny have been and gone. I sit down and read my guide book. At 1pm the organ in the café below the lobby starts playing (is it automatic?).

As if on cue the band gradually start to appear. Thom comes over to us (of course he does, says Keiko). Tim spots me and seems surprised, but once I assure him that I wasn’t kidding – I’m really here, he makes sure we’re all on the guest list for tonight’s show. Thom takes a gift from the Katharine Hamnett shop from Keiko and tells her he’s already had a day off in Tokyo to look around the shops. He has a yoga mat in his bag, and when Keiko asks what it is, I say something about my mum doing yoga and how it knocks years off you. “Well as you can see…” says Thom, looking very jetlagged. When I tell him I feel a bit ropey due to last night’s karaoke, he says “Sake?” Before I can explain he tells me that Colin drank his way through a selection of sakes and had the worst hangover he’d had in 10 years.. .“You have to try it!”

They leave the hotel and everyone waves them off. The four of us go for a walk through a very long underground shopping arcade. Osaka is full of malls. We eventually find a sushi restaurant with a conveyor belt. I try some and catch up on my tea drinking. The girls show me a huge slot machine arcade and then we have ice cream. Back at the hotel we head to the room they’ve splashed out on, we watch a bit of TV and Keiko has a nap. Izzy goes out, I crack open a beer and we wait for it to be time to head to the venue.

Later we take a taxi to Osaka-Jo, the arena is at the castle. There are food stalls and bootleg shirts and carefully organised queues for the official W.A.S.T.E. merchandise. Everyone else is buying stuff, but I duck out and find Katsu (Keiko’s boyfriend) waiting for us. We suss out the guest list and get our passes sorted for later. My ticket is for the 15th row, it’s seated but it’s not a bad view.

Clinic are the support here and they do their thing, as they’re wearing their hospital masks the Japanese just think the whole band have caught colds. At 8pm, very much on time, Radiohead hit the stage and start with National Anthem and it doesn’t matter that I’m sweaty, that I’m having a bad hair day, that I haven’t eaten since the sushi – I’m bloody well in Japan, I’m actually here!

The only audience noise is polite and in-between songs, there is a bit of whooping, there are a few Americans and Aussies in the crowd, about the same as the number of Japanese at a British gig. Someone heckles – “play some jazz!” and Thom points at Jonny. They play Spinning Plates and then Talk Show Host which sounds all over the place.

After the show, I feel very sticky so I change into one of the T-shirts I bought in Tokyo the other day. We are shown to the aftershow, it feels like we’re in a loading bay, but apparently this is it. The party is in a hallway. Tim comes by and we agree that this is just as glamorous as usual.

There are some folks from EMI Japan, but not many other people. Eventually a tray of soft drinks, tiny cups of orange juice and something called Pocari Sweat, arrives. The band appear one by one, Thom last as ever, they have got some white wine on the go.. s’alright for some…
Thom comes and stands next to me, the only non-band English person. He says hi to Keiko and Izzy. Phil comes by and looks surprised to see me, “You’re everywhere!”
“Well,” I say, “I couldn’t refuse a free tour of Japan!”

“Neither could I,” he says, “And I’m getting paid for it.” I explain to him that I’m going to Australia after this, I’m not just here for the gigs and he seems to approve.

Thom is surrounded by two geeky guys from, I think, San Francisco, who ask relentless questions about bootlegs and live CDs, he can hardly get a word in. They are talking about the show and he says they were trying to do Talk Show Host without the clicks (the guide rhythm) and it all got a bit lost somehow. I agree and have to join in the geek-out, because these boys aren’t going anywhere. I’ve never known Thom to be particularly into technical chat, what they don’t seem to realise is that he isn’t a fan, he’s in the band. Is he really going to know or care about the bootleg CDs that people circulate? Eventually a lady from EMI whisks him over to a group of people he has to meet. Izzy and Keiko talk to Ed.

When he comes back Keiko takes his picture with her phone and the EMI woman tries to stop her, “It’s OK,” says Thom, “She’s a special case.”

Outside we wait around by a fountain, I’m very tired all of a sudden. I find Yasuko, who I now realise wasn’t at the aftershow. She says she wants to stay out and gives me directions back to last night’s hotel, my budget doesn’t stretch to a night in the posh place where the band are staying. I catch the train but get stuck at the wrong exit at the station and have to take a taxi the rest of the way. I take a bath and watch an American sitcom, Dharma and Greg, if I remember rightly, much improved for being dubbed into Japanese, before I collapse into sleep.

Yasuko and I walk through the underground mall to avoid the rain, have breakfast in a café and then catch the courtesy bus back to the Imperial Hotel.

We are going to stay in the hotel tonight, we are sharing with Atsuko, if we split the twin room three ways it’s only a little bit more expensive than the very basic place we stayed at last night. We can’t check in until 2pm, so we go to Keiko and Izzy’s room and find them just getting up. We all go out and meet Katsu in another mall, Hep 5, it has a Ferris wheel attached. We look around Snoopy Town, a shop entirely dedicated to characters from the Peanuts cartoon. Then we all have frozen yoghurt in the Lovers of Yoghurt shop. We head back to the hotel in time for the 1 o’clock organ and discover there is actually a person down there playing.

I’m sitting on a sofa, nonchalantly looking at my book and the others are scattered around the lobby. Thom is at the check-in desk, he’s early for once and then he comes and sits on a stool in front of me and has a moment. He’s a bit hung-over, a bit tired, he’s had about 4 cups of coffee (“it’s not strong enough”), it must be jetlag and I mutter something about my own insomnia and then wish I hadn’t when he looks concerned and says, “That’s not good.”

