Music Review: Portishead - Third
Probably the most depressing break-up in the 90s occurred when Portishead fell off the face of the earth. In their prime they were robbed from us. Beth Gibbons went off to work in the garden, Geoff Barrow reallocated his production talents, and Adrian Utley wept softly into his beer in the dark corner of a pub.
Then, as if a divine musical presence summoned them from their inactive decade, they return to us with Third. Lazily named, but meticulously scripted, this album is the materialization of thousands of hushed rumors spread since Gibbons appeared to sing "Wandering Star" with her band mates at a small club in Bristol back in February 2007.
They didn't have anything to prove, but Portishead delivers a bone-chilling paramount to their existing catalog.
Driven by the necessity to make "interesting music," as Barrow and Utley have suggested, Portishead have put together a set both stark and monumental. About as logical a progression from their second album as illogically imaginable, Third owes practically nothing to its predecessor stylistically.
First song "Silence" will set mouths agape for the 50 minute duration of the record. Entrancing jungle rhythms and Gibbons' trademark frail voice, teetering naturally from discord to melody. The rest of the first half - including the smoky, jazzy, almost Dummy-like structure of "Hunter" with its billowing, jaunted guitar swells and "Plastic" with a start-stop drum concoction - creates an incredibly uneven landscape for the three to carve new artistic paths.
Second half highlight "Machine Gun" with pulsating, hand-played techno pads is powerful enough to mow down anything in its path. Directly following is "Small", which taps into the psychedelic styling of The Doors when Jim Morrison and Co. were in their deepest drug-induced fantasies.
Making it three perfect songs in a row is my personal favorite, "Magic Doors". A flawless groove of stumbling bass and sloppy cowbell propped up by solid dark piano supports and the most enduring lyrics of the record. Beth Gibbons seems caught up in the whirlwind of unexplainable splendor that Portishead create for themselves: "I don't know who I'm meant to be, I guess it's just the person that I am."
Third, in the end, is a product of Utley's guitar insanity, Barrow's stabilizing productive counter-points and Gibbons' ability to lend her entire spirit to serve as a vocal underpinning. All the elements that made Portishead such an intoxicating success those many years ago are revisited and expounded upon with an exponential strength.
Such an adventurous step for them, yet they arrived at it easily in less than a year's time. What reason did they have to pull this together? Well, it certainly wasn't to cash in like most bands who reunite. They would've pulled that routine long ago if that were the case. No, I think it was a gift - for the dreams of those who waited patiently for their favorite trio to come back stronger than ever before.
