Topping off the festival like the proverbial icing on the cake is those five Oxford lads Radiohead. In what has been a weekend of fairly patchy acts, Radiohead are head and shoulders above everything else on offer and their performance is testament to that. Arriving fashionably late, Thom Yorke and co. saunter onstage with that unassuming look of disbelief that his band are worthy such fervent attention, as easily the biggest crowd of the weekend wildly applause and prepare to be entranced. Rumour has it they’ll end with ‘Creep’. Surely not?

Arguably one of the weaker (if that’s possible) OK Computer tracks, ‘Airbag’ positively shines with the looming Colin Greenwood bassline pulsating and consuming the field, before Yorke’s urgent tones adds gravity and emotion. Delving into more recent material, ‘2 + 2 =5’ is revelatory as is a vital rendition of ‘The National Anthem’ bubbling with raw power, the saxophones bellowing ominously.

The band then delve into the hallowed back catalogue of The Bends – the album title track and ‘My Iron Lung’ providing the muscle and ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ the sheer beauty – Yorke’s voice sounding impossibly celestial and retaining its flawless quality despite his gaining years. The mid-segue is dominated by three new tracks ‘Nude’, ‘All I Need’ and ‘Videotape’ – more stripped down and back-to-basics than more recent material, they hint that Radiohead’s upcoming album (whenever they decide to release it) will be a treasure. 

In the black darkness and with the grainy screen images providing a haunting backdrop, the band grow in power and intensity as the set progresses. In what can only be described as a segue of some of their greatest songs, with ‘Pyramid Song’, ‘Lucky’, ‘Just’ and a brutal ‘Idioteque’, the band play on every one of the audiences senses and prove just why they are one of the greatest bands in the world today. Topped off by a suitably spine-tingling ‘Street Spirit’, tonight is fast becoming a seminal Radiohead set.

Returning to the fray, ‘You And Whose Army’ sees Yorke plaintively address a camera on his piano, his grinning face projected huge onto the screens as the man clearly aims to mock Blair and Bush through music. It all trangesses into a swooning, heartfelt moment as Johnny Greenwood twitches and Phil Selway dispatches his drums with precision. After the chant-inducing chimes of ‘Karma Police’ and the rhythmic, spluttering ‘Everything In Its Right Place’, then the moment comes. Performed the night earlier in Chelmsford, the band once again deliver ‘Creep’ to devastating effect. It’s a transcendental moment that provides the perfect end to any festival, not just this one.