- As cruel as it sounds, it’s almost pointless to revisit Radiohead’s 1997 masterpiece OK Computer. Not because it’s a redundant record – quite the opposite – but because it has remained an omnipresent cornerstone of rock music ever since it came out. Basically, it’s never been away.

Time is time, however, and the band’s landmark album is now twenty years old. Not only was it a prophetic glimpse at a society overtaken by technology at the expense of human compassion and empathy, but its production and arrangements have yet to date.

The record’s headphone atmospherics and painstaking sonic textures are just as impressive today as they were back in 1997. So although this twentieth anniversary remastering is immaculate, we’re dealing with an album that was already a masterclass in production and studio wizardry.

If you are yet to experience this album, the only advice I could possibly give is to recall how I felt when I first came upon the album way back in its initial release days. I’d heard all the hype before I put it on and I must confess I initially found it an easier record to admire than like. There was the usual soaring emotiveness from vocalist Thom Yorke but this time bending the words in more cryptic shapes; and those aforementioned arrangements made for some pretty darn adventurous music but that very sonic invention kept the listener at an arm’s length. At least for a time.

As many of you will already know, it’s a record that very generously rewards repeated listenings. The unease of a rapidly changing world is always palpable when listening to the album, but it was still a time when the band were happily combining their tech-paranoia with very sophisticated stadium anthems, so as well as album staples like Paranoid Android and busker favourite Karma Police, the likes of Airbag and Subterranean Homesick Alien also revealed themselves to be similarly crowd-pleasing and epic in scale. It was also an example of Radiohead at their most intimate in the big ballads No Surprises, Lucky and, for my money their greatest ever song Let Down.

So if you haven’t experienced OK Computer yet, now is a great time to dive in, but listen closely, preferably on headphones, and give it time for its rich hooks to unravel. For those already familiar, this reissue will be desirable, not just as an opportunity to experience this record again, but also for the eleven bonus tracks including eight B-sides and, most excitingly, three unreleased tracks recorded during the same era.

Of the B-sides, the twinkling instrumental Meeting In The Aisle and electronic lullaby Melatonin hint at the increasingly experimental music the band would go on to make. Of the unreleased tracks, the heavenly ballad I Promise and terrace-chant-worthy singalong Lift hint at the U2-scale status the band could have enjoyed but chose to jettison. They ultimately went for more left-field sounds that despite themselves made an enormous impact on mainstream consciousness anyway.

- Matt Thrower.