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Recent Articles By Dan LeRoy

National Features

  • The Pitch
    We (Heart) Matt

    The Shawnee Mission East class of '08 loves its gay homecoming king.

    By Jen Chen
  • Village Voice
    The Cro-Mag Diaries

    Remembering the brutal life and times of John "Bloodclot" Joseph, New York hardcore icon.

    By Rob Harvilla
  • Seattle Weekly
    Being Gary Busey

    Everybody thinks Jeff Swanson is somebody famous. And he does nothing to dissuade them of the notion.

    By Aimee Curl

Much of Portishead's third album comes down to what it is not. Geoff Barrow, the mastermind behind the British trio, acidly observed that in the wake of trip-hop's mid-'90s ascendance, Portishead's scratchy, introverted anthems were turned "into a fondue set," their late-night ambience appropriated by advertisers. Easy as it might have been to turn in another Dummy (nearly 15 years after its canonization as a seminal trip-hop text), Barrow, guitarist Adrian Utley, and singer Beth Gibbons fashion a new sound on Third. The results are mixed and most likely won't be used to sell fondue sets or anything else, for that matter. The record took a decade to make, and it takes more than a few listens to absorb its new appropriations: clanging krautrock guitars, surprisingly aggressive beats, catchy electropop. And even though some of the new songs stretch Gibbons' delicate voice to its brink, Third offers a throughline to Portishead's spooky roots, as do the spectral, minor-key melodies. The album's closing cuts reconcile the group's new sound with its classic one. Over a muscular groove enhanced by cowbell (!) and free-jazz sax, "Magic Doors" includes an irresistibly gloomy chorus and some familiar lyrical sour times. The even bleaker "Threads" queasily builds to a roiling rock chorus while Gibbons wails, "I'm always so unsure." You don't get much more '90s than that.

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