The first track of Portishead’s Third has a sonic
trajectory similar to that of the band’s career. First, a curious spoken part
breaks the silence, which is then washed over by a tapping snare and rhythmic
bass part. When the frenetic drumming and dissonant guitar strikes enter the
arrangement, “Silence” recalls the piercing manner in which
Portishead introduced Dummy to the alternative music world in 1994 ,
clarifying the artistic potential of trip-hop and sample-based music.
Beth Gibbons’ unnerving vocals triumphantly enter the first
track a bit later, alienating the listener in a pleasurable fashion, in the way
only Portishead (1997) could. And the trembling, building crescendo of
the song’s structure acts exactly as Portishead’s expanding legacy (after an
11-year recording hiatus) does among today’s musicians. But Third as a
whole, while distinctly a Portishead creation, feels like the barrage of sound
at the end of “Silence,” an album that explores new artistic
territory in a manner just as aurally thrilling as its predecessors.
One of the significant differences between Third and
the monumental Dummy proves to be Portishead’s acceptance of faster
rhythms and the darker, more grating sound they used on Portishead.
While early tracks, like “It’s a Fire,” employed a lumbering feel for
emotional impact, Third‘s brooding melancholy permeates every track and
is enhanced by contrastingly fast tempos. “We Carry On” feels
shockingly urgent with a beat considerably faster than anything Portishead has
written before. And one of the album’s most curious tracks, “Nylon
Smile,” rumbles forward to a disjointed and throbbing beat graced by
subtle and sparse guitar plucks. The unnerving impact of this musical
foundation shadows Gibbons’ already depressing lyrics as she sings, “I
don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you/ and I don’t know what I’ll do without
you.”
But despite this tendency toward intensified rhythms, Third
is at times also surprisingly organic and folksy. “The Rip”
immediately follows “Nylon Smile” with similarly downtrodden lyrics,
but the song’s poetic structure is challenging and breathtaking. The playful
and warm tone of these words as they dance among Adrian Utley’s gentle
acoustics recall Dummy‘s dreamy tones, but, without Portishead’s zeal
for sampling, the song feels starkly, yet satisfyingly, different than their
early work.
This becomes most evident in the back-to-back pairing of
jazz-ditty “Deep Water” and single “Machine Gun.”
“Deep Water” could never strike gold with today’s radio audience, but
would likely have been a hit among the medium’s[CM1]? first listeners. “Machine
Gun” is all industrial bass and barrages of distorted noise; the two songs
couldn’t be any more different. But both are successful, innovative ventures
for Portishead, bending the band’s penchant for haunting songwriting into
genres that contrast their trip-hop days of lore.
Because of this, Third cannot be absorbed or appreciated
in a single sitting. Its textures are far too complex. The keyboard melody of
“Small” would be monotonous without the barely audible flourishes of
distorted guitar, and their presence is almost impossible to separate from the
tune’s chanting vocals without headphones. The album’s lyrics are also
challenging, a mix of symbolic imagery and daring statements regarding lack of
faith and life’s most trying moments.
These elements could have proven too big a shock for
Portishead’s fans, a group already prepared to appreciate peculiar and daring
songwriting. But instead, Portishead succeeds in balancing their iconic style
with new structures and sounds. Third may be a long time coming, but it
was certainly worth the wait.
4 1/2 stars out of 5