Ed O’Brien of Radiohead is strolling down the beach in Santa Monica on a recent afternoon as he reminisces about his first trip to Los Angeles.
“I came here in ’87 on a Greyhound,” the guitarist says. “I was traveling around America between high school and college, and I remember arriving in downtown L.A. from San Francisco at 6 in the morning. Downtown was sort of hollowed out — like, ‘Where is everything?’ So I got on another bus and ended up in Huntington Beach for a week.” He laughs.
“Next time I came was with the band in ’93 — got picked up at LAX in a limo.”
Three decades later, O’Brien is in town by himself again to spread the word about his new solo album, “Blue Morpho.” Spawned from a mid-pandemic struggle with depression, it’s a lush and slightly spooky psychedelic-folk excursion that O’Brien made with help from the producer Paul Epworth, the jazz musician Shabaka Hutchings and Radiohead’s drummer, Philip Selway. (Epworth, a Grammy and Oscar winner thanks to his work with Adele, was familiar to O’Brien as a fellow dad from his kids’ school.)
Last month, O’Brien, who’s 58, released a short film to accompany the LP that shows him wandering the woods near his home in Wales; in October, he’ll head out on a European tour behind “Blue Morpho,” which follows his 2020 solo debut, “Earth.” Dressed in dark trousers and a denim jacket, he discussed his life and music on the beach walk and over tea on the patio at the Viceroy hotel.
In Pitchfork’s review of “Blue Morpho,” the writer described you as Radiohead’s “most politically engaged yet most reclusive member.” Fair or unfair?
I don’t know whether I’m the most politically engaged, but I definitely have my beliefs. I studied politics and economics at university, so it’s hard not to have views on things. If you don’t understand economics, you can’t understand our system. Reading people like Naomi Klein and Jeffrey Sachs — I’m interested in why we are where we are.
Which is where?
F—. All the Western democracies are suffering at the moment because the economic success of the mid-’80s was built on borrowed money. What’s happening now? The debt is so large that we can’t pay it back. And why can’t we pay it back? Because the means we used to have — taxation — don’t work anymore.
You’re a rich guy. Do you think you should be taxed more?
I’m taxed at 50% of everything I own.
Is that a good number in your view?
I think that’s a fine number if it works — if everyone pays it. I’m rich, but I’m not super rich, and the super rich don’t pay anything.
So you may or may not be the most politically engaged member of Radiohead. What about the most reclusive?
I’m not a hermit, but I live in Wales, and I’m trying to regenerate the land and all this stuff. I’m also Dad. My kids are 22 and 20 now, but that’s taken up a huge amount of my time. I’m the product of a broken family, so I understand the preciousness of children and family life.
If I called one of your kids and asked if you were an active part of their life, what would they say?
They’d say there were times when he was away — I wrestled with that — but they would say yeah. I was lucky because I was there for my son’s first year — I didn’t have any Radiohead, so I changed the first nappies, and I loved it. The moment they were born, it was suddenly way more important than music.
This new solo album addresses your mental health. As a parent, did you ever face the thought that depression is selfish?
I was aware that I didn’t want to frighten my kids with it. This was 2021, so they were 17 and 15. I knew how to get up in the morning, although it was hard, and I knew I had to be present. I’m quite good at hiding stuff — I’m quite a people pleaser. That was my MO, and it served the band and it served my family. But it wasn’t serving me because I wasn’t registering how I really felt. And if you’re not being honest with yourself, you can’t make honest music. That’s what I learned from the first album.
With respect, that album didn’t do much for me.
It didn’t do much for me either.
Can you unpack that?
There’s sort of half-truths in that record. I was obsessed with Brazil and Brazilian music, and I kind of forced it into a certain thing. What I learned from this record is to let go and just be completely open — to get out of the way and feel my way through it. But that process requires you to be supremely honest because you’re following a thread, and the truth needs to stay on that thread.
What’s a song from the album where the thread led you somewhere unexpected?
“Blue Morpho.” “Solfeggio.” “Sweet Spot.” Oh, “Obrigado.”
You’re just naming all of them.
I mean, they all took their own path. In a sense, these songs were already written. My job, it’s almost like an archaeology of the future.
Why are songwriters so eager to say, “I channeled this — it just came through me”?
Because it’s the truth. You don’t know how it happens.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Songs don’t come through me.
