Menacing trip hop classic: often imitated, never bettered
Written: Sep 21 '03 (Updated Sep 22 '03)
Product Rating:
Pros: Sublime production & vocals; divinely sad; surprisingly accessible.
Cons: Perhaps too left-of-the-middle for some; lack of variety in sound; not happy music.
The Bottom Line: Entrancing and achingly beautiful, these soothing yet urgent lullabies should be heard by anyone who has ever felt hurt, afraid, lost or alone.
Delicate but dark, "Dummy" is rightly considered to be one of THE essential albums of the 1990s. Named after their small hometown in southern England, Portishead consisted of onetime Neneh Cherry producer Geoff Barrow and, of course, singer Beth Gibbons. It is the latter's vocals, which can only be described as the sound a heart makes when it breaks, that elevated the band from other offputtingly pretentious trip-hop outfits and made this album a bonafide classic. Think Dido meets Sade meets Billie Holiday and you're only half way to imagining the potency of Gibbon's anguished wails. All the familiar trip-hop buzzwords; "eerie"; "haunting"; "elegant"; can be invoked, but not one can do The Voice justice. She sings like a violin would if it could.
We are first introduced to this voice on "Mysterons" (5/5), appropriately named as it sounds like a midnight breeze on a distant planet. Barrow's expert production instantly makes one think of dark, empty spaces. For such a depressing song, it's oddly sensuous. The faintly intimidating sound effects and beat compliment Gibbon's contained but nuanced vocals perfectly. The concise lyrics convey depression with breathtaking poignancy:
"Refuse to surrender
Strung out until ripped apart
Who dares, dares to condemn
All for nothing"
"Sour Times" (4.5/5) is the oddest, most unlikely hit song I've ever heard. And yet a hit it was, in 1995. The background music contains an effect that sounds like a can being dragged down an alley. There's also a faintly James Bondian feel about the music. Gibbons sings the most iconic (if lyrics can be iconic) and famous Portishead lyric:
"Cause nobody loves me, it's true...not like you do"
The impact of this equisite song is somewhat diminished by familiarity: it's been used in several advertising campaigns. Deliciously suicidal.
"Strangers" (5/5) features the most irresistable beat on the album. It would be almost danceable if Gibbon's menacing banshee didn't make you think about all the times in your life when you've felt truly alone.
"It Could Be Sweet" (2.5/5) is a step away from the surrounding tracks- much less dark due to more "traditional" chill-out production, Gibbons voice is flawless as ever, and the song is relaxing, but dull.
"Wandering Star" (5/5) pulses with a throbbing beat similar -but not as strong as- the one on track 3, complimented by scratchy hip hop turntable sounds and a very catchy chorus. The haunted house style sample at the end could even be Portishead being tongue in cheek.
"Numb" (5/5) is immediately familiar due to it, like several other songs on this album, being used on an advert. Gibbons voice sounds somehow different on this- sweeter, less marinated in woe. One of the funkiest (excuse the word :$), least sad songs on the album, despite the lyrics.
Conversely, "Roads" (5/5) might well be the saddest song on the album. Twinkly and muffled, it's music you can imagine being played in the head of someone about to kill themselves. Gibbons sounds like she's on the verge of tears. If you're listening to this in the daytime, it feels as if night is seeping in from the stereo and grasping you with eerily comforting fingers. The violins crash into a crescendo and harmonise with Gibbons until it becomes almost unbearable...in such a good way. Hugely melodramatic, truly draining.
Less melancholic is "Pedestal" (4/5), a louche, slightly jazzy song that even has a solo trumpet three quarters of the way through. This is more traditional chill out fodder, but Gibbons voice echoes around your speakers and still makes it disquieting.
And back to moody. "Biscuit" (5/5) is Gibbons at her breathiest. A crunching, bassy beat nearly oppresses her vocals, and it also features a creepy, distorted sample of a man (Johnny Ray according to the sleeve- never heard of him :S) groaning "I'll never fall in love again". It sounds like a ghost talking on those 'spirit tapes' you are supposed to be able to make if you leave a tape recorder recording by your bedside overnight.
"Glory Box" (4/5) is another track that will be familiar due to adverts. It features some of the best lyrics on the album:
"I'm so tired, of playing, playing with this bow and arrow. Gonna give my heart away, leave it to the other girls to play. For I've been a temptress for too long. Give me a reason to love you. Give me a reason to be a woman."
It's also less bleak than other songs. A massive, booming beat comes in at the very end which, unfortunately, merely shows up the inadequacy of the use of guitar on this song, as opposed to the dehumanised electronics, distorted samples and hefty beats used on the rest of the album. There is also a remix of the song called "Scorn", which is MUCH better (though this is good). It can be downloaded on Kazaa, but it's only legitimate exposure to the public was it's appearance on teen witch flick "The Craft"- it played during an attempted rape scene as the protagonist fled through gothic woods. That feels appropriate for this album.
Overall, then it's an odd record: it could easily be interpreted as horribly depressing and unbearably self absorbed, and yet instead it's incredibly listenable and accessible. The hip hop beats and rich production values give it a film-noir-like ambience. It speaks of urban alienation, horrid grief and lonliness, yet at the same time makes you nod your head to the beat. It's epic sadness bathed in luxurious malevolence, and it works perfectly. It's an album to be played when you're alone in the house, to be played when you hate the world, to be played at three in the morning after a depressing night out, to be played when you're surrounded by people who are all ignoring you. Times like these are when the near intolerable potency of the record will hit you over the head, slap you round the face and make you sit up and listen. Only this is the lightest, sweetest slap you'll ever have. This isn't chillout for the faint hearted.
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