If you are expecting the apparent ambience of their previous work, then you will be sorely disappointed. Sure there are moments of exquisite tenderness when Beth Gibbon's voice is laid bare over a sparse rhythmn but this is an album that has moments of abrasiveness and sheer in your face
despondency. Plastic is abrupt, atonal and dark. Machine Gun is an abolute assault on the senses with it's monotonous beat piledriving you into submission and Carry On's complexity and guitar riffs are hypnotically beguiling. Hunter is the antithesis of this replete with a simple acoustic guitar motif that is Portishead at their most serene.
I have played this album at least a dozen times and it really does take that long to appreciate what the band are doing and where they are heading. This is a must have classic in ten years, of that I have no doubt.
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“A cynic by experience, a romantic by inclination and now a hero by necessity.”
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