You have to apply yourself — you have to turn up. It’s like a practice. The spirit doesn’t join you unless you’ve shown you’ve got an aptitude or a willingness to work with it. And you’re not given anything immediately. You’re given little things so that you stay at it, and if you stay with the right intention, eventually you can feel the spirit tapping you on the shoulder. You hear stories of Paul McCartney where “Yesterday” arrives fully formed. But he’s in that period because he never stopped writing — it just gets richer and richer and richer.
Back to the recluse thing: There’s a funny contradiction in that you’re also the heartthrob in Radiohead.
OK, well, heartthrob — I don’t know about that. I like people, and I like meeting people. The recluse part is I don’t like being in the public eye.
Always true?
Always true. I hate awards ceremonies. The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, Philip and I only did it because no one else was gonna stand up.
You did look pretty uncomfortable.
Oh my God, it was a nightmare. But America’s been such an important country for us that to not turn up would’ve been churlish. It was scary — big enormodome in Brooklyn. And of course I made the schoolboy error: Day before, we did a run-through and they said, “Do you want to put your speech on the prompter?” I said, “Nah.” Everyone — even Trent [Reznor]’s thing — was on the prompter. We get up there and I’m like, “Oh, f—.”
Speaking of awards ceremonies: “OK Computer” was nominated for album of the year at the Grammys in 1998. You lost to Bob Dylan’s “Time Out of Mind.”
Right — produced by Daniel Lanois.
“Kid A” was then nominated for album of the year. You lost to Steely Dan’s “Two Against Nature.”
I remember that — we sat behind them. I didn’t expect us to win. What’s nice about those things — well, not nice, but I get it — is that they wanted to honor Steely Dan, so they gave them album of the year. Was that album as good as “Kid A”? I don’t know, probably not. But it’s not just about the album — it’s the career.
You lost again in 2009 with “In Rainbows.” Robert Plant and Alison Krauss won for “Raising Sand.”
Oh, I love that record.
But the point is that Radiohead —
Is always losing?
Losing specifically to a classic rock veteran.
I wonder if we ever did another record, which I’m not saying we would, but would it finally win album of the year at the Grammys? Being Radiohead, we’d be like, “Oh, you’re just giving it to us because we’re 85 and we finally decided to make another record.”
What’s Radiohead’s best album?
I don’t think it’s the best, but my favorite is “In Rainbows.”
What’s the worst?
“Pablo Honey.” Easy.
Besides “Creep,” I can’t say I think much about “Pablo Honey.”
There you go. “Creep” is like an aberration — it wasn’t really a Radiohead song. It doesn’t feel like part of the canon.
Couple more for you: There’s a perception that Radiohead is divided on the issue of Gaza. You’ve been forthright in saying that’s not necessarily the case. But should a rock band be unified in thought?
No. We’re five very different people. I think a band should represent a community with a plurality of views. Have we all agreed on stuff? No. Will we ever all agree on stuff? It’s hard enough agreeing on the music.
You praised Kneecap’s performance last year at Glastonbury, where they led a “Free Palestine” chant. Do you think carefully about how an endorsement like that will be scrutinized?
No. I try to speak my truth.
Ed O’Brien in Santa Monica.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Has that gotten harder?
Of course it has. But I’m the guy that got hit by both sides. I said that October the 7th was a pogrom, which it was. But I’d also say that Gaza was a genocide. Both sides don’t like you saying that, but it’s the truth. My mantra at the moment is “Confound the binary.” You know how the battle lines are drawn up, and I see truth and lies in both camps. And we’re all being manipulated, which social media plays up.
Who do you think is doing the manipulating?
I think there are powers that be that we can’t see.
Government? Money? Religion?
Follow the money. Everything in life — follow the money. Look at the economic aspect of what happens in the Middle East. Who’s profiting? You’ve got a huge military-industrial complex in America and in Israel. Ka-ching.
Radiohead played 20 shows across Europe in 2025. You’ve said the band will play 20 more on a different continent in 2027.
Take that with a pinch of salt. I don’t think we’ll do any more than 20 shows.
Why is that the right way to do Radiohead now?
Because you can’t do any more — these songs, they’re too powerful. The shows last year were really emotional. By the end of it, you were drained. The audience has gotten very young — our biggest demographic, which you can see from streaming, is 16 to 24. There’s an outpouring of emotion from them and from us, so in order to do more shows, you’d have to somehow limit the amount you gave to each performance. And I think we’re unwilling to do that.