The others descend on us to say their hellos and give him gifts, then Thom shows us some of the cool stuff he’s bought this morning in Tokyu Hands hardware store. Jonny bought a coat for his very small dog. Thom shows us a sign with a crossed out mobile phone (which will end up on stage later on the back of the Rhodes organ) apparently it translates as ‘NO mobiles in the hospital’; he has a selection of stickers and he says they are destined to go on his guitar. One has a sleeping baby, that’s for Noah. He leafs through the pile of stickers to show the others and then passes them to me. He asks me if I’ve been to the shop yet and I tell him I did briefly, he comes to a blue sticker with a panda on it that bears the legend ‘I miss you’ and I make an appreciative noise (I have a thing for pandas). “You can keep it,” he says, “I’ve got more.”

More girls appear with gifts and want autographs. Izzy has a copy of Cut magazine from last year with loads of Stanley’s Kid A artwork in it. “Sign your favourite one.” Thom hasn’t seen it before and begins leafing through the pages. He turns to the flying bears one, which I say is my favourite, although we agree it’s a little weird now after New York and everything. And then he realises that the next picture is actually called World Trade Centre. “Fuckin’ ‘ell!” we both say.

We agree that there is some dark stuff in Stan’s brain. Keiko produces special pens and gets Thom to draw on her phone and he does elaborate Os and signs things for the others, I don’t have anything handy for him to draw on. The promoter shows up and it’s time to leave. Izzy says he was a “Chimpira” (a jerk) for not realising who we were, didn’t see Thom with us, was rude to her. I demonstrate how to react to such treatment with a hard stare. I teach her how to say “Don’t you know who I am?”.

We retire to Keiko’s room and slowly get ready. We meet Atsuko at Osaka-Jo station. I’d forgotten how tiny she is, but it’s good to see her. We talk a lot. We walk to the venue and realise that the doors open very early – 5pm for 6. We check the guest list and collect passes for all of us. We sit in almost the same seats as last night, all in the same row. On the way I eat a skewer of yakitori and drain a bottle of coke but it only goes a small way to countering my headache, I don’t think I’ve been getting enough caffeine.

Clinic are hard work the second night in a row but their allotted half hour passes fast. I see “Astral Clouds” (a.k.a. Chris, one of the boardies I met in Belfast). He is sitting behind us and wants to meet the legendary Keiko. I point her out but now it’s time for the gig. The atmosphere has lifted, last night everyone commented on how quiet it was, now it feels more lively.

The band do everything right tonight and somehow it’s got more of the feeling than last night. Sometimes when they have to fight for it, it shows through in the performance, they are more determined. Everything In Its Right Place gets REM’s It’s The End Of The World As We Know It as an intro. Idioteque kicks in with full-on berserk dancing. We can see Ed doing his best effortless sexy rock moves on the big screens. They do Permanent Daylight and then return for an encore of The Thief (by Can, “buy all their records, they’re great. This is dedicated to George Bush who is a thief and will always be a thief, just someone else’s monkey.”) They end on The Tourist, which calms it down nicely.

We wait around. Atsuko sits against the wall, someone told her they could see a ghost behind her and she’s not taking any chances. We persuade Yasuko to use her pass and come with us, it will be her first aftershow and she is nervous. There are issues at play here that I don’t understand.

Tim is first on the scene, trying to break the ranks. He’s had enough of the rather officious Japanese security and their over zealous tidiness. He can’t put anything down anywhere without someone moving it, he couldn’t take drinks onto the stage. He asks Keiko for some choice Japanese phrases and when I produce my phrase book he reads out some of the cultural tips to the amusement of the assembled natives then takes it with him to make notes.

Tim says “Don’t stand here talking to me, go talk to the band.” But they are all engaged. Thom is behind us with uber-fan and magazine boss Mr Tanaka from Snoozer. He’s talking about having trouble keeping up with new music since Noah was born. Again there is no booze, only pear juice, but the band have found their white wine. We’re all standing in a big circle and Thom comes to us next. I tell him that the freaky dancing was even freakier than usual and he says he put his back out during Idioteque. He is rosy cheeked from his wine and the heat and very talkative. It was a better show but they still found the crowd quiet. He said he tried to keep the gaps to a minimum, leaning and beckoning during You And Whose Army usually whips up the throng but here it was greeted with bewilderment.

It’s too early, we’re all sober. “Sober!” you should go and get drunk. He promises Izzy some Vodka for when Caffy is here. Caffy will be in Tokyo for only two days, that’s no time to be sober. He says he wanted to say “How’s your business?” in Japanese – a standard Osaka greeting, but he wasn’t sure the crowd would take it the right way.

Yasuko and I go back to the Imperial via a convenience store, I have some cold noodles and a beer. I chat to Atsuko for ages, talking rapidly to reclaim my English, it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t understand me, she knows what I’m talking about. It’s soon past midnight and I’m falling asleep. All three of us share the big bed. Atsuko has to get up at 6am and go to work. Yasuko, sitting out in the corridor for most of the night, doesn’t seem to sleep at all.

There is no gig on 1^st October, but we start the day hanging out in the lobby of the Imperial one more time. I sit in what has become my favourite seat, with a discreet view of hotel comings and goings. Behind us Ed and the management are discussing a planned dinner in Tokyo and the problems of catering for vegetarians. I think I hear someone say “Thom’ll be OK if there’s plenty of sake.”

Tim appears and we swap a few more gems from my phrase book. I write down some useful phrases for the non-meat and fish eaters on a page torn from my notebook. Thom toddles along and sits with us again. He’s got all his bags with him. “I’ve got my computer in here, I can do everything on it now.”

