Dawn, Dusk, Autumn and Other Times of Change

Radiohead - Reckoner

I was about five seconds away from sleep tonight when I heard the opening crashes of Reckoner. I was immediately granted intense sensory memories of a morning in October. Since I started this project for the express purpose of relating stories like this, I decided I owed it to myself to get out of bed and write.

Maybe you didn't know this, but I'm a big radiohead fan. Have been for a long time. Like most of my generation who are into the "indie music", Radiohead was one of the bands that first expanded my minds and ears. Do you remember ok Computer? Do you remember the excitement about Kid A? I remember using Napster (yes, the original one) to download Amnesiac when it first leaked, track by track, out of order, 20 minutes per song on the 56.6k dial-up modem. Mom yelling from the other room to get off the line because she had to make a call. I told her what I was doing, and she told me to burn her a copy when it was done. I got seriously ill trying to see them live. I have them all, I have the EPs, I have some b-sides. I bought all the albums on release day once I was old enough to get albums for myself.

In Rainbows was not much different, that is to say, in the level of excitement. There was a lot less time to prepare, of course, since they announced it just days before releasing it online. I wanted to hear Reckoner. A live clip of it had made the rounds for quite some time, years even, before the album's release. Really rough and angular rocker. Intense. I was ravenous. I also had to wake up very early the next morning. But of course I stayed up late to download it, burn it to cd, and put it in a safe place to remind me to take it with me on the drive to work in the morning.

It was six-forty AM on Thursday, October 11th 2007 the first time I listened to Reckoner. The sun was slowly coming up as I was bundled up in my car on this particularly brisk autumn morning. My car didn't really agree with my desire for the heat to come on. Finally. Track 7, the one I had wondered about for years. I was passing the WilcoHess on South Main in Blacksburg on my way to Christiansburg to open the store that morning. Early, cold, anticipatory. Where are the guitars? This is a really great opening. Very different than what I remembered from that video. Does it change? Will it be sudden? Here, after the second verse, that's where it rocks out. Right? No? I'm confused. This song is called Reckoner. There is nothing about it that resembles what I had been expecting. Is that bad? Am I upset? No. Definitely not. This is something different. It's expecting something to be one way, then having that rug pulled out from under you. Then, finding that you didn't fall down. It was an illusion? That other one? This is the real song. This simply feels right. This might be one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. I played it again four times before I got to the store. I played it several times that morning while alone, opening, baking bread and slicing lettuce.

Leaving work ten hours later, I paused outside on the way to the car. I could feel in the air, something, something changing. It was a slow change that I didn't notice for so long. And then when I did, it felt abrupt, startling, like it happened overnight. It was autumn. Trees had changed color. I had been wearing light jackets more often than not. Autumn is my favorite time of year, and I was in it. I listened to Reckoner once more that night, at dusk. I put it on and stared out the window and let it wash over me. How did I not notice this change? What happened to summer? I acquiesced to the fact that the harsh sun and humidity were departing, leaving the calm, still air of autumn. I was content. Reckoner was not the powerful, monolithic statement I expected. Reckoner was a levelling, a calming, a stillness.

Some changes are gradual. Some are startling. Some change is without our consent. Some times, change turns out to be for the best.

Plug in, and turn it up...