This Is What You Get (Apparently)

I’ll admit it upfront: I’m not a Radiohead devotee. I admire their success, of course, and I know they hail from just down the road in Abingdon. And yes, I recognise the iconic image of the resuscitation dummy from The Bends album – taken, so the story goes, in the bowels of the John Radcliffe Hospital. But when it comes to their music, I’ve never quite ‘got’ it. Perhaps I’m missing the Radiohead gene.

So I approached This Is What You Get – the new exhibition at the Ashmolean – with curiosity rather than reverence. Subtitled as a journey through hits, rarities, and notebooks, it explores the visual partnership between Thom Yorke and artist Stanley Donwood, whose work has accompanied Radiohead’s music since the mid-1990s.

It just so happens that I’d recently seen the RSC’s arresting new production of Hamlet, which made striking use of tracks from Hail to the Thief. That particular album features heavily in the exhibition – dark, anxious, politically charged – and having just heard it underscoring Shakespeare’s Danish tragedy, I felt oddly well-prepared for the tone of the show. Even I could see how the jagged, abstract artwork mirrored the music’s fractured unease.

There’s no doubt that for die-hard fans, this will feel like something between a pilgrimage and a treasure hunt. From the early album sleeves to personal sketches and scribbled fears (“Iran”, “ganja”, “getting fat”, “the suffering of millions”), it’s a glimpse into the inner workings of a famously enigmatic artist and his long-time collaborator. One notebook even features an alternative track list for Hail to the Thief – which, I’m told, is better than the original. Who am I to argue?

The exhibition wisely doesn’t try to pipe Radiohead’s music into the gallery. Yorke himself insisted on silence – letting the art speak for itself. It’s a bold choice and, I imagine, quite a relief for those of us who might struggle to tell our Kid A from our In Rainbows.

Much of the artwork is, frankly, intense – jagged mountains, glitched-out cityscapes, disturbing cartoonish figures, and forests stripped bare. It charts the band’s musical evolution in visual form: from the early angst of OK Computer to the abstract splatter of Kid A and the more serene, sun-filled work created after lockdown with Yorke’s latest band, The Smile. There are teacups in the gift shop for £42, naturally.

But here’s the thing: while I found the exhibition fascinating, I didn’t connect with the art in any deep or emotional way. It didn’t move me, and perhaps that’s the point. It’s not my story. It’s theirs – Yorke and Donwood’s – and the thousands of fans who have found meaning, melancholy, and something magical in Radiohead’s universe over the past thirty years.

For those fans, this will be a deeply rewarding experience. For the rest of us, it’s still worth the visit – not least for the reminder that creativity takes many forms, not all of them immediately accessible or comforting. Some art whispers to you. Some art shouts. And some – like this – sits in the corner, arms folded, daring you to understand it.

And in a strange way, that made me think about my own theme for the year as High Sheriff: Hearing the Young Unheard. Because there’s something quietly powerful about giving space to voices and visions that don’t always shout the loudest. Whether it's a teenager trying to navigate a noisy world or an artist working in the shadows of a band’s success, it matters that we take the time to stop, look, and listen – even if we don’t always ‘get’ it at first.

This Is What You Get runs at the Ashmolean Museum until 11 January. Whether you walk away inspired, confused, or clutching a £42 teacup, you’ll certainly have seen something you don’t see every day.