General
Article 1
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Article 3
Article 4
Article 5
Article 6
Article 7
Article 8
Article 9
Dummy
Article 1
Article 2
Article 3
Article 4
Article 5
Article 6
Article 7
Article 8
Portishead (album)
Article 1
Article 2
Article 3
Article 4
Article 5
Article 6
Article 7
Article 8
Article 9
Article 10
Article 11
Live
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Article 9
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Article 12
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Article 17
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Breathy Sophisticates Romancing in the Ruins
The New York Times, May 4, 1995
In Portishead's music, mood is everything. On it's album, "Dummy"
(London), Beth Gibbons's breathy voice floats above samples of
film scores and old songs with an undertow of rhythm, suggesting
tentative romance amid the ruins of yesterday's pop. When the
group performed at the Supper Club on Sunday night, it strove
to create just the right tone of bleary sophistication; the weather
co-operated with rain.
Although the show was sold out, tables
and chairs were set up, night-club style. As lightshow blobs oozed
on a screen, a disk jockey serenaded early arrivals with lounge
and sound-track music, including some of the sources for Portishead's
samples. For his last segment, he switched to louder, more current
dance rhythms, with slow-thumping bass lines. After a wordless,
10-minute film, "To Kill a Dead Man" - shards of plot
from a suspense movie - the group appeared onstage, dimly lit
and unassuming.
As a six-member band, Portishead's task
was to recapture the fragile tone of its album, and it came suprisingly
close. Ms. Gibbons became a fin-de-siecle lounge singer, plaintive
and breathy as she delivered lines like "You abandoned me,
lost forever" or "The blackness, the darkness forever,"
and toying with a jazz singer's nasality when she revealed "I've
been a temptress."
The band supported her with Adrian Utley's
fuzz-toned of echoey guitar lines (akin to Ennio Morricone's 1960's
film scores) and John Bagott's spongy keyboard chords, over Clive
Deamer's steadfast drum-beats; Geoff Barrows, who writes the songs
with Ms. Gibbons and Mr. Utley, added squeky, dissonant record-scratching
from his turn tables. In new song, "Over," the band
ventured a fairly converntional rock climax, complete with solid
chords behind the chorus: "You've taken me over." But
for most of the set, Portishead kept its music hollow and impassive,
acheiving it's paradoxical mixture of ardor and wary detachment.
Then came the finale of a set that lasted barely an hour. It
was Portishead's hit, "Sour Times (Nobody Loves Me),"
revised and damaged. The band played it with Pink Floyd-like echo
and pomposity; it didn't use the "Mission Impossible"
sample that made the recording distincitive, and omitted a crucial
chord from the chorus. At the end, the song shifted to an uptempo
garage-band stomp, with Ms, Gibbons wailing "Nobody loves
me!" When Portishead started kicking and shouting, it became
just another rock band.
Jon Pareles
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