In the press junket for 2000's epochal Kid A, the members of Radiohead participated in a photo shoot with post-processing that intentionally overcorrected all of their perceived flaws: Jonny Greenwood received a blond coif, blue eyes and longer fingers(?); Ed O'Brien got proper facial hair and a presidential smile; Philip Selway lost the bags under his eyes and his London pallor. Frontman Thom Yorke was transformed into a picture of symmetry, spotless and heroic, with a healthy glow, Hollywood cheekbones and twin mirror-image eyes. The entire enterprise gave off a sickly jolt, but Yorke's portrait in particular was truly terrifying, a hollowed-out Stepfordization of his famously craggy face that said as much in one picture about his infected social anxiety and sarcastically inflected utopian vision — everything in its right place; everyone fitter, happier, more productive — as a thousand of his paranoid-android words. Most of the group's albums resemble one side of that shoot or the other: The Bends and In Rainbows are perfectly arranged head-turners, while Amnesiac and The King of Limbs derive their beauty from a singular, uncomfortable weirdness. Last year's placidly roiling A Moon Shaped Pool (XL) exists on both sides, as if one version of Yorke is peering into a mirror and singing to the other ("Have you had enough of me?"). It's an uncanny valley only he could cross. Tickets $59.50-$79.50 (plus fees).