Radiohead on Deadeye video magazine

Simon Gill's camcorder finds Thom Yorke at the Old Gaol in Abingdon on the night of a gig for Rwanda, between Pablo Honey and The Bends, and in a combative mood.

Asked what myth he would most like to shatter, he goes straight for the angry young man with nothing to be angry about, then concedes the myth is self-inflicted. He is sour company whenever the press is in the room, because he cannot stand them. Music journalists, he says, are like school bullies who decide what a thing is and never revisit it, which is a good reason to leave Britain.

He is unsparing about Pablo Honey. They were young, barely a band, had hardly played live and had just signed to a huge label, and the record sounds like all of that. He wants to still be making records in five or 10 years, whether or not anyone buys them, and then admits at once that people do have to buy them or there are no records.

The second half turns political. He talks about Western countries selling arms to the countries they later send aid to, and his irritation that no pop star ever says so. He also rejects the idea that a performer exists for other people to live through. Anyone creative does the same thing, he argues, and he has been leaving pieces of himself out for people to pick at since he was a child.