It’s been years.
Honestly, the first time I sat down with A Moon Shaped Pool, the world felt different. Not just the music industry, but the actual vibe of being a Radiohead fan. We had spent years—literally over a decade for some tracks—waiting for "True Love Waits" to finally get a studio home. When that piano finally kicked in, sparse and devastating, it didn't feel like a typical album release. It felt like a collective exhale.
Radiohead doesn't really do "simple," but this record was surprisingly human. Gone was the frantic, polyrhythmic jitteriness of The King of Limbs. In its place? Something lush. Something deeply, almost uncomfortably, intimate. It’s an album defined by space, reverb, and the heavy presence of Nigel Godrich’s production, which, let’s be real, is basically the sixth member of the band. If you've ever wondered why this specific collection of songs feels so much more "organic" than their mid-2000s output, you have to look at the London Contemporary Orchestra. They aren't just background noise here. They are the heartbeat.
The Ghost of Nigel Godrich and the Analog Warmth
Most people think A Moon Shaped Pool is just a "sad" record. It’s way more technical than that. During the recording sessions at La Fabrique studio in France—a gorgeous old mill—the band leaned heavily into tape loops.
You can hear it on "Daydreaming." That reversed, garbled vocal at the end? It’s Thom Yorke’s voice, but it sounds like it’s being swallowed by the machine. Jonny Greenwood, ever the mad scientist, used his Ondes Martenot and various modular synths to create textures that feel like they’re decaying in real-time. This isn't digital perfection. It’s noisy. It’s hissy. It’s perfect because it’s flawed.
The strings on "Burn the Witch" are a masterclass in tension. Instead of sweeping, romantic melodies, the orchestra is instructed to play col legno—striking the strings with the wood of the bow. It creates this percussive, stabbing anxiety that sets the tone for the entire project. It’s a sharp contrast to the rest of the album’s fluid, watery nature.
That "True Love Waits" Problem
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Or rather, the song in the room.
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"True Love Waits" had been the Holy Grail for fans since the mid-90s. We all had those crusty live bootlegs from 1995 where Thom plays it on an acoustic guitar, sounding desperate and hopeful. By the time it landed on A Moon Shaped Pool, the hope was gone. The transition from a folk-tinged ballad to a cold, dual-piano arrangement was a gutsy move. It mirrored Thom Yorke’s personal life at the time—specifically his separation from his longtime partner, Rachel Owen, who sadly passed away not long after the album’s release.
You can’t separate the art from the artist here. The lyrics "just don't leave" hit differently when you realize the history behind them. Some critics argued the piano version stripped the song of its power. I’d argue it did the opposite. It made the song honest. It wasn't a campfire sing-along anymore; it was a dirge.
A Tracklist Built on History
Radiohead are the kings of recycling. Seriously.
- "Burn the Witch" dated back to the Kid A sessions.
- "Present Tense" was first played solo by Thom at Latitude Festival in 2009.
- "Identikit" and "Ful Stop" were staples of the 2012 tour.
The weirdest thing about A Moon Shaped Pool is how it’s organized alphabetically. "Burn the Witch," "Daydreaming," "Decks Dark"... all the way to "True Love Waits." It seems like a random, almost lazy way to order an album, yet it flows better than almost anything in their catalog. "Decks Dark" serves as the pivot point. It’s got that classic Radiohead "aliens are coming but I have bills to pay" vibe. The choir in the background is haunting, and Colin Greenwood’s bass line is arguably one of the best things he’s ever written. It’s understated but absolutely carries the groove.
Why "Daydreaming" Is the Real Masterpiece
If you haven't watched the Paul Thomas Anderson-directed music video for "Daydreaming," stop what you're doing. It’s essential.
The song itself is a six-minute descent into a dream state. The piano loop stays mostly the same, but the layers around it grow increasingly chaotic. It’s a sonic representation of losing one’s grip on reality. By the time the cellos start growling at the four-minute mark, the beauty has turned into something much more ominous.
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People often debate whether this was Radiohead’s "final" statement. While we know now they’ve branched off into The Smile and various solo projects, A Moon Shaped Pool feels like a closing chapter. It’s the sound of a band that has nothing left to prove. They aren't trying to "reinvent" rock music anymore like they did with OK Computer. They are just making music that feels right for their age.
The Acoustic vs. The Electronic
There is a weird tension in the production. On one hand, you have "Desert Island Disk," which is basically a Nick Drake song. It’s airy, acoustic, and grounded. On the other, you have "Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief," which is a dense, electronic swamp.
Radiohead manages to bridge these two worlds through Jonny Greenwood’s arrangements. He’s essentially become a contemporary classical composer who happens to play lead guitar in a rock band. His work with the London Contemporary Orchestra is what gives A Moon Shaped Pool its "moon-shaped" curves. It’s not angular. It’s soft around the edges, even when the subject matter is biting.
Critics like Pitchfork and The Guardian rightfully praised the album for its "uncluttered" feel. It’s a bit of a paradox, considering how many layers of sound are actually in there. But that’s the trick. They know when to pull back. On "Glass Eyes," it’s just Thom and the strings. It’s a short, fleeting moment—less than three minutes—but it’s one of the most evocative tracks they’ve ever put to tape. It captures that specific feeling of getting off a train in a place where you don't belong and feeling completely overwhelmed by the world.
The Myth of the "Polished" Sound
Some fans were put off by how "pretty" the album sounds. If you came for the distorted guitars of The Bends, you were probably disappointed. But Radiohead hasn't been that band for a long time.
The "prettiness" is a mask. Underneath the lush strings of "The Numbers" is a pretty grim warning about climate change. The lyrics aren't subtle: "The system is a lie." It’s a protest song disguised as a 70s folk-rock jam. It’s very much in the vein of Serge Gainsbourg’s Histoire de Melody Nelson, which Nigel Godrich has cited as an influence before. The dry drums and the prominent bass are a dead giveaway.
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How to Truly Experience A Moon Shaped Pool
You can't listen to this as background music. You just can't. It’s an "all-in" experience.
If you really want to get what the band was going for, you need to listen on a decent pair of headphones. The panning on "Identikit" alone is worth the price of admission. The way the backing vocals ("broken hearts make it rain") bounce between your ears is a deliberate choice to disorient the listener.
Also, ignore the "alphabetical" gimmick for a second and just listen to the transitions. The way "Decks Dark" bleeds into "Desert Island Disk" is some of the smoothest sequencing in modern music history. It’s intentional. It’s a journey through a very specific emotional landscape.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
To get the most out of A Moon Shaped Pool, follow these steps:
- Listen to the "From the Basement" sessions: While they didn't do a full Basement set for this album like they did for The King of Limbs, there are several live performances from this era that show how these complex arrangements work without the studio magic.
- Track the history: Go back and find the 2006 live version of "Present Tense" or the early "Burn the Witch" teases. Seeing how these songs evolved over a decade gives you a much deeper appreciation for the final versions.
- Check out the influences: Listen to Alice Coltrane’s Journey in Satchidananda or the works of Krzysztof Penderecki. You’ll start to hear exactly where Jonny Greenwood got his inspiration for the string textures.
- Focus on the low end: Don't just follow the melody. Follow Colin Greenwood’s bass. He is the unsung hero of this record, providing the only solid ground in an album that otherwise feels like it’s floating away.
Whether it’s their best work is subjective. Some will always prefer the revolution of Kid A. But for my money, A Moon Shaped Pool is their most beautiful. It’s a record that rewards patience. It’s a record that grows with you. And in a world that feels increasingly frantic, there’s something deeply comforting about a band that isn't afraid to slow down and just... be.