If you’d told me a couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have believed it: on November 4th, I was going to see Radiohead in Madrid.
Photo credit: Alex Lake
In September, after seven years of silence, the band suddenly announced a short European tour of just 20 shows. Chaos, joy, and disbelief followed immediately. Fans couldn’t believe it. All these years, we’d only heard about The Smile, Thom Yorke’s project, and Jonny Greenwood composing film scores… but Radiohead had shown no signs of life. That same week, they announced dates in Madrid, Bologna, London, Copenhagen, and Berlin for November and December.
The ticket process was almost dramatic. First came preregistration, with specific dates and hours. Depending on your location, you were given access to certain shows. Then came the dreaded “code.” Without a code, there were no tickets, and each code only allowed four. In my house, there are three of us, and only one person got one, so we were lucky. We managed to get tickets for the first night in Madrid, the opening show of the tour. We couldn’t believe it.
Usually, I check setlists before a concert, but this time the band hadn’t played in seven years. I had to go in blind and let them surprise me.
The day came. It was Tuesday, November 4th, and we were about to see Thom Yorke’s band after so long. For me, it was also the first time seeing them live. They were scheduled for four nights in Madrid at the Movistar Arena, a venue where I’ve seen everything from Paul McCartney to Björk.
This time, upon entering, the first thing we saw was a circular stage in the middle of the floor—nothing else. Around it, a kind of “cage” that served as both screen and barrier between us and the musicians. Without realizing it, I ended up right in front of Jonny Greenwood, slightly to the side of where Thom would sing at times. The instructions were clear: doors at 18:00, lights out at 19:30, Radiohead at 20:30. No opening act.
Expectation was running high. Everyone was asking the same question: “What will they play?” At 20:15 the lights started to flicker, like a ship warming its engines, teasing the crowd. And finally, 20:30: they stepped on stage. The Movistar Arena erupted in applause and screams. They opened with ‘Let Down,’ a track reborn on TikTok for a new generation.
The night had just begun. For two full hours, they delivered one anthem after another: ‘2+2=5,’ ‘Sit Down. Stand Up,’ ‘Lucky.’ Thom muttered a couple of shy “thank yous”, but on stage, he was anything but timid. His dancing, the way he moved across the platform to sing toward every corner of the room, the spins he did during the more upbeat songs—everyone was captivated. When ‘No Surprises’ began, with its delicate glockenspiel, it felt like watching a music box come to life.
Every member of the band is a prodigy. The venue’s acoustics, however, weren’t always on their side. Some of the louder rock moments sounded a bit messy, while the slower ones came out perfectly. Still, the audience cheered, laughed, and hugged. During ‘Fake Plastic Trees,’ we all cried, no exceptions.
At times, it felt like being in their rehearsal space. Everything was natural, almost intimate. Then came the songs that have marked generations: ‘Everything in Its Right Place,’ ‘The National Anthem,’ ‘Idioteque.’ What an incredible album ‘Kid A’ is.
The encore was short but intense. No one wanted it to end. So many songs left unplayed, so many favorites. Yet they gifted us ‘Subterranean Homesick Alien,’ which they hadn’t performed since 2017, followed by ‘Paranoid Android,’ ‘How to Disappear Completely,’ ‘There There,’ and, as the perfect closer, ‘Karma Police.’ It couldn’t have been anything else.
If I had to describe what I felt hearing them play, listening to Thom’s voice, and living through that setlist, words fall short. I went from nostalgia to joy, from melancholy to euphoria, from one song to the next. I missed a few personal favorites, but I’m glad I was there on opening night—with no expectations, and without knowing the setlist for once.
