Where the long, long-awaited return of Oasis dominated the summer, filling the stadiums of the UK with sploshing pints, sneaky vapes and Adidas as far as the eye could see, it makes sense that Radiohead - that other too-long-absent British rock institution - should wait until the winter months set in to mark their own homecoming.
Having shapeshifted over a more than three decade tenure, moving from the riffy youthful antagonism of 1993 debut Pablo Honey to the haunting symphonies of 2016’s most recent LP A Moon Shaped Pool via some of the most accomplished and acclaimed records in history, the through-line has always been in their outlook: wary, damning, apocalyptic. A band for the bleak nights and the end times (which look a lot like right now).