I tell him about my brother’s attachment to his own macbook and a programme he uses called MAX, “Oh,” says Thom, “Jonny uses that.” He mimes ‘wall of electronics’ to indicate the amount of kit Jonny has. “If I had all that I’d stop singing entirely… so…” he trails off.

Jonny appears and Thom explains to him that we were talking about plug-ins…

Katsu shows up again and gives us a lift to the station where Yasuko and I get a train back to Tokyo. Keiko is sticking around in Osaka for a while longer. When we get back to Shibuya, Yasuko goes to pick up her Hamnett jeans (just like the ones Thom has.) It’s raining, so I go off to buy an umbrella in a shop called Loft. I call Keiko to arrange meeting later then look round more shops and drink more iced coffee.

When we meet we have some traditional Japanese food; as no one will let me eat the same thing twice, I have to try as many different dishes as possible. I’ve tried a lot of things that I’ve liked, but Keiko insists that eat the fermented beans that taste a bit like glue and I need a beer to wash them down.

Keiko explains why she can be a bit hesitant about including everyone else sometimes, she and I been doing this touring thing for a long time and she feels we’ve earned our perks. She isn’t keen on people going to after-shows if they haven’t done it under their own steam. I tell her I’m just trying to be nice and share, but I can see her point too. We have an increasingly drunken conversation, including much amusement about the automated announcer on the Shinkansen saying “brief stop” every time the train calls at a station, this has some how become a euphemism for going to the toilet.  We go back to her house to listen to the B-sides compilation, Itch.

October 2nd, Sunday. Keiko is going to find the band’s hotel, but I should really see some of the city. We make a deal. She wants to take her mother to the hotel to meet Thom… and today I shall venture forth on my own to be a tourist.

I go to Ebisu and the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Photography (at Ebisu Garden Place, home of the beer museum where Keiko used to work.) There are lots of travellators at the station in an aerial walkway, this is the futuristic Japan I had been dreaming about.

The photo museum is a bit disappointing at first, but towards the end there are some contemporary exhibits that I enjoy. I eat lunch in the plaza and buy some postcards to send home. I managed to ask for everything in Japanese. I meet Keiko at Tamachi and we go to check our email in a manga library internet café. Today’s Radiohead News is the announcement of a live EP, to be released in November.

Back at Keiko’s flat I write my postcards and wait for Yasuko and Izzy to arrive. We set off for the Budokan on the underground. It takes time to cross town and there is too much hanging around for my liking. It’s very busy and I get the fear. We meet Atsuko and get inside the building.

We’re in the toilets. I had been assuming we had plenty of time it’s still early, but bloody hell they’ve started. I can hear the bass of The National Anthem thundering through the walls. This is not a good moment to be crouched over a traditional Japanese hole in the floor toilet with your jeans around your ankles.

Atsuko is waiting for me but the others have already gone in. She has a different ticket and I don’t have anything other than a pass and Tim’s word that it will grant me access. I have to go upstairs into the rows of seats, rather than on to the floor where the others are. This is a huge circular venue, the seating stretches up the curved walls almost all the way to the ceiling. I’m hyperventilating. They’ve started! I don’t have a seat number. All the seats are full.

I find myself repeating the most useful words I have learned in Japanese: “Wakarimasen! Sumimasen!”

The rising panic in the song matches how I’m feeling. The wall-shaking loudness of the bass-line mirrors the tension in me. The panic, the rush. Every time I think I’ve found a place where I can stand still, a security guard comes to move me along. I keep looking for the others but they are down on the floor while I’m in the vertiginous curved roof of the arena.

A uniformed guard moves me and my bag (I’ve brought a present for Thom with me) ever upward. I end up right at the top on the last row with my back to the ceiling. Gravity is still working but I don’t understand how I am managing to stay up here, plastered against the wall. How is this building standing still and not hurtling through space?  I feel like I’m about to fall into the crowd below, the stage is so far away the band look tiny.

I feel awful and realise I’m crying. I’ve come this far and I’m at the back, so far away from the stage, the crowd isn’t very lively, I’ve lost my friends, I’m overawed and over the edge.

The band play for about an hour and a half. They don’t seem that into it, not getting anything back from this polite crowd. The sound in here is clinical, there’s no warmth. There is an undeserved encore of Pearly and I am the only person in the upper tier dancing. They do Like Spinning Plates and the atmosphere picks up. But by the time they’ve finished I don’t want them to come back out on stage again, I want this to be over. I put my coat on over my pass. I need a drink. I stomp off to find the place where we have to wait.

Astral Chris appears with a triple-A pass stuck to his chest, he’s been in the photo pit. He’s never been to the afters before and doesn’t seem to know the score. I want to talk to someone about my dissatisfaction with the show. I can’t explain it yet. We get into the room and there is beer. I grab one and leave him to mingle. I need a bit of space. When I tell Tim about getting stuck at the top and he says there were no seats left so they invented tickets for us. Oh god, now I’m being ungrateful and I feel worse.

Caffy is there with Craig, the journalist from The Face, I talk to them, he’s interviewed the band before and is the man for the job. He’s Scottish, and under the impression that I live in Tokyo, but I tell him about my world tour. I try to explain how I wasn’t feeling it tonight, he asks if I can always tell.

Tonight is 40 something, so yeah, I tell him, I can usually tell. I have more beer. Caffy thinks that his piece will be good and finally lay waste to all the “miserable bastard” stuff that keeps getting written. This trip is her swansong, after this she is leaving the industry. She says that the band have never got mad at her even when she thought she’d cocked things up and she’s learnt with them, but she’s going to have a year off, start putting gigs on herself.

