1995 Parlophone/EMI.
Written by Thom Yorke, Ed O’Brien, Jonny Greenwood, Colin Greenwood, and Phil Selway
Produced by John Leckie and Nigel Godrich
Originally on The Bends
Lyrics:
A green plastic watering can
For a fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself
It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out
She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
On girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins
And it wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out
She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can’t help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And it wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out
And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time, all the time
(In celebration of my upcoming Radiohead concert, I’ve decided my first song analysis will be of one of their most-loved hits, “Fake Plastic Trees”. I chose this song because it’s my favorite Radiohead song and is very dear to me, and the music and lyrics are a lot easier to read into than some of the more abstract stuff on albums like OK Computer and Kid A. Enjoy!)
It’s hard to believe this now, after releasing so many monumental albums and becoming one of the world’s biggest rock bands, but in the early 90’s Radiohead were considered nothing more than a one-hit-wonder group, whose breakthrough single “Creep” was seen as an echo of some of the most cathartic grunge hits like Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and Pearl Jam’s “Alive”. The band’s brilliant second album, The Bends, and most notably the single “Fake Plastic Trees”, changed that forever. While “Creep” was a well-written song and definitely had some lasting power, “Fake Plastic Trees” is a work of art. The song starts out as a slow, restrained ballad with just lead singer Thom Yorke’s voice and acoustic guitar, but gradually becomes bigger and more textured: a ghostly synthesizer brings out the song’s simple refrain, and moving string arrangements make the song feel almost epic. Although the rest of the band joins in after the first chorus, the main focus is the gentle acoustic guitar and Thom’s voice, which accents the last line of each verse with an emotional falsetto.
All of that changes at the second chorus, when Thom holds the “it wears me out” line just long enough for Phil Selway’s drums to crash in, introducing an angst-ridden and beautiful distorted guitar line from lead axeman Jonny Greenwood. Suddenly, the whole song has changed from a simple ballad to a heartbreaking symphony of guitars and drums. (When the band plays this song live, it sounds even better: Jonny absolutely rips on his guitar parts and looks like he’s about to smash his Telecaster into pieces!) Even Thom’s voice has changed: when it used to be quiet and gentle, it now shines with emotion. And just as soon as that bit of turmoil begins, it ends, as the instruments fade out and Thom sings “It wears me out”, backed by the same haunting synth-scape as before. But while it seems like the song has finally run out of steam, Thom introduces a new falsetto-laden bridge, and the band joins in again for a peaceful, if resigned, ending.
The lyrics, while not the most original or creative that the band has ever done, are equally emotional and fit in perfectly with the amazing music. Thom Yorke has said the song was written about the rapid commercial development of Canary Wharf in London, and given the use of plastic, rubber and polystyrene as metaphors for people’s lives it’s easy to see “Fake Plastic Trees” as an attack on marketing and commercialization. (The song’s brilliant music video further backs this claim, as it shows the band stuck in shopping carts being pushed around a ghostly white supermarket.) But that explanation is only skimming the surface of the song’s depth. The effects of a world driven by business and mass consumption is a relatively common theme in art today, but Radiohead’s song seems to take things down to a more personal level, showing the lives of individual humans in an un-human world.
The first verse shows this wonderfully: it tells the story of a woman who bought “a green plastic watering can” from a “rubber man in a town full of rubber plans”. Everything about her life seems forced and artificial, as if all the feelings in the world had been sucked out. The town is desperately trying “to get rid of itself”; to destroy its individuality in pursuit of the almighty dollar. (And isn’t it interesting that these sentiments were put to paper in the 1990’s, when even honest songs like this one were being marketed and mass-produced by record labels and Kurt Cobain wannabes?)
The second verse introduces a “broken man” who used to live for the business-driven times (“he used to do surgery for girls in the eighties”) but is now just as distraught as the woman in the first verse (“but gravity always wins”). These two people are joined by their resignation, as Thom directs the “and it wears him out” refrain to both characters. And that leads into the cathartic, beautiful climax: “She looks like the real thing and tastes like the real thing, my fake plastic love.” These are two people in a loveless relationship, or maybe a relationship where all the love is manufactured by chocolate companies and Hallmark cards. Life around them seems to distorted and, well, fake, that maybe escape is the only option: “I can’t help the feeling I could float through the ceiling, if I just turn and run.” The song ends with a whisper, perhaps a sigh of resignation: “if I could be who you wanted all the time”.
Radiohead recorded this song just after seeing a Jeff Buckley concert, and Thom Yorke recorded his vocals in just two takes before breaking down into tears. It’s easy to see why, after listening to this song: “Fake Plastic Trees” is one of the most astounding, moving, and gorgeous songs that I’ve ever heard in my life. While there have been a few cover versions over the years (the most notable being a piano rendition by Scottish folk singer KT Tunstall), nothing compares to the drama of Radiohead’s version. It’s a heartbreaking example of the flaws in our post-modern society, but its message is so universal that it could belong to anybody, in any time.
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