Radiohead need help...from Cheryl



Radiohead, O2 Arena

Cheryl Cole, O2 Arena



Anyone who thinks popular music is too similar should have spent last Sunday and Monday at Britain’s biggest indoor venue. In the pink corner at the O2 was Cheryl Cole, singer and TV personality, famous mainly for being famous.

Her career is built on hair and beauty, style and charm, and a popular mandate: her big break, joining Girls Aloud, came in a vote.



She is the nation’s sweetheart. Many have held that office but Cheryl is both glamorous and cuddly, a combination previously achieved only by Felicity Kendal and Kylie Minogue.



Getting physical: Cheryl's show at the O2 was pacy but lacked great songs

In the grey corner were Radiohead – five blokes in their 40s who are seldom seen on the telly. Neither glamorous nor cuddly, they have built a career on intensity, musicality and the itch to innovate.



They have made eight albums in 19 years, plus umpteen solo projects. Their music is art-rock, with no hint of pop. Cheryl has made eight albums too (five with Girls Aloud, three solo), but she is a singles act. Her music is dance-pop, with not a whiff of rock.



If Cheryl had a band with her at the O2, they weren’t visible. Her set was made up of building blocks in the shape of a pyramid, a stairway to Heaven. The blocks had video projected on to them, so the stage was also a screen.



She wore four costumes (Kylie tends to have seven or eight), all sharp and different: a gold print jumpsuit; a tight black leather skirt and top; a futuristic purple ballgown, made for a blowing in the wind machine; and a sexed-up version of her gym kit. The first three outfits showed off her curves, while the fourth revealed only her stomach, which is not curvy at all.



Her audience was half young families, half gay men. She had several dancers, and did some dancing herself, reminding us that she once did a stint at the Royal Ballet summer school as well as being named Most Attractive Girl at the Metrocentre in Gateshead.



Her show was pacy and light. Featuring lasers, fireworks, a blizzard of glitter and two guests (Will.i.am and Wretch 32), it was an exercise in putting on 75 minutes of decent entertainment without any great songs. The tracks with the most personality were in a Girls Aloud medley.



Radiohead played for an hour longer. They do have great songs, but don’t always play them.



Of their well-loved old ballads, only Karma Police survives. The stage was cluttered with instruments including a second drum kit; at times they had four people on percussion.



The story of rock is partly the story of tunes giving way to beats, and Radiohead now cook up fiercely complicated polyrhythms, easier to admire than to enjoy. Their fans are mostly white, male, heterosexual and knowledgeable.



Their idea of a costume change is Thom Yorke taking off his jacket. With his beard and ponytail, he is like a thoughtful goblin, until he dances and turns into an electrocuted rag doll. His voice is a glorious ghostly wail; Cheryl’s, while stronger than before, is anonymous.



Radiohead are from Abingdon, Oxfordshire, middle-class and educated. Cheryl came from a council estate in Newcastle, and, when asked to name her favourite fictional heroine, she picked The Little Mermaid. But she is not short of native wit.



Some of Radiohead’s songs are too astringent, others have a wintry beauty. They have been making creative use of live video since 2003, but here the urge to be progressive runs away with them. There are 12 small mobile screens, which move too much and show too little.



Cheryl played one night at the O2, with one section closed off, so the crowd was perhaps 18,000. Radiohead did two nights in the full arena, selling 40,000 tickets. They charged £65 for good seats to Cheryl’s £40, so their revenue will have been about £2 million while hers was more like £600,000. A performer who exists to be popular is actually less popular than a band who are barely trying to be popular at all.