Thom swings by and doesn’t hear me when I call after him, Tim urges me to go after him. I tap him on the shoulder and ask if he’d like an early birthday present. I give him the yellow gift bag I’ve been toting around all day. He takes out the T-shirt I found yesterday in Ueno, it bares the legend SONGWRITER in white across the chest.  “I couldn’t resist it” I say. He gives his loudest laugh, a big whoop, and holds it up to his chest to show Colin. We have a half hug and pull the face. I try to explain why I thought it was a crap crowd and he pulls a serious face and I think maybe I should shut up about it. He shows me a copy of Snoozer, he’s rather impressed by a magazine that would put Aphex Twin on the cover. More beer.

The Americans have shown up. Jeff is talking to me about Japan and that woman is bombarding Thom with politics again (It reminds me of Belfast. Is she the same woman as was there? I don’t know.) I wish he would just tell her to shove off. She gives him a weighty tome about US international relations and he finally gets away. I pass him his gifts and rejoin Izzy, Caffy and Keiko.

As we were leaving, going downstairs, Thom appeared from a door on the stairs. He told us to wait. He went to the dressing room and came back with a bottle of vodka that they’d had put on the rider especially for Izzy. “Drink it with Caffy, she saved it for you.”

Yasuko and Atsuko are waiting outside. They’re leaving for Yokohama tonight but I decide to stay another night in Tokyo.

In Tokyo, the band are staying in the Meguro Gajoen, the poshest hotel I’ve ever seen in my life.

Keiko and I head there about lunchtime to meet up with Caffy and the others. Caffy is in the café having cheese and biscuits for breakfast. The coffee is so expensive and she’s so jetlagged that the time of day no longer matters, so she’s ordered a margarita. Izzy arrives and insists on showing me inside the ladies toilet. There is a stream with a bridge and a gold leaf ceiling. Waiting in the queue is like being at Japanese Bathroom Disneyland.

After some deliberation about the prices we join Caffy in the café and get a quick look at the interior waterfall and giant Koi Carp pond that make up the rest of the hotel’s “river”.

Still desperate for caffeine I order a £5 coffee, hoping that I might at last get a decent hit and Izzy has a G&T. We help Caffy plan places to visit on her map, she’s only going to be here for about 48 hours. You have to go to the shops in Shibuya and to Kiddyland, we tell her, it may be just a toy shop but it feels like a theme park. Colin and Jason (the photographer) leave some of their stuff with us and go off to shoot elsewhere in the hotel.

Later Phil is outside for his part of the photo shoot, lying on the ground by the waterfall.

I don’t get time to investigate Caffy’s room, but it sounds amazing, decorated in a traditional Japanese style but with all modern conveniences and technologies. Apparently the band have got rooms that are even more lavish – but I don’t hear about these until later. After another visit to the amazing toilet, we join the band as they assemble to leave for their bus. Thom tries out his Japanese on Keiko and Izzy.

We see them to the door (this hotel has a huge passageway for a lobby) and then we leave to have another look around Harajuku. We all end up in Kiddyland, and I buy a plethora of Afroken stuff (a dog with a rainbow afro hair-do from the Hello Kitty stable) and a T-shirt for Tim. It is red and has a scooter on it with the words ‘radio flyer’, which seems appropriate.

We eat pizza and work ourselves up to the trip to Yokohama.  We look in Tower Records and have a beer, then take the Chikatetsu to Shin-Yokohama station where we call out “Ya-Chan!” until we spot Yasuko and her boyfriend Yama-chan who are waiting to take us to the venue in his Landrover Discovery.

I’m eager to be early tonight, the others have standing tickets and somehow make it to front and centre on the floor near the stage. It’s a big arena, Atsuko comes with me and we discover that my seat for tonight is in the equivalent of the Royal Box, she translates for me as the steward explains that it’s basically the best seat in the house.

She is meeting some other friends and leaves me to it. I sit at the front of the box (although if I wanted to there was a lounge where I could watch the gig on a TV screen). I have the box to myself and I lean over and watch people filling the hall until Clinic start their set, dumdumdumdah… it’s almost a relief to hear the Ink Spots CD that has been the warm up music, even if its starting to sound a bit scratched.

Tonight hearing The National Anthem segue into Hunting Bears sounds good and I make my seat squeak jiggling about in lieu of dancing. The crowd noise is reverberating off the walls, I can hear them, the band can hear them and despite the big venue acoustics it is working tonight in a way it wasn’t at the Budokan.

Everything In Its Right Place at the end of the set has been a highlight every night, even when Thom can’t find the right key to start it. Tonight he quotes from REM’s It’s The End Of The World As We Know It at the beginning and when we get to the off kilter drum pattern at the end, everyone claps in the right places, in time.

Thom is ON IT. He climbs over onto the prongs of the stage, first one side then the other and gets a little fan contact from the front row. It’s great to see him moving about so much. I clap until my hands are sore and manage to keep up with the drum fills. The encores were perfect – last night is forgotten. I’ve found my feeling again. I go to the private bathroom attached to the box, wash my face, then fix on my minotaur sticker. I go down to find where people are congregating. Atsuko and Yasuko are my plus-two for the evening.

