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March 07, 2008
Portishead's Third: A Track by Track Preview
As pleased as we were to hear that Bristol, UK heroes Portishead were lumbering out of their pain cave to finally release a new record, cursed cynicism still tempered our excitement. I mean, if they had anything left to say then why such a long absence? It seemed silly to think that really could have been spending a decade crafting 11 songs. But then the heavens split to offer this record to us, and fuck if that scenario doesn't seem slightly plausible. There were probably more than a few coffee breaks, but still.
Third is a confident and exciting record that'll easily rate among the best of the year. It can't not sound like Portishead with Beth Gibbons spectral presence flickering in front of every song, but it presents a much more versatile group than the one who pulled a disappearing act on us in our young and vulnerable states. This album is only now trickling out to the shadowy corners of the pirate web. We can't betray our secret source by posting tracks that could easily be traced back. But we've all been rolling it around on our palettes for a couple weeks and we're prepared to let you know what you're in for once looser lips inevitably sink the secret ship.
Third, one-by-one:
1)"Silence"
Third albums are always tricky, and so are comebacks. You need an instant grabber. “Silence,” track 1 on Portishead’s Third, is that grabber. As the galloping beat gradually comes to include shards of glacial jagged guitar and sustained minor-key strings, we are already in gleeful darkness before it lurches to a halt and in comes that voice. From an outfit that trades so heavily in slo-mo cinema, this is something new: an action sequence, and it’s quite a pleasant slap in the face. The lyrics, on the other hand, are indeed your grandmother’s Portishead: naked expressions of longing, vulnerability and isolation, somehow made alluring by virtue of Beth Gibbons’ singular instrument. -D. Klein
2)"Hunter"
"Hunter" sounds like the theme song to the next Bond flick, Fuck to Kill (working title: Kill to Fuck) that Portishead was never asked to write. Not that I'm treading on new ground by aligning this band with spy movies; they've done as much themselves. "Hunter" travels continuously upwards like the scrolling of credits or smoke climbing from a clove cigarette. Maybe F2K will be filmed partially in India, like Octopussy was. In a very un-Bondsian turn, the quick drum roll (3:19) leading into the drowsy Television-esque finish is a total blue balling tactic. - R. Monty
3)"Nylon Smile"
I knew a girl in college who was animate in telling me that her favorite band was Morcheeba. I didn't know how to respond to that bit of information. It was like someone telling me there favorite basketball player is Derek Harper. I mean, I'm glad you have a favorite and all, but that particular choice doesn't really facilitate any further conversation. Jeff had an immediate response, however: "Why not just go straight to the source material and listen to some Portishead?" Well, on "Nylon Smile", Portishead seem to be the ones reveling in their own influences. To my western ears, the instrumentals en masse come across with a north African vibe (somewhat reminiscent of Damon Albarn's forays into Moroccan music). But the real star of the track is Beth Gibbon's voice, which has never sound more weathered. - R.M.
4)"The Rip"
“The Rip” is a spare song at first: spindly acoustic guitar, a chalk smear of theremin, and a subdued, mournful vocal by Beth Gibbons. But midway, the rhythm kicks in, along with a pulsing analog synthesizer, and “The Rip” spreads its wings and flies, perfectly embodying a song about transcendence. - D.K.
5)"Plastic"
A lounge-like track distorted somewhat by a helicopter- like sound effect. Like most tracks on Third, it would seem out of place on either of Portishead's first two albums, but is more of a heir to Portishead than Dummy. - K. O'Brien
6)"We Carry On"
As dark as this track starts, it's tempting to recast its title as "We, Carrion." Again, it's jarring how little this conforms to our old idea of Portishead. When David slipped this into his DJ set at last weekend's Neon Lights show, no one in the room even really knew to lose their shit. Until we mentioned to select folks that it was Portishead, and said shit was promptly lost. Geoff Barrow was always obsessed with beats, but molasses slow ones. This is steady krautrock clockwork, with Beth's soft pleas threatening to become completely overwhelmed and unhinged by the clatter around her. This is before the cascades of sinister post-punk guitar start to persecute her further. To my ears, the record's masterpiece. - J. Klingman
7)"Deep Water"
Who would have thought we’d find Beth Gibbons, a ukelele, and 4 part harmonies in-between the pulsating “We Carry On” and a song titled “Machine Gun?” “Deep Water” is certainly the eye of the storm track. It’s unique, well placed, short, and sweet. This is the long awaited song for the Portishead fan working at a tiki bar in Hawaii. -Y. Korngold
8)"Machine Gun"
The record's first single is it's most brutal track. Almost industrial drum patterns and spastic synth shocks practically besiege the soaring and angelic vocal. Hearing it I picture a small woman, holding a candle that remains improbably lit despite a punishing thunderstorm that continues to grow in intensity until its contempt for her persistence snuffs them both out for good. At that point an oddly funereal synth line mourns with us. - J.K.
9)"Small"
A lamenting story, “Small” starts off with a haunting, candlelit kind of melody my Great-Grandfather would have used to tell his children about being chased out of Russia by the Cossacks. Halfway through the song though Great-Grandpa gets the urge to dance (or at least bounce from side to side) and kicks in some rhythm and a brooding organ to help tell his tale of heartbreak in hard times. -Y.K.
10)"Magic Doors"
In a sane world, this would make a strong appeal for radio play. A cowbell intro blends into a languid, muted synth that allows Gibbons' voice the spotlight. At the break, the piano kicks in - as Gibbons warbles about losing her self (or herself). It's the simple song that the Coldplays of the world have failed to make for years and years and years. - K.O.
11)"Threads"
"I'm always so unsure," goes Beth's mantra in this slow burning closer. Given the decade long absence from recording, it seems deeply felt. Maybe someday we'll hear dozens of versions of what Third could have sounded like; babysteps towards opening their sound towards so many new textures without betraying the band's noir essence. By containing the album's most harrowed vocal performance,"Threads" implies a life coming undone. It's sonic precision presents a band who finally got it together. - J.K.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at March 7, 2008 05:06 PM
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