Tag Archive: Phil Selway

This article first appeared at No Ripcord on May 23, 2016.


A Moon Shaped Pool is a masterpiece. Let’s just get that out of the way. After The King of Limbs left something to be desired and band members were off on various projects, it was questionable whether Radiohead would retain the level of focus that it had in the past. Thankfully, those worries are unfounded, as the group’s ninth album is in the top-tier of their discography. A Moon Shaped Pool is also a dense listen that gives back what you put into it. Like Kid A and Amnesiac, the first listen may seem impenetrable in places. But over time, some of the band’s best melodies reveal themselves, like diamonds discovered in a mix of organic and electronic instruments.

A Moon Shaped Pool is a definitive mood album as well, but the emotions expressed vary immensely from song to song. Decks Dark and Desert Island Disk are gentle and warm psych-folk. “It was just a laugh,” Thom Yorke sings on the former, over a light piano segment that transitions into a heavier pattern, with rattling guitar chords echoing into space. The latter has a Neil Young vibe, with an acoustic melody made for an arid desert at sunset. “The wind rushing round my open heart/An open ravine,” Yorke says, before admitting in relief that “different types of love are possible.”  The Numbers, likely to go down as one of the only good songs about environmentalism, combines many of the band’s best elements. An acoustic rhythm guitar glides next to a submerged piano melody, Yorke moves from a laid-back vocal to his ghostly falsetto and hopeful strings burst out to support a declaration that we will “take back what is ours.” Even if a song appears to be soothing at first glance, the band never lets you get too comfortable. The Present Tense‘s guitar work borrows from bossanova music, a feathery touch that pulls you into Yorke’s words, but the tune unexpectedly builds to a backing choir that whirls by like wind in a valley.

Then, of course, there are the tracks that ratchet up the tension to a harrowing degree. After mastering the guitar and the Ondes Martenot, Jonny Greenwood charges forward with his orchestral work on the most anxious tracks of A Moon Shaped Pool. On the “low-flying panic attack” of Burn the Witch, the collegno strings create an agitated rhythm for Yorke’s lyrics against groupthink. When he sings, “we know where you live,” the strings swoop down into the abyss, drowning out all else. The paranoia is equally palpable on the watery piano ballad of Glass Eyes, where Yorke is frightened by faces of “concrete grey.” Shrill strings momentarily rise up before fading back, like a hand nearly grabbing an unsuspecting person from behind.  Ful Stop charges forward with a low-humming bass groove and alien synths, always staying on the edge of exploding, but never losing its taut restraint. Yorke’s stutters out lines like “You really messed up everything,” “Take me back again” and “Truth will mess you up”  over and over, trying to give his words power through sheer repetition. On Identikit, which pulls off Paranoid Android‘s trick of being three songs in one, Yorke explores betrayal, frustration and “broken hearts” that “make it rain.” As his vocal changes in intensity, the music moves with him, going from an off-kilter rhythm to the best earworm chorus on the album to a squiggly guitar solo.

Many of these songs can be interpreted around Yorke’s recent separation with his long-time partner Rachel Owen. While a few tracks pre-date the end of that relationship, they still fit into that framework, creating a lyrical theme that pops up throughout the record. But two songs fit into Yorke’s lost relationship more than any others and without surprise, they are the two most direct and devastating tracks on the album. Daydreaming, with its effortless, gorgeous piano line, wrings every drop of pathos out of each note played and each word sung. “The damage is done,” Yorke remarks in defeat. As the track closes, the keys are buried under a haunted mix of cello and reverse vocals that echo out, “Half of my life,” the length of Yorke’s relationship with Owen. It’s fitting then that A Moon Shaped Pool ends with a song that’s been around nearly as long. True Love Waits, with keys replacing the acoustic guitar of early live versions, is one of Yorke’s best moments as a songwriter, a fan favorite that lives up to its reputation. The longing behind every iteration of “Just don’t leave” is relatable to nearly everyone, a universal theme that Yorketaps into like few others can. It’s the perfect ending for an equally perfect album.