Inside, Tim is already being lavished with gifts by an older woman fan from Baltimore; Astral Chris and the American contingent have somehow found their way in and are mingling. I give Tim his present with a card on which I’ve written “Timseiko” (Tim’s the best). Laden with shopping from earlier on, I have copy of Rockin On (the Japanese equivalent of Q magazine), there is a big feature on the band and I intend to get them all to sign it. I don’t want to be frantically trying to do it tomorrow. I’m also blazing a trail for Atsuko and Yasuko who don’t often get chance to get things signed. I borrow a marker pen from the crew room. I find Phil first and he’s very nice about it, considering he’s a blur in the picture. Colin and Ed sign and point out that the photo in the magazine is from Paris.

Thom is already surrounded, but the others want me to go first. I ask him if I can have this to remember my trip. He has a glass of wine on the go and agrees with me that it was a better show than last night. He’s livening up a bit and makes a mess of my autograph trying to do it one handed. He signs Atsuko’s poster and Yasuko’s Ne Pas Avaler T shirt, he notices that she has on the same jeans as him. He doesn’t understand people’s fascination with that particular T-shirt… he’s washed his beyond wearing.

The circle around Thom now comprises me, Keiko, Atsuko, Yasuko, Chris and some girls but I feel like I’m doing all the talking. Jonny’s not around, a crew member had made an off-colour remark about him feeling ill. He’s indisposed, says Thom. Apparently he’s gone mad for all things Honda and he’s going to buy a scooter tomorrow. I tell him Jonny on a bike is a strange image – “Not in leathers surely?”

“Nah,” says Thom, “denim.” We can’t imagine him in a helmet. There are some jokes cracked here that go over the heads of most of the assembled ladies.  Sometimes Thom has a very childish sense of humour. We go back to talking about the show and he says again that tonight was a better show. He does that rubbing his hands together gesture – like he’s feeling the warmth.

Someone says something about the way he was running about on stage and he says “It was a bit cheesy but it was sincerely meant.” Colin had said something about how tomorrow will be more relaxed, “Yeah,” says Thom, “Can’t be as bad as – where was yesterday?”

“Budokan,” I say. We’re agreed.

Izzy and Keiko are a bit drunk. Where have they been all this time? With Caffy? With Tree? Talking to Ed? Atsuko and Yasuko are happy that they got their chance to meet and get things signed by the band but neither of them have said much.

When we get outside, Yama is waiting in the back of his Landrover, having a beer out of the onboard fridge. We drive the others back to Tokyo and then go back to Yasuko’s place on the outskirts of Yokohama with Pavement playing on the stereo. Her place is full of DIY artwork and musical instruments. Kind of reminds me of Val’s flat.

I wake up feeling a little bit fizzy due to beer and a nip of sake at 2am. We take a train into the centre of town and I stow my bag in a station locker. Yasuko and I meet Misako, another friend, for lunch. We go for a wander around Yokohama, it is utterly modern and weirdly artificial. I buy more stickers.

Today I don’t really care about anything other than getting to the show on time. As it turns out we are early and I sit outside with a beer and chat to Chris and the intense American woman who was around the other night. I don’t think they’d realised that I would be talking to Thom the other night, I’m trying to be laid back but I’m probably not doing very well.

Once I’m inside I have enough time to buy a poster, there is a special folded one with Amnesiac artwork just for this tour. I’ve got a seat in a box again, but it’s a different one to last night, slightly further back. Clinic have already started and it’s dark so I can’t see. By the time the Ink Spots CD kicks in, I’m in my seat and ready.

From the first moment they know that tonight is the one. Bam! They hit the stage with full force and it stays like that for the whole of the first hour. I hardly notice the time passing, I’m on my feet doing the freaky dance for the duration, I have to rest during Paranoid Android because my legs are starting to hurt. I don’t care if I’m in anyone’s way. I get some energy back and dance to a typically jerky Idioteque. Everything In Its Right Place, which has been my favourite every night, is so great. I clap until my hands sting. The feeling is at its strongest and I’m not sure whether to cry or scream or just keep repeating “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go!”.

Looking at my copy of the set list, I can only remember elation mixed with the feeling I get when it’s the final show of a tour. Thom reminded the crowd it was the last one like he was happy that he got to go home now… he also seemed unsure when they would be playing live next.

By now the live versions of the Kid A and Amnesiac songs are outstripping the recorded ones about three fold. Kid A seems hollow by comparison. In the live stuff there is abandon and energy in place of the clinical precision. This is the main reason why I keep coming back for more.

The crew’s promised practical joke was a remote controlled robot that invaded the stage during Paranoid Android, in the end it was a bit half-hearted. Ed and Coz tried to kick it and Thom didn’t even notice. They came back on for the “good vibes” of Street Spirit, absolutely rocked out The Bends and then all five of them came back to form a line at the lip of the stage to take a bow, each clutching a champagne glass to toast the crew.

Then they proceed to play a tidy version of Neil Young’s Cinnamon Girl. “We love this!” says Thom. It has riffs, flourishes and joy. I don’t know the original (yet) but I’m humming it all the way through the throng to the back of the hall to wait for the others. Caffy is there with her laminate and I try to make Yasuko wait here so I can get her in with us.  I’m feeling good as I know I will see Thom again one more time and complete the mission to get everyone’s stuff signed by Jonny.

We get beer and talk to Caffy. I want to help the others to meet the band but I also need to be an individual entity for the evening, a separate person. We wait a long while for other folks to appear, so by the time I get a pass for Yasuko, she’s already been chucked out of the venue. The beer flows and so do the vodka and orange juices. I have to stop worrying about everybody else. I shouldn’t try to do impossible favours, this is the last show and who knows when the next one will be, good vibes have to be stored, goodbyes have to be said and so do thank yous.

I chat to Phil. “So that’s the last one then, have you enjoyed it?”

“Of course,” I say. “You get to go home now.”

