Radiohead Setlist

Planet Telex
2 + 2 = 5
Sit Down. Stand Up.
Bloom
Lucky
Ful Stop
The Gloaming
There There
No Surprises
Videotape
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
Everything in Its Right Place
15 Step
The National Anthem
Daydreaming
Subterranean Homesick Alien
Bodysnatchers
Idioteque
— Encore —
Fake Plastic Trees
Let Down
Paranoid Android
You and Whose Army?
A Wolf at the Door
Just
Karma Police

Tour Dates

Madrid, Spain: Movistar Arena (November 4, 5, 7, 8)
Bologna, Italy: Unipol Arena (November 14, 15, 17, 18)
London, UK: The O2 Arena (November 21, 22, 24, 25)
Copenhagen, Denmark: Royal Arena (December 1, 2, 4, 5)
Berlin, Germany: Uber Arena (December 8, 9, 11, 12)

Radiohead Rise Again with “Let Down”

The highlight of the night was Let Down: the resurrected Radiohead played it tight, dreamy, joking around, smiling, exchanging knowing glances, enjoying this old creation of theirs brought back to life like a phoenix—and, in a way, like themselves, re-emerging from who knows where—or rather, from the deepest corners of our emotions. Written off, rumored broken up, bored, or in conflict, the Oxford five surprised everyone by reuniting for this tour—and we already knew there were plenty of spoilers from Madrid. But they didn’t matter: they constantly tweak their setlists, making every night unique. Last night (my 12th Radiohead show) proved that they still have fun playing together—and you could tell, which isn’t something you can take for granted. They could have done a tour like this half-heartedly, just to see what it felt like, only to realize that maybe Radiohead was a thing of the past. Instead, Radiohead is very much a band of the present. Tons of Gen Z—and even some Gen Alpha—fans attest that there’s more than just a TikTok Let Down revival going on: there are people who had never seen them live before, longing to do so, because legends need to be experienced firsthand to see if they’re real. And even back in the early 2000s, I knew that going to a Radiohead show was “one of the 20 things worth living for,” and I’d say I could still stand by that today.

A Round Stage for a Parallel World

The round stage in the center of the floor intensified the experience—everyone could get closer than they ever might otherwise (unless you were among the early birds who queued up at dawn to grab a front rail spot)—but it did raise a few questions about sound, probably great from the stands but less consistent in certain areas under the stage. No big deal: after a settling-in Planet Telex (as usual, the first song often gets a bit crushed in the mix), Thom Yorke and the band hit us with two devastating tracks from Hail to the Thief (which, over time, I think is their second or third best album). The finale of 2 + 2 = 5 was especially overwhelming: everything blurred, they pounded their instruments as if trying to summon the perfect wall of sound, and we in the crowd felt like we’d been punched in a ring. Same feeling came with the climax of There There, and even the disorienting Ful Stop, which, as Piero Merola once said, “maybe they enjoy playing it more than the audience enjoys listening.” Even last night, though, Ful Stop packed a serious punch.

Personally, there was only one track I absolutely had to hear—and I already knew there was a 99% chance it would appear, since they played it at all four Madrid shows: The National Anthem. TNA is one of those songs that reveals its full essence live, becoming almost monolithic over time like a medieval monument that still awes today. Every band has at least one; for Radiohead, it’s definitely The National Anthem. Every time—last night included—TNA pulls the listener into its own world: a sort of Alice-in-Wonderland rabbit hole, a Stranger Things-like upside-down, a portal through time, a veil separating our physical selves from our psyche. Obsessive yet inviting, unsettling yet alluring, it’s a one-track labyrinth to get lost in, like a musical trip.

A Complex Band That Reaches Everyone

Radiohead’s return to an arena-like venue—less sprawling than the chaotic crowds of their last visit (Monza was a madhouse; in terms of experience)—was a blessing. In this more intimate middle-ground, far cozier than oversized outdoor fields like the Parco delle Cascine in Florence, they shine. They give and receive in a human-electricity ping-pong. Even the change in audience, the “younger crowd” as I mentioned earlier, was beneficial: fewer people singing along like they were in a stadium, while longtime fans (“Paranoid Android,” “Karma Police,” “No Surprises”) still knew the classics—but that’s expected. Radiohead used to be a band for retreating, for living an inner moment; after 2012, they had become a stadium band, meant to be experienced collectively, singing along. Last night wasn’t a personal secular mass, a solitary confession, the quiet ceremony of their early shows—but a middle ground. They still managed to create a prairie to get pleasantly lost in, a place to vanish entirely (unfortunately, no How to Disappear Completely). So yes, the rowdiness of the crowd during Fake Plastic Trees stung a little—especially when Thom sang, “And if I could be who you wanted / If I could be who you wanted / All the time,” which used to demand holding your breath—but a beautiful atmosphere returned with Videotape and Daydreaming: that waiting silence, the stunned looks, the anticipation of wonder.

It’s always an epiphany when a band as musically complex as Radiohead can reach so many people, play live as if it were the easiest thing in the universe, and leave us grinning like fools who just witnessed something extraordinary.

—Paolo Bardelli