For the last decade, every member of Radiohead has been given complete licence to do their own thing. Solo projects are allowed to come first, when the timing’s right. When the opportunity knocks to form a band with Flea, of all people, who says you can’t? Previously all-consuming, life in this band has taken on a new form. And every member of the group - if you include Colin Greenwood’s fashion show catwalk phase - has done their own thing.

The same applied to 2011’s ‘The King of Limbs’, Radiohead’s first attempt at rekindling magic after following opposite strands. There is nothing disastrous about that record. It showcases some of their smartest songwriting - the sound of five brilliantly talented musicians bouncing ideas off each other - and in a song like ‘Separator’, some of their most complete work. But looking back - and when comparing to follow-up ‘A Moon Shaped Pool’ - it has a distinctly patchwork feel. No surprise, really, given the circumstances. But on their ninth album, it’s as if they’ve locked limbs once more for a bigger cause.

Not only is ‘A Moon Shaped Pool’ a rich transformation, lifting from previous Radiohead eras without ever playing the same hand - it’s also the first time the members’ own musical strands have merged so drastically. Jonny Greenwood, a man fascinated with classical composition since before the band formed, has finally had his way. Phil Selway’s rigid, smart percussion is more pronounced than ever. Christ knows what Ed O’ Brien’s doing, but he’s definitely here for a reason, subtle atmospherics and entangled guitar parts being his thing. Colin Greenwood’s basslines are increasingly adventurous, sliding in from unexpected sides and lifting gloomy verses towards his brother’s string-filled codas. Yorke’s moody abstraction remains the glue, but he’s at his most direct, here - almost acknowledging the beauty being meddled with on this record.