Everyone loves Radiohead or at least they would if this was a just, intelligent and discerning world

I have only ever made three predictions as to which knobbly-kneed rock gods of the moment will be waving to their moms in the Royal Box at Enormo-Dome gigs by the end of the year. In 1992 it was obvious that the Cranberries would soon have hordes of sunburnt thirtysomethings experiencing Emotional Moments to Dolores O'Riordan's schoolteacherly bawling. In late 1992, when Suede released their second single, I felt the world seemed hungry for corduroy hipsters and bottom-slapping antics. A year later, Suede was the first debut album to go straight to No1 since Frankie Goes to Hollywood's in 1982. And in January 1994, before their debut single was out, I smugly posited the theory that Oasis would become larger than the kingdoms of heaven and hell combined. Two record-breaking albums and the biggest ever UK indoor gig later, I have rewarded my foresight with a big pie.

So when I say that Radiohead are the most important band in Britain at the moment; the best live band I've ever seen; that their records will sell millions of copies worldwide; and that they will be the next British band to rule America, I am confident my prescience record will be unbroken. It's a belief I'm not alone in holding: Chris Parry, boss of the Cure's record label, is convinced Radiohead will be rivalling U2's record sales "within two years". Michael Stipe of R.E.M. is "frightened by how good they are", and took Radiohead on R.E.M.'s American tour as support. Radiohead's most recent album, The Bends, garnered superlatives from every reviewer, The Times's own David Sinclair calling it "the album of the decade". Radiohead will become one of those bands of which the whole country will be proud.

The two main obstacles to worldwide domination have been brought about, ironically enough, by Radiohead's prodigious songwriting talent. They are still known mainly for Creep, their platinum ball-and-chain debut single, penned by lead singer Thom Yorke when he was 17. A painfully honest anthem to the extreme self-loathing unrequited love inspires, it is Creep which Yorke is surely addressing on My Iron Lung, the first single from The Bends. Creep kept the band alive financially, but it immobilised them; a universally loved iron lung, constricting their further growth. Radiohead are still trying to live down the "shame" of their debut album, Pablo Honey, selling two million copies. In response to this "shame", they purposely made The Bends as inventive and febrile and impassioned as possible, making their sound even further leftfield, while writing melodies sweet enough for even deaf milkmen to whistle.

This was their second, self-inflicted mistake since, concentrating merely on the sound, many radio stations declined to put them on their playlists including Radio 1, which has, to the incomprehension of the entire industry, refused to playlist their current single, Lucky.

This would be an outrage on the strength of the single alone a gracefully despairing lament which uses its dying breath to reach the exquisitely racked chorus, before collapsing into guitar solo and ghost-choir. But in addition the song was written especially for the Bosnian War Child charity project and, by denying the song airplay, Radio 1 has basically prevented the song from charting.

Radiohead are still seen as outsiders, too different from the Adidas-clad Britpop herd to be taken seriously. Can you imagine a new Pulp charity single being excluded from the playlist?

However, a band on such a creative high as Radiohead will win through eventually. Songs as powerful and truthful as Lucky and every track on The Bends demand to be heard; they will fight free soon, and find their way to you, wherever you are, whatever you're doing.