The 500 - #111 - The Bends - Radiohead

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

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Album: #111
Album Title: The Bends
Artist: Radiohead
Genre: Alt Rock, BritPop, Post Grunge
Recorded: Three London Studios, including Abbey Road

Released: March, 1995
My age at release: 29
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #276, dropping 165 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Just

To say I was obsessed with Radiohead’s second release, The Bends, would be an overstatement. But, for about six weeks in the summer of 1995, it was a dominant part of my daily soundtrack. That record followed me everywhere, from late-night runs and city drives to the stereo humming in my first solo apartment. It literally arrived at a moment when everything in my life felt unstable and unfinished, but also on the brink of profound transition.

Radiohead in 1995

It was a strange hinge-point. My world was changing and I was trying, often clumsily, to change with it. There was possibility everywhere, but also the unmistakable feeling that I was letting go of things I might never get back. I was turning 30, and from the dramatic heights of that moment (laughable now from the vantage point of 60), it felt like an expiry date. I was convinced I’d aged out of relevance, a relic lingering in a world that had already moved on. That feeling lined up perfectly with The Bends, especially the record's third single release, Fake Plastic Trees. The song’s lyrics and sound captured the weariness and exhaustion of a routine life, without raging against adulthood, just sagging under their combined heft. "Gravity always wins."

The summer of 1995, at a road hockey tournament
 in Victoria Park, London, Ontario.

That summer, I was still working at a bar, slinging drinks and chicken wings, watching the staff skew younger with every passing month. I’d been accepted to Teacher’s College. So it was an exciting time, but that came with so much second guessing. It meant giving up my apartment, draining my savings, and hauling myself from London to Thunder Bay. It meant trading a lucrative, comfortable gig for a flyer on something resembling a real career. What if I failed? What if I didn't fit in the education world? What if this was the moment future-me would point to and say, “That’s where it all went sideways.”

Clearing tables at the bar in 1995.

On top of that, I’d just ended a nine-year relationship. At that time, we both knew that breaking up was the right decision. Neither of us was in a good place to support the other. However, it still felt like I'd cracked my life open on purpose and was convincing myself there was something better waiting for me. Thom Yorke's lyrics from Just, the fourth single on The Bends, always seemed to find the right, fragile moment to remind me that I'd made a grievous error.

That’s where The Bends lived. An album about pressure, dislocation, and the low-grade panic of becoming someone you’re not sure you recognize yet. It didn’t offer answers. Instead, it poked and prodded. It made me question things I thought I’d already decided. Yorke’s voice sounded both accusatory and exhausted, like it was asking whether my new ambitions were salvation or just another reckless gamble.

In those summer weeks, as my move to Thunder Bay drew near,  The Bends simultaneously served dual purposes. It was certainly comforting “escape” music, but also diagnostic. Rogue lyrics seemed to know how to name my anxiety and accompanied my doubt. Yet, somehow, listening to The Bends also made it easier to keep moving. It got me through difficult days, and pushed me onwards.

Packing up for Teacher's College.

From where I sit now, all of that anxiety feels comically ridiculous.  I wasn’t a relic at 30. I wasn’t blowing up my life. I was turning a page...granted, with far more internal drama than the moment required. But maybe that intensity mattered. Maybe taking it all so seriously was the point.

Everything worked out. The move to Thunder Bay led to a career I love. I managed to win the girl back. The risks paid off. And the things I feared I was losing? Most of them were just shedding their earlier shapes. I didn’t know that then. I only knew I was experiencing a dozen conflicting emotions, often in the same day. Fear and excitement, grief and restlessness, doubt fighting with determination, loneliness brushing up against a quiet, stubborn hope, all of it sharpened by a pressure that somehow kept me moving.

That’s why The Bends still makes sense to me. It was a companion at a time when I needed to scare myself into action. Admittedly, I took everything far too seriously then and every choice felt permanent while every potential misstep seemed catastrophic. But maybe that intensity was necessary. Maybe the fear, the pressure, and the overthinking were just the cost of committing fully. In the end, things worked out not in spite of that anxiety, but because of it.

As for that long-ago breakup, after reuniting, we married and we're both Radiohead fans, enjoying several listens to The Bends this past weekend, clearly framing it in a different context -- as an extraodinarily good record.