I set my watch to it. No matter if I’m listening to my Wilco station, my Phish station, my National station, even my Slayer station (I don’t tell people about my Kelly Clarkson station), at some point in the day Pandora is going to serve me up “Fake Plastic Trees” by Radiohead.
I understand that Pandora has classified me, based on my own explicit feedback, as a thirty-something, open-minded musical aficionado with eclectic taste, which apparently screams “Radiohead”. Unfortunately, Radiohead happens to be the most overrated band in the universe.
The problem is compounded by the fact that “Fake Plastic Trees” is one of the few Radiohead songs I actually like, so I can’t give it a thumbs-down just to avoid other whiny ditties from these blokes. I’ll tolerate and appreciate a couple of tracks from Pablo Honey as well, and that’s about it.
What I really detest is Pandora’s categorization of me as a Radiohead fan. Radiohead fans are the most horrifying and confounding species discovered since some unlucky anthropologist first stumbled upon a tiger eating its young. It’s an immutable law of nature: Like monkeys throw crap at each other, Radiohead fans preach the pompous, contrived gospel of Thom Yorke to any unfortunate soul within earshot.
Rant over. Carry on.