A gray-skies compendium of gracefully dejected songs, A Moon Shaped Pool finds Radiohead playing to their most serene strengths. With creepy strings and toy-box gloom reminiscent of their OK Computer days, the album has all the sad sonics of their most nostalgic favorites but with none of the bombast. Recalling Portishead’s Third and the Liars’ catalog but so quintessentially Radiohead, it’s like moonlight on water: soft, elusive, mysterious, and hypnotic. “Decks Dark” is a beautiful dirge, while “Ful Stop” is a groovy panic-dance à la “The National Anthem,” and “Present Tense” is about as lovely as music gets. Rejoice in holy melancholy.