(Credits: Far Out / YouTube Still)
Sun 29 March 2026 9:30, UK
When you’re in the early stages of your career as a band, every time you get handed a chance to do something for the first time, the overwhelming feeling within the camp prior to embarking on this opportunity is going to be “don’t fuck it up” – unless you’re Radiohead, that is.
Despite going on to become a band renowned for making introspective art rock for sad sack individuals, not to mention a beloved one at that, Radiohead’s early performances were filled with carnage, and a sense of brattish confidence that one might expect more from their US grunge contemporaries. They’d eventually grow out of this phase when frontman Thom Yorke’s songwriting evolved beyond being a vehicle for his rockstar posturing, but everyone’s got to start somewhere.
Throughout the first few years of the 1990s, Radiohead found themselves breezing through all of their significant firsts as a group, from playing their first gig under the moniker at the Psychic Pig in my hometown of Trowbridge, Wiltshire, in late 1991, releasing their standout debut single ‘Creep’ in 1992, albeit to an initial muted response, all the way to having their debut album, Pablo Honey, out by early 1993. It might seem like a whirlwind of activity to be able to take on all at once, but the band appeared, on the surface of things, to be handling it with aplomb.
However, all would shift when the band were offered their first chance to perform on US television, when they were booked to play an ill-fitting slot as part of MTV’s Beach House series. Set up to perform in the searing July heat next to a swimming pool and surrounded by precocious Long Island socialite teens, everything about the show screamed the opposite of what Radiohead represented. This was either set to be the performance that defined their career in the best way or an absolute train wreck from start to finish.
As part of their appearance, the band were booked to play ‘Creep’ on Beach House, and nothing more. The song, upon its re-release, had risen up the UK charts and was beginning to gain traction in the US as well, even though nothing else they had done was turning heads at the time. Given how it was pretty much the only song that anyone watching the show would be vaguely familiar with, this was all that was required of them.
Despite that, the band opted to dive into a rendition of ‘Anyone Can Play Guitar’ straight after finishing ‘Creep’, which prompted something of a frenzy among the production staff and camera operators who thought their job was over. Panning frantically back to the band, it was clear that they wanted to make this second song considerably more unhinged in its delivery, and Yorke certainly made the most of this impromptu opportunity.
From changing the lyrics to bursting blood vessels in his face as he screamed into the camera, it was a riotous performance, if somewhat cringeworthy for Yorke and co to look back on. “We swore that would be the last time we’d do that fucking thing,” Yorke proclaimed to Spin in 1994, as if to note his dissatisfaction with the entire ordeal. As it happens, it was almost the last show they ever did, had it not been for the intervention of 22-year-old PA, Adam Freeman.
After his episode of hollering down the barrel of the camera lens, Yorke chose to hurl himself into the swimming pool in front of the stage, which Freeman noted in a 2006 blog post was a far more dangerous stunt than it would have seemed. “Thom was wearing Doc Martin ankle-high boots,” he recalled. “These boots immediately filled with water. Thom began to struggle, but of course, no one could really tell. He was pushing from the bottom of the pool to the top and sinking again. The band continued to play their asses off.”
Freeman continued, noting how Yorke eventually made it to the edge of the pool but was unable to hoist himself up over the edge as he choked. “I rushed on to the stage just as Thom had grabbed the only thing he could – the live microphone cord.” Not only had Yorke almost drowned, but in attempting to save his own life, almost electrocuted himself as well.
Still working in television production, Freeman jokes that Radiohead owe their existence to him. “Afterwards, we never got a thank you from Thom,” he regretfully recalled, “But a rep from Capitol Records told us, ‘You just saved that band’s career.’ She was joking, kind of.” Joking or not, had Yorke met his maker on that day, the entire history of modern rock music could well have been altered, and Radiohead would simply be that band that tragically ended at a poolside performance that they clearly never wanted to do.
