Portishead is supposed to be a creatively free and absolutely enchanting downbeat trip-hop sort of band. Based on this widely accepted rumor, their albums have sold many a copy. Unfortunately, I fell for the hype. Portishead is little better than annoying and their 1997 self-titled sophomore disc grinds on my nerves more than the vast majority of my collection.
Hailing from Bristol, England, Portishead formed in 1991 and has since the beginning consisted of Beth Gibbons (vocals), Geoff Barrow (drums, programming), and Adrian Utley (guitar, bass, organ, production). The band, named after Barrow’s childhood hometown, soon released a short noir film and quickly signed with Go! Records. When they released Dummy onto unsuspecting audiences in 1994, the album was widely hailed as a tour de force. Gloomy and atmospheric, claustrophobic and ethereal, Dummy proved that Portishead was rather unlike other similar acts of the day (like the more dance oriented masters Massive Attack).
When Portishead resurfaced in 1997 with their eponymous sophomore effort, listeners once again took notice of the music. Sonically similar although much bleaker than the debut, Portishead was a critical success. And it is for this widespread praise that certain unsuspecting music reviewers spent their hard earned money on the album.
One would think that a fan of trip-hop would get some joy out of a “classic” album from the genre. I do not. Beth Gibbons’ vocals are dry, shrill, and irritating. On some level, this is effect is the likely goal. It just goes on for too long and with too much pseudo-intensity for me to stomach. The purposefully dimly lit aural atmosphere is fine enough, but after listening to eleven songs and over fifty minutes of the same thing the album seems trite and formulaic and not remotely close to the usually assumed brilliance.
Of the eleven tracks, a few are usually pulled out as favorites. Songs like Cowboys, Only You, All Mine and Western Eyes are often cited by fans and almost-fans alike. It’s understandable for listeners to appreciate Portishead for the emotion and the bizarrely produced songs. However, this strangeness and passion is also a detriment. The noise, the screeching, the prescribed formula, and the heavy-handed arrangement are inexcusable and painful.
Despite all of these problems with Portishead as an album, one song does stand out and probably best highlights what the trio could be if they dropped the façade. That song, Only You unfortunately doesn’t appear until toward the end of the album. Barrow’s hip-hop style of sampling and scratching is impressive, but the overall feel lounge-act feel is more easily digestible. Gibbons’ voice is also more palatable…she holds back from yowling and in doing so helps to make the song the most worthwhile offering on the album. Another wonderful aspect of this song are the slowly sung lyrics:
Now that we've chosen to take all we can
This shade of autumn, a stale bitter end
Years of frustration lay down side by side
There are a few other momentarily bright moments. All Mine is a good song save for Gibbons forced, almost jazzy vocals. I love the downbeats and the spy-thriller feel despite the overly tinny production. Western Eyes is also somewhat appealing. The keyboards, whirling melody, and dark overtones help the track to pop, but the fact remains that when Gibbons breaks in with her high-pitched, speech-impediment laden, bad-Bjork imitation I can’t help but cringe. The music is good, the vocals are not. Other somewhat interesting (for music ONLY) tracks are Humming and Elysium.
The most unfortunate thing about Portishead is the introductory track. Cowboys is the absolute most painful track on the album. The production is supposed to do something…to make it sound like vinyl. But the melody is annoying and Gibbons wields the single most annoying voice ever heard in trip-hop and possibly the worst of my entire music collection (yes, even worse than the jarring Cerys Matthews of Catatonia). To make matters worse, it echoes ever so slightly further intensifying my loathe for the song. Fortunately for Portishead, they possess some songwriting and production talent.
Another rather infuriating selection is Half Day Closed. Thick and haunting, it’s possible on one very temporary level to enjoy the track. But for some inexplicable reason, when the song breaks into words it’s impossible to decipher Gibbons. She’s so fuzzed out and enhanced that it actually hinders the track as a whole. And even worse is the fact that Half Day Closed seems to have no real point aside from annoying the listener. It’s easy to imagine Portishead discussing how they can make the song more artsy and purposefully adding distortion and thus alienating people who really enjoy listening to music and not having to plug their ears.
Seven Months also ranks among the album’s worst. The production once again gets in the way of the song. The actual melody is okay, but Barrow’s snares are wickedly discordant. And then there’s the whole issue of Gibbons (again). High-pitched, pained, ugly vocals do nothing to help this song much less this album.
The critics were wrong. Portishead, based on this album alone (I refuse to buy the apparently more lucid and less dark album Dummy), is over-hyped crap. Gibbons can sing, but when her voice is “enhanced” with machinery to a shrill yowl it ruins any semblance of order and beauty. Save for the few tracks mentioned in a positive light above (most importantly, Only You) it’s highly suggested that future fans of downbeat/trip-hop look elsewhere…consider Massive Attack, Tricky, Bjork, Morcheeba, or anybody else…
Rating: 2/5 stars
Track Listing:
01. Cowboys
02. All Mine
03. Undenied
04. Half Day Closed
05. Over
06. Humming
07. Mourning Air
08. Seven Months
09. Only You
10. Elysium
11. Western Eyes
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Portishead has since 1997 released one albums. 1998’s Roseland New York City/PNYC (a live disc) was awarded little attention. An album of new material is also expected in the not to distant future.
I for one will not be in any sort of line to pick it up…
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