Heligoland
Massive Attack
Score:56
Reviewer: Ed Butler
Label: Virgin (Worldwide)
Reviewed: Mar 4th '10, Released:2010
It’s tempting to draw comparisons between Heligoland, Massive Attack’s long awaited return (we’ll ignore the Robert ‘3D’ Del Naja solo-effort-under-band-name album, 100th Window) with Portishead’s triumphant Third from 2008. So let’s start there. Trip-hop legends of the early- to mid-1990s both return a decade into the 21st century with an attempt to revive their trademark sound while remaining relevant to comtemporary musical styles.
On Third, this was accomplished in spades. The band’s horror-movie ethos shone through on an album that sounded for all the world as though they never stopped making music together, just failed to release anything. Heligoland, on the other hand, overwhelmingly feels like a group of middle-aged men and women (Grant ‘Daddy G’ Marshall turned 40 last year, 3D is 43, Andy Vowles 44) trying desperately to form a connection with a brand of music they have drifted apart from. The band’s shift from dub-inflected hip hop in the 1990s to today’s efforts at electronica were signposted on 100th Window, which in itself should have served as a warning. It was a cold, flavourless piece that was saved only by quality guest performances which were sorely underutilised. Here, guest vocals again reign, and carry the day, but efforts at humanising their rudimentary beats often fall flat.
‘Girl I Love You’ features Massive Attack veteran Horace Andy washing his soulful voice over bland droning synths before being rescued by a vibrant horn section that borrows liberally from Radiohead and Miles Davis. When it works, though, it works well. Opener ‘Pray for Rain’ is sublime, and unsurprisingly features Tunde Adebimpe, perhaps the most human of frontmen. His soft timbre enhances ever note it sits over, and the faux-acapella breakdown to close is stunning.
Important as it is not to compare Heligoland to Massive Attack’s earlier triumphs, the albums stands on its own as a fairly rustic effort at modern electronica. There are clear moments of vocal splendour – Martina Topley Bird, Damon Albarn and Guy Garvey all deserve a mention – but once the voices fall silent, Heligoland still resonates with the sound of older men who put aside the turntable and still can’t figure out what to do with this laptop thingy.
