Radiohead's In Rainbows: A decade-spanning masterpiece that still feels like the future

There are albums that define a moment, and then there are albums that transcend time entirely. In Rainbows, released in 2007, falls squarely in the latter category. Sixteen years on, it still sounds like the future - fluid, weightless, and emotionally devastating in a way that sneaks up on you. It's a record that doesn't demand your attention; it earns it. And once it has you, it doesn't let go.

The art of letting go: Radiohead's human touch

By 2007, Radiohead had already conquered the world, torn themselves apart, and stitched themselves back together. They'd gone from the grunge-adjacent angst of Pablo Honey (1993) to the alienation of OK Computer (1997), then detonated that formula entirely with the skittering, dystopian unease of Kid A (2000) and Amnesiac (2001). Hail to the Thief (2003) felt like a necessary exorcism, a sprawling, paranoid fever dream that suggested they were ready to self-destruct again.

Instead, they did the opposite. They let go.

That's the defining magic of In Rainbows: it's not about control, but surrender. Where previous albums wrestled with existential dread and digital malaise, In Rainbows breathes. It's warm. It's intimate. For all its meticulous layering and sonic craftsmanship, it feels like five people in a room, playing their hearts out.

A sound that feels like light passing through glass

Radiohead has always been about textures as much as melodies, and In Rainbows is their most tactile album. The opening seconds of 15 Step make that immediately clear - the playful clatter of an electronic beat, then a full-bodied bassline so rich it practically glows. And suddenly, Thom Yorke's voice floats in, weightless and effortless: "How come I end up where I started?"

From there, the album unfolds like a dream you don't want to wake up from:

• Bodysnatchers rumbles like an electrical storm, all jagged guitars and manic energy, a throwback to their The Bends (1995) era but shot through with the precision of Kid A.
• Nude is a slow-motion collapse, Yorke's falsetto unraveling over a deep, mournful bassline. It's the most achingly beautiful song they've ever written.
• Weird Fishes / Arpeggi moves like an ocean current, its hypnotic guitar loops pulling you under.
• All I Need is the sound of longing itself - soft, desperate, then bursting into an orchestral swell that feels like a heart breaking in real time.
• Reckoner is a revelation. A celestial gospel. Yorke's falsetto here is like a wisp of smoke rising from something sacred.
• House of Cards is seductive and spectral, a love song dissolving in real-time.
• Jigsaw Falling Into Place brings back the nervous energy, a song that feels like watching a night spiral out of control in slow motion.
• Videotape closes the album on a note of existential finality, like a tape looping endlessly into oblivion.

An album that changed everything

In Rainbows wasn't just a musical triumph; it was a cultural shift. Its pay-what-you-want release model shook the industry. It wasn't just about giving fans a choice - it was a quiet rebellion against the machinery of majoar labels, a blueprint for the internet era. Radiohead didn't just make an album; they made a moment.

And yet, all of that would mean nothing if the music didn't hold up. But it does. It's the rare record that doesn't age. Maybe because it was never chasing a trend to begin with. It exists in its own dimension - timeless, untouchable, always waiting for you to come back to it.

The verdict? 10/10 - obviously

There's no real way to quantify an album like In Rainbows. You don't measure it in technical prowess or innovation alone (though it has plenty of both). You measure it in the way it makes you feel. And this album? It feels like falling, like floating, like being completely and utterly alive.

It's a perfect record. And honestly, how many of those do we really get?

FINAL SCORE: 10/10