Ed O’Brien didn’t set out to make a solo record. In fact, he was probably the last person to think he’d make one. “No way,” he said flatly. “My life was very full with Radiohead and my young family.” But Earth, the sprawling, groove-heavy, quietly euphoric album he eventually emerged with, had other plans. And so did the planet, apparently.
“There was this emotional place I had to return to,” O’Brien said, describing the recording process as if it were time travel. “It all started in Brazil, taking time off with the family. That adventure informed the entire record.” He’s not exaggerating. The record may as well have a suntan. And a fever dream. And a hangover from staring too long at the stars.
O’Brien might’ve been late to the solo game, but he didn’t come unprepared. He recruited producer Flood—yes, that Flood, the one with PJ Harvey and U2 and basically the entire sound of the 1990s on his resume. “Flood talks a lot about demos having power,” O’Brien said. “That’s when it’s most raw, when you capture the spirit. And that’s what we were trying to do.” The demos, he admitted, were like emotional bookmarks—aural postcards from that fertile Brazil trip when the idea of Earth first sparked.
And while it sounds like a spiritual awakening, don’t mistake it for a scented-candle affair. O’Brien wanted joy. And bass. And yes, even 808 State. “The track ‘Olympik’—with a K—is an homage to that era,” he grinned. “It’s existential funk. It’s also a nod to 808 State’s track ‘Cubik’… with a K.” That’s right, Radiohead’s lankiest member built an entire song around a pun that sounds like a sports drink from the future.
But amid the rhythm and synths, the soul of Earth is earnest. “I didn’t want to make a record that says ‘everything’s gonna be fine.’ Because it’s not. But I didn’t want to make a record that says ‘everything is shit’ either. Because it’s not that, either.”
It’s a worldview shaped by a decade of watching the planet tilt on its axis—from Brexit to Bolsonaro to the accelerating climate crisis. “This planet is beautiful,” he insisted. “We’ve taken it for granted. Indigenous cultures knew better. Then we got skyscrapers and Wi-Fi and forgot we were part of it.” His solution isn’t slogans. It’s love. “There’s not a lot of that word in Radiohead songs,” he laughed, “but I use it a lot here. Because we need more of it.”
O’Brien’s lyrical tone draws from gospel and soul, genres he said taught him how to turn darkness into light. Which might explain the surprise duet with Laura Marling at the album’s end. “I wanted to bring it all back to something small and intimate,” he said. “Because this record’s from the heart. Not the head.”
He also recruited Colin Greenwood—the only Radiohead member to guest on another’s solo record, breaking an unspoken rule of separation. “We’ve all done our own thing, and I think there’s respect in that,” he said. “But Colin being on this, that meant a lot. It wasn’t planned—it just felt right.”
And what he heard, it turns out, was a hopeful heartbeat beneath the chaos. Earth might be born of darkness, but it refuses to stay there. It dances. It glows. It remembers the light. And somewhere in Brazil, on a beach or a mountaintop, Ed O’Brien is probably still trying to catch it.
Listen to the interview above and then check out the videos below.
