It’s 1993 at the Town and Country Club in London, the well-known band Radiohead is on their first tour, ‘Drill’ and they’re performing at a place where people know you, partially for your angsty personality, partly for your bluntness, and mainly for your loudness. It was nearing midnight in the club, everyone was drunk, and singing along while the band performed.

Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood, Ed O'Brien, Colin Greenwood, and Phil Selway were on the stage, getting ready to perform their infamous single, ‘Creep’, but before they began, Thom asked for a volunteer to sing the vocals. People started flailing in their seats, some were begging to be that volunteer, but most people were begging for you to sing it. You sat in the back of the country club, back against the wall, knees coddled up against your chest your hair was teased carelessly and you smelled of cigarettes, you were the perfect person to sing it. Members of the band started prodding you onto the stage, and you reluctantly stood up and started walking up the stairs to the centre, now standing behind the microphone.

After you exchanged places either Thom, he went into the audience and sat on a chair, and instruments started playing. After about two minutes of singing, you got near the end of the song, specific lyrics approached you, “She run, run, run, run.” The last word tested your voice, everyone in the room wanted to see if your (metaphorically) damaged vocal cords could produce such a sound.

They could. They allowed the word to be sang, only, your voice was full of angst, trauma from all throughout your existence was catching up to you brutally, the more trauma that flashed before your eyes, the louder your voice rose, the croakier you sounded. Your head was shaking as you went on. The only sound in the room, beside the instruments, was your verbal angst, and a few glasses hitting cloth on the tables. Thom was shocked. Utterly shocked.