OK Computer was the album that sanctified their futuristic pop.

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OK Computer was the album that sanctified their futuristic pop. For about six songs, this is a masterpiece of faux avantgarde (of pretending to be avantgarde while playing mellow pop music). The rest is filler.
Airbag is the manifesto of Radiohead's vanity: a psalm warbled in middle-eastern fashion while the guitar strums a raga, a cello fills the harmony with menacing drones, and the drums beat mechanic and synchopated. This tedious litany sets the theme for the rest of the album: Radiohead bridges the Beatles' Sgt Pepper (more precisely The Benefit Of Mr Kite) and latter-day Pink Floyd, chic pop and languid, transcendental living-room psychedelia.
However, the singer's phrasing and the arrangements of Subterranean Homesick Alien hark back to soft-jazz and pop-soul of the 1970s, while the guitar paints Pink Floyd-ian landscapes. The closing The Tourist is the extreme, rarefied version of this technique.
Alas, this languid, over-blown manner leads to the same excesses that characterize the late Pink Floyd (lush textures, slow-motion melodies, drowsy chanting). Furthermore, Radiohead inject massive doses of magniloquent epos from U2 and of facile pathos from David Bowie. Lucky, an almost orchestral and choral, triumphal and apocalyptic dirge, is probably the best and worst example of such excesses. The gloomy requiem Exit Music, enhanced with choir of dead men, organ lines and noises, and the mournful hymn and renaissance musicbox of No Surprises, have their moments, but are hardly revolutionary.