“So do you.” He replies.

I explain that I’m staying around for another week and then going to Australia for a month. I tell him I’ll have to get a new job when I get back and he says, “Would you rather be working or touring around?” I tell him I think we have already answered that question…

There’s a spare set list from tonight’s show on top of a flight case so I nab it and when Thom appears he finds Keiko and I are still standing while everyone else has got stuck into the vodka, he sticks around to talk to us.

“Did you hear I got mobbed?” he asks gleefully.

“You what?!” I’m surprised he seems so uncharacteristically pleased about this.

“You know that T-shirt you gave me, well it’s probably going to be in The Face. We went outside into the people waiting at the back door and Jason took photos.”

Apparently everyone was a bit stunned but he just stood there and let them crowd him. He stands stock still to demonstrate. “It was mad!”

“You love it!” I say, laughing. He laughs too.

I have more Tokyu Hands stickers and hand over one with “It’s new I’ll give you a ride on it!” over a picture of a moped, for him to give to Jonny, who is yet to show up himself. Keiko is a bit tipsy and she’s hugging everyone. I produce the set list and ask Thom to sign it, as he made a mess of autographing my magazine last night. He leans on my book and does a completely over the top satellite O in his name, which makes me unfeasibly happy.

“Oh,” says Thom, “He didn’t get a scooter in the end. Bottled it at the last minute.”

I give Thom a ‘baby on board’ sticker when he said he’d not seen that particular one.  He’s trying to take some more from my pile but I tell him off,  he’s already got loads. He goes off to get another drink and see some people, but says he’ll come back to us later.

The jumpy American woman bumps up, the US contingent had been huddled together in a corner looking on disapprovingly at our drinking, taking things seriously while me and the Japanese girls were enjoying ourselves. She’s got a bag of stuff, mini discs, CDs, books and apparently she’s trying to lighten her luggage. She circles on Thom wanting to explain why she’s here and what she’s got for him, keeps repeating herself and can’t get it out. He’s got his head on one side listening, being very understanding. I cough and hint and Keiko makes a face and Thom makes a face at me in return. She’s just about done. I want to pull Thom away and rescue him. She’s going, no she’s still here. By now we are all three of us trying not to laugh.

Jonny is around and I trouble him for a signature on Atsuko’s stuff. I tell him I’ve given his sticker to Thom, but he is polite as ever and willing to talk to me. I tell him that tonight was the best show, that Japan has been amazing and that I’m off to Australia next, it is possible that I would travel somewhere without the incentive of Radiohead gigs.

Thom comes back and Keiko is in full hugging mode, language seems inadequate. She thanks him for playing Lurgee and later she told me that he whispered to her that they played it because it was her favourite. She’s a bit teary and we’re all getting a bit tired and emotional. When the beer runs out, she drinks some of Thom’s Champagne.

We are still chatting as the rest of the band are leaving, space and time is unravelling with drink. Keiko gives Thom a huge hug and I ask if it’s OK to take a picture. I take one of Thom and Keiko, Keiko takes one of him and me and he takes one of me and her. As he turns to go he tells me to have a good time in Australia, and I give him a hug myself.  The big bouncer is asking us to make our way out and I’m so happy and full up, I don’t want the moment spoiled. We know the drill by now, don’t rush us.

Keiko and Izzy wobble down the long corridor, I’m sort of crying now, following behind, it probably won’t ever get better than this. Outside there are a pack of patient people waiting to see the band off. The Western contingent stand around separately. The other intense American woman is there and Jeff and his friend, plus Astral Chris. Yasuko is crying, I hug her and explain and apologise, give her the autographed stuff. Remember the good things, what else can we do? I’m too emotional right now. I manage to talk to Chris, without having to say it, none of us want to leave until the very end.

Eventually Keiko phones home and her folks come to pick us up. One of the intense American women gives Keiko a present for Phil, that she hadn’t yet managed to pass on. She doesn’t like these people being so familiar with her but it is taken as read that Keiko will go to the airport to wave the band off in the morning. It’s like she says, “This is my job.”

Back in Tokyo we eat and try in vain to sleep. Izzy turns up in the early hours, unable to remember how she got back…

This tour was the start of a new era. Radiohead’s “official” message board (RHMB) had taken off in a big way with the faithful and lots of people were making friends in real life.

It was to be a Gentlemen’s Leisurely Tour of the Iberian Peninsula: five dates in Portugal and seven in Spain were announced in the spring. I knew I wanted to go but I didn’t know how I was going to pay for it. About a month before the tour was due to start I found myself with a new job. It meant that I couldn’t do the whole trip, but I could take a week to do the Portuguese dates, so I pulled some strings and made some compromises: I’d do the first 5 shows and then go home and back to work.

Then I found out that loads of other people had had a similar idea…

Due to a combination of delays and strikes I flew first from Glasgow to Birmingham, where I spent several hours waiting in the departure lounge listening to The Fall on my minidisc player (It’s been serving me well, in the little case I bought for it in Japan. I’ve not yet gone over to mp3s).

The next leg of my trip takes me to Paris, where I use my hesitant schoolgirl French at Charles De Gaulle to claim a compensatory free drink and wait some more. When I finally get to Lisbon, my rucksack is still in Paris. I have to check into a cheap hostel for the night with no kit.

Lisbon is sticky, hot and uncomfortable. I’m unwashed and unhappy to be parted from my carefully packed bag, but I only have one night booked. In the morning I head out of town to the chain hotel where some of the boardies are booked in. I’ve never been so glad of a complementary towel and toothbrush in my life. I take a long shower and feel human again.

