I was apprehensive about the release of a new Portishead album a full 10 years since their live album and 11 since their last studio release. In the intervening time it became pretty clear to me that trip-hop as a genre really doesn't age well. I tried listening to Dummy a few months before the release of Third and found that it was horribly dated by this point, and while the band moved on from that particular style quite quickly on their self-titled album it still didn't quite set the stage for the new one as well as I'd thought. If they came back like it was still the 90s and their blend of haunting, soulful vocals and claustrophobic hip hop-lite beats was still relevant the album could wind up being little more than a joke, and I didn't want to see that happen to them. On the other hand, their self titled album got better as it aged so there was the potential that they'd move even further in that direction and make an album that felt like part of a logical progression for the band. Even then it was a risky proposition; what would have sounded amazing in 2000 or 2002 (when the initial release date for the third Portishead album was listed for the longest time) might not necessarily work in the context of modern music, or at least not as well as it could have with a bit more timeliness.
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And now we get to the part of the show where I go gaga over Beth Gibbons' voice. Honestly, as much as I hate the cliche, she could be singing the goddamn phone book in Chinese and I'd still be staring at the stereo like it was Christina Hendricks. Her voice is a treasure in any form, and any album that takes advantage of it is worth your time. It's a bit of a shame that she never gets to break out that rich, throaty growl that defined the best moments of the first two albums, but really there's no moments here that feel like they need that sort of a performance. The haunted croon that permeates Third is gorgeous as ever though; every single song gives her an opportunity to send chills down my spine no matter the context. The plaintive 'will I follow?' on "The Rip"? Chills. The chorus of "We Carry On"? Chills even if you don't consider Utley's scrapey guitar tone. The end of "Threads" where multi-tracksed Gibbonses get into a round and give a passable though probably unintentional Dagmar Krause impression? Huge. Fucking. Chills. I'm biased as hell since Gibbons might be my favorite vocalist of all time from a pure technical standpoint, but I don't think any other Portishead album showcases her voice quite this well.
Coming up tomorrow: Two sides of the New York scene at the decade's end, and the biggest surprise of an album from 2009.
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