wasted presents you i might be wrong live recordings

I might be wrong
I might be wrong
I could have sworn
I saw a light coming home

I used to think
I used to think
There is no future left at all
I used to think

Open up, begin again
Let's go down the waterfall
Think about the good times and
Never look back
Never look back

What would I do?
What would I do?
If I did not have you?

Open up and let me in
Let's go down the waterfall
Have ourselves a good time
It's nothing at all
Nothing at all
Nothing at all

"THE NATIONAL REVIEW" by rolling stone US magazine
Before he sings a word of "The National Anthem," the opening track on the surprisingly raw I Might Be Wrong, Radiohead's Thom Yorke makes his presence felt with some human-beatbox-style mouth percussion. Like a boxer delivering jab after jab, he sprays a series of ohh-ahh syllables over the calm-seashore pulse. The syncopation is practically under the surface, but it still kicks the introduction into high gear and offers a clue about why Radiohead are so compelling live: Rather than chase the textured grandiosity of recent studio recordings Kid A and Amnesiac, the resourceful Oxford five-piece grabs whatever's around — anything that might help translate the occluded texts of those psychodramas, or take them, scraping and clawing, toward some hint of enlightenment. If they recent studio work has been distinguished by additive, layer-by-layer composition, in concert Radiohead's magic comes from subtraction: The elegy "Like Spinning Plates" relies almost entirely on Yorke's famously anguished voice. The music evaporates in the second verse of "Idioteque," leaving Yorke to wrestle his demons with just the drums for support. You get the feeling he likes controlling the temperature: Even when the band is roaring, the peaks are still somehow shaped by Yorke's sense of beautiful understatement.