My first full day in Lisbon is spent scouring clothes shops for cheap knickers and a clean T shirt, I’m not very good at roughing it.

My bag turns up a couple of hours before my travel insurance would have kicked in, but by then I’ve booked in for another night at the hotel. My hard learned travel principle “how much am I prepared to pay to avoid doing that” continues to serve me well.

We have the weekend in Lisbon to be tourists. I find myself in an interesting city that I otherwise might not have visited with a small group of new friends. We go to Sintra, climb a hill and manage to get hot, bothered and a bit lost, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s just nice to be here.

When Yasuko arrives, I transfer to her hotel nearer to the venue in the centre of the city. We explore Belem to see the tower in the Tagus estuary and the monastery, beautiful white buildings that look splendid in the heat.

Back in the city centre we take a tram to the castle. As more boardies arrive for the gigs Samuel, one of the French fans, films them and asks them to introduce themselves. His idea, along with Nazaré, another of the French boardies, is to make a film about the tour and present it to the band so they can see how they’ve brought all these different people together. There are a series of surreal moments as Sam asks the same questions of everyone he meets while pointing his video camera in their face: “What is your name? What is your board name? Where have you come from? Why are you here?”

On the first gig day, a relaxed queue forms around the outside of the Coliseu dos Recreios. Large as the RHMB group is, there are plenty of other people here too. Locals, many of them teenagers; Americans who are fitting this in while they “do” Europe for the summer; members of the rival message board run by the At Ease website. But there is no tension in the air, the weather is warm, there is a pizza takeaway near the venue and no one seems to mind if we take it in turns to fetch food or go off for a drink at one of the al fresco bars up the road.

These temporary pavement dwellers have made themselves at home, some scavenge cardboard boxes, either to sit on or to make signs to hold up at the concert. Marker pen fumes fill the air as creative types draw Scary Bears and “RHMB is here” on a card large enough to be seen from the stage.

My lack of funds mean I was only able buy a ticket for the first show. Even though I can now ask the band for guestlist, I like to have a ticket as a back up in case I can’t get it organised. A safety net in case they change their mind. Back in March all the shows had sold out quickly, even when extra dates were added.

But my fears were unfounded. Thom had replied to my email before I left the UK:

(you) will be on da guest list plus umm 2.. ill tell tim on the way
down….
hope your well lucy..
sorry to be brief am fukking busy

I like that he randomly gives me a plus 2. This means I’ve got to choose my friends carefully. Tim emailed me to confirm this arrangement, now I just have to find him.

I can’t seem to separate the three Lisbon gigs from each other in my memory. There were so many new songs and a communal feeling of anticipation in the room on each night. I remember fidgeting through Four Tet’s support sets (some of the front row habitués had set themselves the challenge of making Kieron Hebden smile). Great warm up music though Four Tet is, it’s difficult to focus on a bloke standing behind a lap top in the middle of an empty stage. I decided that what he was actually doing was emailing home. I imagined his messages: “Dear Nan, Portugal is lovely. I’m playing to the same crowd every night, these Radiohead fans are mental but they seem to be enjoying the music. Wish you were here…”

I think the eventual winner of the “make Four Tet crack a smile” bet was M, one of the American contingent. Her shouts of “Kieron’s a fox!” followed by the occasional wolf whistle finally got him to laugh, but he never missed a beat.

I remember being startled by the single drums set up on either side of the stage before the band came on. No one knew what to expect. Had they turned into Adam and The Ants? Was this their Burundi-influenced new direction? When the band appeared, Ed and Jonny have drum sticks. Ed was revelling in this new role and Jonny played with concentrated gusto, his guitar slung across his back. There There was a revelation and soon we were all clapping along. It really shouldn’t have worked but it did. Thom was still in the middle, hair at messy angles, back to battering a guitar.

The thrill of brand new songs continues through the show. They keep coming, some so new that Thom needs a lyric sheet on a music stand in front of him (these become prized possessions when he later chucks them into the crowd). They play the long lost Lift, this is the kind of crowd that appreciated that it’s not been forgotten. Most of these songs are still at the experimental stage. On one Phil provides backing vocals (he seems to have invested in a gaudy new shirt for the occasion), on another (Myxomatosis?) Thom appears to be playing a Keytar!

There’s something jubilant about these shows. I come away a little stunned – there is a lot to take in – but it’s OK  -I get to do it all again tomorrow and the next day!

*

When Follow Me Around (Sam and Naz’s film) finally made it to the internet, several years after it was made, it eventually had the band-approved sound desk recordings to accompany the live footage. It was delayed because they wanted to be legit and had to wait for EMI to sign it off. Clara and I saw a cut on a visit to Paris to visit Naz later but it was a couple of years before the rest of the people who were in it saw it.

I have some rough bootlegs of the Portugal show, recorded for the most part on a microphone secreted under Astral Chris’s hat. The volume fluctuates, the sound glitches and there’s a lot of audience noise, (I think I recognise some of the screams). The machine whirs between tracks, limited battery life meant only the brand new songs got recorded, and it would be a few years before the band released them. At the time they were all we had to go on.

“Nice and fast. Here we go,” says Thom, introducing a now almost unrecognisable Up On The Ladder (that song won’t emerge as a finished article until the In Rainbows sessions). “Little raindrops, little raindrops” I misheard as the chorus of Stand Up Sit Down. I loved it. It is completely frantic and it will never sound quite so intense again. I continued getting the words wrong, letting it carry me away, dancing like a maniac, ready to burst every time they played it.