With A Moon Shaped Pool, Radiohead didn’t reinvent the wheel, but instead crafted an emotionally resonant, musically unexpected and richly rewarding album. It’s mind-boggling how a band can keep up such a level of artistry after almost 30 years together. But by taking various elements from not only their collective past, but also the work they’ve done separately, Radiohead has created something wholly new and utterly entrancing. They’ve done it again.


This article first appeared at Consequence of Sound on December 7th, 2009.



When people look at Radiohead, the first person everyone notices is either Thom Yorke or Jonny Greenwood. That’s not surprising given that Yorke, as the frontman, is in charge of the songs’ lyrics, vocals, and occasionally crazy dancing. For Greenwood to get recognition, all he has to do is play his guitar and the audience’s attention will hone in on him. However, neither Yorke’s singing nor Greenwood’s chord progressions would move forward much without the strong, rhythmic drumming supplied by Phil Selway.

Selway was born on May 23, 1967, in Abingdon, Oxfordshire. He met all of his future bandmates while attending Abingdon School, a boys-only public school. In 1985 the five students formed the band that would eventually turn into Radiohead. Originally called On A Friday (due to that being their usual rehearsal day), the band played its first show in late 1986 in Oxford’s Jericho Tavern. The band’s trajectory was put on hold for a few years when all of the members, except for Greenwood, gained their university degrees. Selway studied English History at Liverpool John Moores University. He even had a job as an English teacher at one point before his music career took off.

Once everyone had received their degrees, On A Friday began to ascend quickly. Through recording demos like Manic Hedgehog and active gigging, the band caught the attention of Chris Hufford and Bryan Edge, who became the group’s managers. After a chance meeting between bassist Colin Greenwood and EMI representative Keith Wozencroft, On A Friday was signed to a six-album record deal in 1991. Changing its name to Radiohead, taken from a Talking Heads song, the band released its debut EP, Drill, in late 1992. From there, the history is well known.

Selway’s drumming stuck to the classic/alternative rock style for Radiohead’s first two album, Pablo Honey and The Bends. Once OK Computer rolled around, his skills became far more prominent as the music got more experimental. “Airbag” featured an electronic drumbeat programmed from a recording of him playing that lasted only seconds, an experiment with manipulating rhythm that Selway would use greatly on Kid A. “Paranoid Android” highlighted Selway’s speed as well as his ability to quickly move between different timings. If you can tune out the guitar, you’ll hear Selway rip across the drums as he bridges two sides of Greenwood’ solo. On many of the normal 4/4 time songs, he worked in a more repetitive, solid technique, sometimes including a motorik sound.

Once the work on Kid A began, no one in Radiohead stuck with only their known skill set. Everyone was branching out, including Selway. Moving away from the standard drum pads, he started working with drum machines and digital manipulators to create fresh rhythms. The adjustment wasn’t easy for him, though, and he wondered what a drummer was supposed to do on an album without traditional instruments. From the bombastic, apocalyptic “Idioteque” to the slightly stumbling, walking pace of “Morning Bell”, Selway came through to a new territory in terms of innovative timing and the use of technology to advance the songs’ beats.

However, Selway’s ultimate drum track has to be “Pyramid Song”, from 2001′s Amnesiac. The mostly-piano driven piece really begins to take off about halfway through when Sleway’s jazz influenced compound rhythm kicks in. For most people, this song would seem difficult to play along to due to Yorke’s frequent short pauses in the piano melody. However, Selway’s marching jazz beat provides the perfect support for Yorke’s piano and vocals to float over. Just because this was some of his best work, it doesn’t mean that he hasn’t had great tracks as of late. Listen to “There There”, “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi”, and “Reckoner”. You’ll hear the drum pattern of a man who evolved from playing straightforward rock beats to creating some of the most innovative rhythms of the past 20 years.