Portishead's third album is initially more a record to admire than to love, its muscular synthesisers, drum breaks and abrupt endings keeping the tension high. But after several listens, Third's majesty unfurls.
Barrow and Utley provide deep spaces for Gibbons' raw emotions to sink into, and nearly every track provides some little sonic goodie midway through as a reward for continued attention after all these years. For once, it's worth the effort.
Third is a complete work of art to fully immerse yourself in, listened to start to finish. It will be a little awkward initially ... After a while, it will become a part of you. History will eventually see it rank on par with the rest of their legendary works.
Experimental rock is often derided as being cerebral -- and this is surely enjoyable on that level, for as many times as Third can be heard it offers no answers, only questions, questions that grow more fascinating each time they're asked -- but what sets Portishead apart is that they make thrillingly human music.
The decidedly more guitar-driven Third is their most experimental album to date.
The painful longing in her voice emerges from the silent spaces of “Plastic,” and the downright beauty of “The Rip,” an acoustic gem that explodes with an airy beat, reaffirms this band’s uncompromising devotion to the craft that brought them together.
Third concludes with a string of stunners that feature sawing cello, improvisatory bursts of horns, and the most cathartic vocal performance Gibbons has ever set to tape, respectively.
As you can probably tell, it’s not the easiest listen and Third takes more than a cursory number of plays before it weaves its magic and works its way into your skull.
Darker and bleaker lyrically than their previous work, Third is a sort of re-debut-- the band's sound after it has excised every possible remnant of trip-hop from it.
Behind these minor tones and detached themes, Third emits a knowing and quiet confidence that communicates the band’s strongly held ideas, especially that of existential ennui.
Third is indeed a less immediately accessible effort than Portishead’s more groove-oriented earlier work, but it’s no less gorgeous.
Third works in every way most third albums never can attempt, by retaining the old, embracing the new, and remarking on the present. There’s still some dust here, but it tastes sweet.
Third shows Portishead in the tradition of, say, Fairpoint Convention as much as Massive Attack, and though it might not convert sceptics it is convincing, and occasionally thrilling, demonstration that the wilderness can be a great place to cook up new ideas.
At heart, Third is an album full of contradictions. It's obviously indebted to the '60s, but it still sounds futuristic; it could easily be the work of an entirely different band, yet it still sounds like Portishead; it's home to both their heaviest and most fragile songs yet.
This is a record substantially more alive than its eponymous predecessor. Portishead still sound like no-one else, but more importantly they aren’t just sounding like themselves, either: this is an album that occupies its own space, untethered to any of the musical trapping and quagmires of genre that snare so many other artists.
Both ancient and futuristic, a mildewed signal from a more advanced culture that failed to survive the ice age, Third doesn’t make you pay attention to its desolate contours, but rather stare out of the window, creeping panic causing your mind to dart in a million dark directions at once.
Third is the best album of the millennium.
Nobody ever listened to Portishead for their sparkling personalities or musical variety. What they're brilliant at is obsessively textured studio dread, and Third is an unexpected yet totally impressive return.
Third exists to be listened to, ironically, in places like coffee-shops; the difference between this and past work is that this record might make casual listeners frown over their coffees. Again, that’s probably Portishead’s intent, and taken as such, Third is a carefully rewarding record with enough inspired turns to entertain throughout.
Even though not every twisted move they make on Third pays dividends, considering the stakes, consciously fucking with their formula is a bold gamble for which they should be saluted.
Portishead's bleakest masterpiece.
Let me start this review by saying that this is undoubtedly my favorite Portishead album. As much as I love Dummy, their most highly praised work in their short yet consistent discography, Third takes their dark subject matters to an extreme while presenting a completely new sound-palette, and a mind bending production style.
So, this is the Third and final project from the iconic trip hop/electronic group, released in 2008, nine long years after their self ... read more
me track 1-7: "What a nice little album. Really calms me down."
me when Machine Gun: "AAAA AAAAA AAAAAA"
"So Portishead are coming back after a near ten year hiatus? I'm sure they've mellowed over the years, maybe we'll get 'Dummy' version 2".
Cue the intro to 'Machine Gun'.
Maybe not.
"the eeriest album ever made"
This is without question one of the most harrowing listens I've had to any piece of music. Portishead's output has always been saturated in eerie melancholy, like it's being broadcasted from a record player covered in cobwebs in the center of some decrepit lounge. But this...this album is something on an entirely different level. The plucked twangy tones of the guitars, the chirping alarm style synths, the erratic percussion, the blaring bass, every ... read more
1 | Silence 4:59 | 92 |
2 | Hunter 3:57 | 89 |
3 | Nylon Smile 3:16 | 86 |
4 | The Rip 4:30 | 96 |
5 | Plastic 3:27 | 90 |
6 | We Carry On 6:27 | 92 |
7 | Deep Water 1:30 | 82 |
8 | Machine Gun 4:43 | 93 |
9 | Small 6:45 | 88 |
10 | Magic Doors 3:31 | 90 |
11 | Threads 5:47 | 92 |
#1 | / | Beats Per Minute |
#1 | / | PopMatters |
#1 | / | Slant |
#1 | / | Treble |
#2 | / | No Ripcord |
#2 | / | Pitchfork |
#2 | / | Tiny Mix Tapes |
#3 | / | Spin |
#4 | / | Consequence of Sound |
#4 | / | FACT Magazine |