Posted on 04/08/2008
Things change over a decade. Hairlines recede. Tarantino heroin chic gets nudged out by the ill fitted hipster coke binge. I've been traveling a lot lately, looking for epiphanies, tangible feelings like the first time I heard "Glory Box" and got goose bumps during some meaningless freshman sex. I've come to accept that I can't recapture or recreate. The past has no legs. But it pleases me to say that Portishead is still great and that their new album Third pulls off the rare feat of a musical act returning from hiatus without sounding contrived, watered-down, wrongfully catered or archaic. In fact, it sounds fresher than you might expect and, in the end, it's still very much Portishead.

 

"Silence" sets it off with some irony (fucking Brits) in that it's one of the album's fastest tracks with a rolling drum pattern and surf rock guitar groove. Beth doesn't enter until about 2:15 but when she does it's vintage tormented wounds afraid inside of her head and such. Home sweet home with a touch of newness as proof within one song that original essence isn't always lost with a new coat of gloss. "Hunter" is lovely, full of space and meditative moodiness, a bit more sublime than a lot of the Dummy and Portishead stuff in that it lacks those heavy bass and synth grinds. "Nylon Smile" and "The Rip" follow suit and it's easy to see the trio's maturity packed in such newfound subtlety.

Third takes a turn about halfway through when "Plastic" kicks with heavy attitude compliments of choppy drum boom-bap and edgier samples. The landscape changes a lot on this one but it's pulled off masterfully, an ambitious jam that still makes your neck snap. "We Carry On" is aptly titled as a perfect would-be soundtrack for a 6 a.m. drive, nefarious or not, it's got this spy-hunter vibe that ensures a wide-eyed attentiveness. "Deep Water" sounds like the opening credits from Weeds. Maybe they needed a nap after that last one? "Machine Gun" is pounding post-industrial angelic at its finest, shrapnel with velvet edges, that grey area where brooding meets beauty that Portishead has always called home.

 

The album ends with "Threads" and it's probably the most reminiscent of that original sound. If Third had you guessing until now, this will be the joint to reinvigorate those late night walks where you thought about spooky things like tarantulas, clowns or the time you caught your step-dad posing in your mother's wedding gown wearing mascara. It feels generally uneasy. As Beth says repeatedly, "I'm so unsure." But when listening to Portishead, isn't that sort of the point? Now go have some freshman sex.

 

- Jeff Artist