It must be strange to be Radiohead, the most extraordinarily, absurdly popular art-rock band on the planet. (Popular way out of proportion to the kind of music they’re interested in making, or the level of fame they seem interested in having.) It would certainly feel odd — knowing how much obsessive attention people will pay to anything you release — to put out something like their new album, The King of Limbs. This isn’t music that’s asking for a ton of attention. It almost feels like the lead-up to a “bigger” release — one of those records on which a band casually introduces fans to new ideas they’ve been working out, things they might hammer home later. The eight songs here are less like an album and more like two EPs in a set: one of spectral, understated ballads, and the other of spectral, understated takes on left-field electronic music. It’s not the sort of thing that would normally be an event.