The song that we now know as Where Bluebirds Fly can just be made out playing as intro music. By the second night everyone is clapping along to set opener There There like it’s an old fave. We know that “We are accidents waiting, waiting to haaaaappen” is going to be the line that sticks in our memories. Scatterbrain is the least Radiohead-sounding new one; the hyper Wolf At The Door might yet be called “Stepford Wives” and the lyrics tumble out of Thom’s mouth so fast he’s almost falling over the words; Go To Sleep has the closest thing to a guitar solo they’ve had in a song for a long time.

I have sticky passes for all the Lisbon shows, but these aftershows have all merged into one memory. On the second night when I got to talk to people, I remember meeting Tim and he asked me if he should let some of the people hanging about outside into the party. I felt honoured by the responsibility, it was for me to decide if they were “alright” or not. My plus-two meant I took both Clarabelle and Yasuko with me, and Chris had also found his way into the little bar at the back of the venue.

Tim explained to me that this would be his last official stint as Tour Manager. He was ‘retiring’ from the road, but he was still going to be working in the studio, “mowing the lawn,” as he put it. We had a nice chat and he asked me if I had any idea how many gigs he’d been at… we started trying to do sums and I said I’d let him know about the online gigographies so he could try and work it out. It was cool to be able to swap war stories with him.

The others found the bar and discovered the local speciality cocktail, the Caipirinha. Somewhere in between drinks I drag Clara over to where Ed is sitting and introduce her, she’s his particular fan. I wasn’t going to mention it, but Chris passes by and drops out that she is one of the people behind the “Harem”, a lighthearted and at times very silly Ed fan site.

Later on when Thom appeared clutching his now customary red wine, I was sitting in a corner with a can of coke, trying to wake myself up. I still have my ‘entourage’ around, but he’s come to talk to me.

“It’ll give you cancer.” he says pointing at my drink, but I sense this is part of some in-joke I’m not party to. He asks if I enjoyed the show and I start trying to explain which songs, whose names I don’t yet know, are my new favourites.

“I like the rock one. You know the Neil Young-y one,” I say (I mean Go To Sleep).

“Oh no. Not rock,” he says slightly horrified, “Neil Young, we wish!”

We talk about Lisbon, I ask him if he’s seen much of the place yet, tell him I like the way it’s a bit dilapidated and shabby round the edges.

“It reminds me of Cuba,” he says, not quite prepared to tell me more of that story. He’s talking about their hotel, how it’s not really up to much, how they’d probably be better off staying on the bus.

“It’s not bloody five star!” He’s joking. I think.

“It’s not like in Japan,” he says, remembering the last time I saw him.

I remind him about the golden bathroom ceilings and rivers running through the lobby in Tokyo. We have a wistful moment, no other hotels will ever measure up… and I didn’t even see inside the rooms.

“There was a TV in the bathroom, and a stereo…” he tells me, becoming animated.

I’m visibly impressed.

“I put Aphex Twin on,” he mimes, “and danced in the shower… ‘come on you c***s lets have some of that Aphex Acid!’” he giggles. I don’t think he realises the mental image he’s just conjured up for me. I think I just stood there with my mouth open.

We have a day in between gigs and take the train to Porto. When we get there the station is decorated with traditional blue and white tiles, just another one of the pleasant little details that Portugal keeps unexpectedly throwing in my path. We jump into a taxi to our hotel. Just as we’re approaching some traffic lights and on the same street as the venue, Thom crosses the road in front of us… we wave frantically but we don’t think he’s seen us.

The venue is round the corner and up the road from the hotel that Yasuko and I have found. It seems rather grander than our usual budget B&Bs but like most other things here, it has a faded glamour. We settle in, discover we have room to put up another person in our room if need be, then head out to explore the city.

Guidebook in hand I lead the way back to the crossroads of the main streets. Just as we stop on the corner to consult our map, Thom, Phil and Jonny cross the street coming from the venue. Everyone mimes their surprise, it’s just another ordinary day in Radiohead town… I swallow my astonishment and say hello and it comes out in the same Pete and Dud tones as Thom’s “Evenin’.”

We spend the next day exploring Porto; a lot of the others are intent on queuing up at the venue for most of the day, but it’s too hot to be sitting on the pavement so I resist until later, trying my usual tactic of swapping places with people so I can at least get a decent view. The venue here is similar to the one in Lisbon, maybe a little larger. The gig itself is rather hazy. Without looking at a set list I can’t separate it from the others.

I remember frantically trying to avoid The Intense Americans who had decided it was their mission to be my friend. I remember dancing around the empting hall after the band finished. Lions of Judah by Steve Reid on the PA (I had to ask the soundman what it was, it was so perfect for stomping).

After leaving the venue, a big gang of us wander down towards the river. There is a late bar with tables outside, surrounded by Heras fencing because, like in a lot of the city, there was work taking place to install an underground system. In spite of the roadworks the bar is pleasant enough and the night is young, if a little chilly for sitting out after midnight. We all get drinks and “real life” friendships continue to develop between the boardies. Sam is still filming, capturing the post-gig stunned state that we’re starting to get used to after four shows in five days.

The night wears on and the beer flows. Some time around 2am a large group of people appear on the other side of the fencing. It’s the band and various friends, staff and hangers on. They’ve been to a club. When we spot them we wave, beckon them and shout, inviting them to join us. They wave back and laugh. When Thom gets to the gap in the fence he stops and feigns coming down the steps towards us. He steps in and out a few times, will he, won’t he. Various boardies offer to buy him a drink and he seems to be seriously considering it. In the end he follows the rest of the group back up the hill towards their hotel… Sam is still filming and he catches Clara asking me how it feels to be “stalked by a member of Radiohead…”