The famous classical piece lurking in Radiohead’s ‘Paranoid Android’
In the world of relatively harmless YouTube reaction videos, it’s hard not to enjoy the niche genre of “person listening to a hugely popular song for the very first time because they’ve somehow never heard it before”. I’m particularly fond of a specific subgenre of these videos, in which someone from a classically trained musical background—be it a composer, a violinist, or a vocal coach—sits down and carefully absorbs and analyses a gem from the comparatively strange and scuzzy world of “alternative rock”. And if there’s an ideal subgenre within that subgenre, it’s the Radiohead reaction videos.
Sure, you’ll find the occasional opera singer on YouTube who thoroughly enjoys their belated introductions to Nirvana or the Pixies, but Radiohead—time after time—is the one that the highbrow composition geeks and Royal Academy grads gravitate to most. And why wouldn’t they? Thom Yorke and the band are undeniable high-brow composition geeks themselves, and they are never shy about weaving in references from jazz or classical music amongst their nods to the Smiths and Talking Heads.
A great example of this can be found in one of the band’s most popular songs, ‘Paranoid Android’, the epic six-minute tour de force from 1997’s OK Computer. If ever there were a golden opportunity for the virgin ear of a cloistered first-chair cellist to ring in joyous recognition of a familiar classical motif, this would be the song. Specifically, it’s the second half of the track—right after Jonny Greenwood’s frantic dial-up internet guitar solo—that ‘Paranoid Android’ takes an unexpected left turn toward a German classical composer from the early 1800s.
The melody that accompanies Yorke’s aching cries of “from a great height / from a great height” bears a striking resemblance to a memorable portion of Felix Mendelssohn’s ‘Hebrides Overture’ (Op 26), composed in 1830. Mendelssohn, who was only 21 at the time, famously wrote the piece after a visit to Fingal’s Cave on the Scottish island of Staffa, likely contributing to its lasting resonance and popularity among British audiences over the 200 years that followed. The music was intended to capture the loneliness of the cave and the crashing sea just outside of it (the piece’s original title in German was ‘Die einsame Insel’, or, ‘The Lonely Island’).
Did Yorke and the Greenwood brothers intentionally pluck the Hebrides melody to get the powerful emotional impact they wanted for the big third act of ‘Paranoid Android’? Or was it something more subconscious, buried in the back of their minds from their parent’s record collections or a long-ago art school lesson? Either way, it’s a fun, unexpected, and highly effective re-interpretation of a very old motif on a very forward-thinking record.
This makes it extra disappointing that, upon watching the entirety of a YouTube video titled ‘Radiohead, Paranoid Android – A Classical Musician’s First Listen and Reaction’, the otherwise insightful and pleasant musician in question (classical harpist Amy Shafer) marches right through the “From a Great Height” portion of the track without once invoking Mendelssohn’s name.
It’s the same deal in another popular ‘Paranoid Android’ reaction video from a TV and film composer calling himself Key of Geebz. He loves the track but doesn’t spot the Scottish cave-inspired, 19th-century German classical theme hiding right there in plain sight.
Maybe the reference is more of a deep cut, classically speaking, than I realised. Or maybe it’s too subtle a callback (just a few repeating notes) to warrant careful analysis. I’ll let you be the judge. Check out Mendelssohn’s ‘Hebrides Overture’ starting at the two-minute mark, followed by ‘Paranoid Android’ at the 4:20 mark, and see if you have a Youtube-worthy reaction.
