It’s Thom Yorke’s birthday and that makes me so fucking happy. My life, so many people’s lives, would be so different if he were not born. In big ways: would there even be a Radiohead? And in an uncountable number of small ways – everyone who ever listened to a song he sang, every path he walked on, ever cause he ever championed or disdained, his friends, his family, everyone he encountered – is changed. I have friends whom I would not have. I have sounds in my head and heart that would not be there. I have ideas about things I would not have. I have pictures and experiences of Coachella, of Club Amok, of stopping everything just to listen to a song and think, Or feel. I hope he feels lucky to be himself and happy today to celebrate himself. I know we are lucky to have him. Happy birthday to Himself, Thom Fucking Yorke.