Portishead
Third

Eleven years... it seems like an eternity, but it's the time it took Portishead to record the sequel to that album which bore the same name as the band and seemed like a dark apocalypse: sepulchral sounds, ancestral and penetrating rhythms, and the indispensable voice of Beth Gibbons, always deep and sometimes with a jazzy edge.

The third, highly anticipated, work follows that scheme, perfecting it: the initial "Silence" is enough to describe the album: a piece of absolute beauty, anguished with a flickering electronic finale that cracks on a almost jazz rhythm, Beth sighs and inflames. It is followed by "Hunter", even more surprising, an emotional and moving ballad. "Nylon Smile": another masterpiece, spectral, Gibbons whispers angelic/demonic "ooooh....oooooh" and disturbs while captivating, then "The Rip", a digital nightmare with the finale of a mournful electric synth that is a real stroke of genius, leading into "Plastic", the "Roads" of the new millennium, a song simple and complex at the same time, characterized by a broken rhythm of the most classic trip hop, with also peaks of electric guitar. Fascinating. And what about "We Carry On"? A sensational electric march unsettling with Beth who destroys the heart. "Deep Water", a brief shard of prewar folk from the '40s with Gibbons juggling a splendid performance on acoustic guitar, while haunting voices echo repeating some parts of the text.

"Machine Gun", supported by heavy beats reminiscent of "Hunter" by Bjork, is a new example of creativity and originality with an electronic lament finale that always refers back to another piece by the Icelandic artist ("Verandi"). Then "Small", the peak of the album: acoustic intro with Beth sending shivers down the spine, while an ancestral organ and skeletal rhythm come into play, making way for a crazy guitar. "Magic Doors", a lesser episode of the album, which sounds like a b-side of "Dummy", introduced by a beep, then devolved into a base of the most classic trip hop from the '90s. Not a bad piece, but pure self-citation. It closes with a poignant piece, destined to become one of the best tracks by the Bristol group: "Threads", a drum machine that beats and a spectacular finale in which the singer shouts a phrase, which seems to be "I'm always so sure".

Perhaps the best album by Portishead, certainly already cataloged as one of the best of 2008... eleven years have passed, but it was worth it.