After disappearing for 10 years, Portishead is back. Yes. For real. We're not kidding.
Fourteen years ago the Bristol trip-hop trio released Dummy, one of the most seminal albums to come out of the '90s -- OK, to come out ever. Awash in cobweb-covered hip-hop beats, crackling vinyl, and, of course, sphinx-like diva Beth Gibbon's tormented vocals, Dummy was unlike anything audiophiles were gushing over those days, an intoxicating noir affair that conjured '50s detective pulp and prefigured a new wave of ambient, soundtrack-ready music that, unfortunately, was driven into the ground by the end of the decade. (Even Portishead say TV producers turned their tunes into a "fondue set.") Dirty and dark, Dummy was the sound of foreplay, foul play, deep heartache, and pure torture. It was a classic as soon as it hit shelves.
The sad news: The new album is titled Third (get it, their third LP? see similarly literal album art, above). Then again, their second album was titled Portishead. But so what? These mysterious kids can afford a little minimalism.
The good news: Third is pretty amazing. It's even headier than you'd expect, a fusion of psychedelic goth and their signature snare rolls and trippy beats. You won't be able to listen to it until April 29, but here, for your reading (sorry!) pleasure, is a description of some of the best tracks I was lucky enough to hear this week:
> "The Rip": After two spins, it's my favorite track on the record. It starts out fairly bare-bones and folky, but soon builds up to a charming electro-gallop. Gibbons is crooning woefully about horses taking her away in what is Third's most melodic piece. The right producer could remix the shit out of the song and make it a divine summer anthem.
> "We Carry One": A dark experiment in psych-industrial-punk. Think Joy Division and NIN.
> "Deep Water": The endearing, left-field gem tucked away in the middle of the madness. It's a super-short, ukulele (yes!) ballad that evokes a barbershop session by the river.
> "Machine Gun": The most aptly titled track, it's a discordant, reverberating sci-fi nightmare drenched in seismic, pulsating beats. Is a post-apocalyptic war going on here? I swear I heard menacing marches and forcefields going up.
> "Threads": On the final track Gibbons officially descends into the gothic underground -- maybe even into the fires of hell; she literally closes the album wailing like a banshee. After her pained vocals fade, you're left with what sounds like an ominous bass line for at least another minute of the song. Then the unsettling silence kicks in, and you feel like you're surfacing from some mind-bending freakshow.
I didn't think Gibbons and Co. could express more dread, detachment, and disenchantment than they already had, but they've done it on Third. Their iciness and misery seems to have thawed and morphed into something of scorching intensity, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
-- JASON LAMPHIER
This is the best news I have heard all week. I can't freaking wait!
Posted by: duane | February 29, 2008 at 04:23 PM