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Thom Yorke: My Autobiography. By Steven Wells
Steven Wells , May 20th, 2009 08:10

As Radiohead reissue their first three albums, Steven Wells presents a series of recollections of the band at different stages in their career

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An extract from:

Thom Yorke: My Autobiography by Steven Wells

AKA

Yorkie — a Life in Pop

Philadelphia, February 2009

"What do you mean you're not paying for it?" I snarled. "There's a fucking fall-over funny anecdote or a red hot sex scene on every page. It's got to be he shit-hottest rock-biog ever."

"Well to be frank," said the stuck up little public school publisher twat, "it sounds like you've just made most of the stuff up."

I blinked hard. What a cunt.

"I thought was kind of the point. Don't start with the "reality" shit. I don't do reality. Same as I don't ghost-biog fucking nonentities. I deal with legends, and that's what Thom Yorke is — a fucking legend. Like Jesus. Or King Arthur. Or Gog And Magog. Reality doesn't come into it. Reality is the base metal anchor that keeps us mired in the fetid shite of the mediocre. I'm an empire, I make my own fucking reality. Wake up and smell the post-Rumsfeldian coffee, man. "

"And apparently Thom Yorke's lawyers are claiming that he's never heard of anyone called Steven Wells and never spoken to you, never mind given you enough material for 80,000 words …'

"Well what does that prove," I laughed. "You've read the manuscript. You can see what a fucking liar he is. All that "I shagged the Spice Girls in this order — Posh, Sporty, Ginger, Scary and last but definitely not least, Baby while a gagged and bound David Beckham looked on, grunting with frustration, helpless to intervene." Like you say, obviously a total lie. So how come you believe him when he says I just made it all up?"

"Did you actually interview Thom Yorke for the book?"

"Yes."

"So the bit where Thom Yorke runs up to Brett out of Suede, shouts: ‘Take that, you cunt!' and breaks both his legs with a sliding tackle on the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury, Thom Yorke actually told you that?"

"You know what? Fuck you. I don't need you. I don't want you publishing my book. You know who will publish it though, in installments, and for at least twice what you tight cunts are paying? The Quietus, that's who."

"The what?"

"The Quietus."

"Fuck off, Wells. Just give us our money back."

"No you fuck off. Plus I'm going to put you in it and make you look like a cunt. "

"On no, please don't do that," he sobbed, like a cunt.

_Click . . . _

Chapter Two

Pablo Honey (1993)

Totally true story, I swear to God. I'm in some godforsaken snake's foreskin of a strip-mall raped Mid Western town. I have racked my brains but I cannot for the life of remember what the fuck I'm doing here. Interviewing some band for the NME, probably...

......The full version of this article is available in Point Close All Quotes: A Quietus Music Anthology. Buy it now in the Amazon Kindle store.

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Ben Graham
May 26, 2009 2:56pm

More, please! Swells tells it like it is, as ever... if only we'd listened to you back in the 80s, 'alternative' music might not be the apologetic, half-arsed corporate whingefest it is today...

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Mike White
Jul 24, 2009 12:12pm

Lord knows we all loved him, but Swells was a cunt.

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ta mere
Nov 4, 2009 3:28pm

Dear God, I feel like I just finished reading 'Twilight' and that dumb bitch decided to never write a piece of shit, poorly contrived but scag-addictive literary sequel. Where is the rest of this article Mr Wells?

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Garry Mulholland
Dec 2, 2009 4:26pm

And this is why I've spent the last 15 years ripping Swells off. Badly. The man was a genius, and right about everything. Except politics.

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New Musical Excrement
Mar 27, 2010 2:19pm

OMG, Yorkie of all things, what does he call you "Swellsy"?
Urban dictionary defintion of a "Yorkie" -
Extreme form of debagging typically performed as an initiation where a man's underpants are removed over his head without first removing his trousers. This involves a great deal of pain to the hapless victim until the crutch snaps and the item can be pulled upwards freely.
Sounds exactly like the experience of listening to Radiohead, pointless, excruciatingly painful and makes your balls ache.

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