I don't remember the first time I heard Thom Yorke sing, but by the time I sat down to listen to Radiohead in my early twenties, his magnetic voice and beguiling melodies were as familiar as lullabies.
An instant connection with the band's music in my university days grew into something of an obsession – one that led me to Yorke's extensive sonic work in The Smile, through films like Suspiria and the Blue Planet series, and of course, under his own solo moniker.
It's been more than a decade since Yorke last stepped foot on Australian soil for Radiohead's A Moon Shaped Pool tour back in 2012, so when news broke of his imminent return to Sydney and Melbourne for a slate of solo shows, in my mind, my attendance was a non-negotiable.
Climbing the steps of the Sydney Opera House forecourt as the sun set on an overcast Friday evening, a festive atmosphere was building as a crowd of thousands pooled into the venue. With lights dimmed, there was a reverberating cheer, and the pulsating opening piano chords of The Eraser began to play out.
Yorke, entirely alone on stage, more than held his own, swapping from instrument to instrument as the set list played out. (He was only once joined on stage by a fellow musician, Kiwi artist Mark Pritchard, with whom he performed their song Back in the Game.)
Despite the waft of a cold Sydney Harbour breeze, Yorke's voice pulled us inward, crisp and clear above a wash of eroding synths and against a backdrop of the city's sparkling skyline. Diffused piano wove through overwhelming bass lines, moving through genre, tempo and melody with abandon.
Visually, Yorke's set was a feast too, his likeness projected live onto three large LED screens behind him, but obscured through effects that disintegrated and morphed his features into a Matrix-like abyss. It felt at once surreal and hypnotic – more than once I turned to say, with a laugh, "I feel like I just entered a trance".
Yorke's demeanour was relaxed. For a man who's spent nearly four decades commanding stages around the world, perhaps his insouciance is only natural; an experienced pilot journeying us through the innermost places of his psyche.
Surprisingly, Yorke opted to still include plenty of Radiohead classics on the evening's billing – Fake Plastic Trees and Everything in Its Right Place both supercharging the crowd's energy. Perhaps less surprisingly, he also played through the bittersweet piano ballads of Suspirium and Bloom (a personal favourite of mine – I'd highly recommend watching him perform it at the Electric Lady Studios on YouTube when you get the chance).
Radiohead's How to Disappear Completely brought the near two-hour set to a close, a moment of unwinding and catharsis as rain began to mist. The trance-state lifted like a veil. Yorke left stage with a bow and a nod. His thickly painted sounds and the high whine of his voice now just a hypnotic memory.
