Portishead - Third

In the time since Portishead released their last album, over nine hundred million people have been born.  Wars have been fought (some with more purpose than others), lives have ended, a new millennium dawned, and a myriad of flavors for soft drinks and corn chips have been created and forgotten.  A few things stand such a test of time over a period of 11 years.  New York subway cars still smell like that.  The Moon is still hanging out up there.  Portishead still mystifies.  I shall go into detail on the latter.

Third is the British trip-hop band’s first new record since 1997.  It starts with a track called Silence, which after a short introduction storms right into everything that Portishead is.  The band’s vocalist Beth Gibbons along with producers and instrumentalists Geoff Barrow and Adrian Utley knock out track after track of intoxicating beats, raging fluctuations, and a vocal track that can most immediately be described as angelic.
 
To elaborate briefly on Beth Gibbons’ vocal ability, let me say this.  I am of the firm belief that music is one of the few true forms of communication.  In that sense, I believe that language is not used to its full capacity unless it’s being used as part of music, or music itself.  Beth Gibbons has the ability to convey deeper emotions and harder feelings than anything I’ve experienced.  Ever.

The album continues after Silence to create an atmosphere that’s unique and exciting.  It takes you away from wherever you are, and puts you right where you need to be.  By the time you stumble across track eight, entitled Machine Gun, the world has gone away and left is just you and the sound.  A pure masterpiece, Machine Gun is one that you can hear in your sleep.  The album then moves into the also impressive Small, and winds down from there ending with a track called Threads.

There are only three more things I can say about this album. 

1.  It took me from my life and put me in a place I wish I could never leave.  It’s one of a small rotating list of albums that I can’t listen to while driving, in fear that I’ll find myself under a cement truck wondering what happened while I was off in the blissful heaven that it’s created for me.

2.  It conveyed to me a sense of light and a sense of despair.  The angles it attacks from are many, and the assault is one of pure pleasure.

3.  Listen to it.  In any way you can, get it in your head.  Buy it, borrow it, find me, I’ll lend it to you.  Just, please, make it part of your history.