The world was a different place the last time Portishead put out an album of new material; Tony Blair was newly-elected Prime Minister, we were still forcing out laughs watching Seinfeld, and Britney Spears was just a glimmer in Lou Perlman’s pedophilic eye. They’ve always been musical refugees, but where once there was a fair amount of xenophobia has been replaced by world-weeriness. Third is not your older brothers’ trip hop, but full fledged psychedelia and experimental folk.
More of a cousin to Beth Gibbons & Rustin’ Man’s album than Dummy or Portishead, simple acoustic guitar mingles with theramin and electronic flourishes. It’s beautiful and difficult at the same time, the ex we don’t really care to forget. Also, like many of my exes, (lyrically) Beth Gibbons is still playing the victim all hallem foe and dandelion blow. God I love her.
The album is light on pop singles. There is no Sour Times or Only You, however moments like The Rip linger. Rating: B
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