I stopped attending live performances three months ago. “Why should this be, Brian that is called Brian?” I hear you ask. Well, I retort: “They aren’t half noisy.”

What people love about watching their favourite rock acts in concert is the ear-bleeding racket that comes screeching from the amplifiers; all set to eleven or beyond; and the endless throb of the bass and drums as their scraggly idols yelp into the microphone. “What’s wrong with one man and his guitar?” I ask. “That is boring Brian, and you are a prude at the age of 21 when you should be setting the world on fire,” I hear some of you respond. “Au contraire,” I retort with a wink, “the world is self-immolating.”

Why do you look so perplexed?

I Might Be Wrong – Live Recordings is the nosiest live album I have heard but since one can relish its delights from the comfort of home, this pleases me greatly. It contains a mere eight offerings from the 2001 period of Oxford octopi Radiohead, and provides an easier manner in which to tackle the difficult material from the Amnesiac/ Kid A records.

The CD (how old-fashioned) comes packaged in a laminated cardboard sleeve with artwork from regular contributor Stanley & Tchock and melds songs from live performances in Oxford, Berlin, Oslo and Vaison La Romaine (um… France). It is unclear where each particular song comes from, not that it matters a great deal, but it is evident that these tunes are easier to enjoy in a more effective live rock setting (free from the squished production subterfuge of the studio recordings). That makes this a crucial purchase for those who “didn’t get” either of Radiohead’s most audacious pair of albums.

Our record begins with the earth-shaking assault of The National Anthem from Kid A. The lead hook is more ominous and sluggish in the original but here it is blasted out on electric guitar and bass; accompanied by a swirling canvas of freakish background noises spookier than dinner with Alexander Nevski. Thom Yorke is electrified throughout this tumultuous opener, panting and thrashing himself to sheer exhaustion, and drawling his stuttered vocals out to moments of spine-chilling epileptic ejaculation. In particular, the bridge around the third minute is incredibly effective, where Yorke makes it sound as though a tsunami is approaching the stage with his extended moan of death. A thunderous start. Who needs trumpets, anyway?

The songs are stitched together to give the impression of one live set. Clever ruse, lads, but there is little audience interaction to be found so the wool has not been pulled. With a nervous tambourine shiver, the distinctive head-banging hook of I Might Be Wrong from Amnesiac strikes up from Jonny Greenwood and the track is performed at a rip-roaring speed. It loses little of its resigned melancholy in this live setting, and instead gains a desperate kind of mania as it bounces in and out of its heartbreaking key changes and drawled lament for trampled memories. The gentle, hopeless bridge of the original is brought to the fore louder, and the same emotional climax is to be found somewhere amid the meteor shower of feedback dripped over the lead guitar. Yorke relishes in delivering the final wail from the original too, ending on the command: “I think we should stop…”

Morning Bell gets rapturous applause, which is a surprise given it was never thee finest of tracks to begin with. Controversial? Nah. This live version makes the drabber original more interesting. With its lead “synth-organ” sound and repetitive drumbeat from Phil Selway, Yorke stutters through the opening verse with a level of hitherto unseen restraint. The guitar treatments are interesting for those who know about that sort of thing (wik-wak touches and wah-wah noises and so on and so forth). What is strange here, however, are the overdubbed background vocals from Yorke during his splenetic mumble-rant, suggesting these tunes were touched up in the studio. Methinks mutiny is afoot here. Plus, I still can’t make out whether he sings: “Cut the kids in half… cut the kids in half.”

Never a dull moment on this album. Like Spinning Plates is the revelation here. The version on Amnesiac was a distressing backward tape loop fed through a cheese grater. This version is a beautiful piano lament with gentle bass accompaniment from Colin Greenwood and aching synth effects disguised as world-class string arrangements. Yorke is at his most powerful on the record, delivering a series of jaw-dropping verses in full-on “tortured angel” mode as he croons: “This just feels like spinning plates, I’m living in cloud-cuckoo-land… this just feels like spinning plates, our bodies floating down a muddy river.”

This breathtaking piece reveals perhaps the fatal error behind both Kid A and Amnesiac. This is that their music needs no 22nd century Pentium IV wizardry to make it sound astonishing. These tunes, even at their most minimal, wipe the floor with most other bands. Yorke proves it with this desolate classic – perhaps the finest moment Radiohead have ever set to disc.

Less intimate is the futuro-disco of Idioteque. This angular nugget is propelled largely by a drum machine and disjointed plonks; dragged kicking and squirming through its awkward time signature with Yorke’s apocalyptic bombast. Towards the middle, the sound of the crowd in sheer overawed rapture almost engulfs the music (Yorke must have given birth to that alien child he had been gestating for months). I think he called it Chester. Well, it’s better than Noah…

Everything In Its Right Place from Kid A is the seven-minute centrepiece of the record. After a cordial introduction, it glides (in its own time) into its ghoulish melody and almost manages to get away with the incongruous lyric “yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon.” Almost, but not quite. There are further overdubs throughout the repetitive drone of the keyboard and the final half is awash with ominous sounds and warped vocal loops, making this sound more or less like the studio version. Quite how all this happens live is unknown to me (especially the appearance of those Linda Blair vocals towards the funereal climax).

Dollars and Cents remains unchanged for the most part from Amnesiac, ending on a more aggressive note as Yorke pounds out the unpleasant refrain: “We’re gonna crack your little skulls!”

True Love Waits is a Thom Yorke solo effort, making this album impossible to ignore for the die-hard Radiohead nutcase out there (such as me). As a tune it is understated and beautiful, and its lyrics are as morbid and perverse and one has come to expect from Mr. Yorke. These more intimate moments are appreciated by audiences, and this one track manages to capture some of the special essence of the show it was taken from.

I Might Be Wrong – Live Recordings is non-essential Radiohead, but given it is the lone live album in their canon, it will be a sought after item for those who have spun the studio records to death. There are further live tracks on the Com Lag release from 2004, but this attempts to capture the staggering quintet at the peak of their crowd-dazzling powers. The songs choices are too random to provide an exceptional example of this, but at least it does show both the emotional breadth and depth of their music in a live setting, as well as the undisputed force they are in modern rock music. It goes for a fiver in most shops. That being the case – don’t let it pass you by.

In Rainbows (2007)
Com Lag (2plus2isfive) (2004)
Hail To The Thief (2003)

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Driving