Time to set foot on the misery mile. The ashes of the Bristol scene have
been scattered and by the sounds of things mourning is the order of the
day. Portishead's eponymous follow-up scraped the bottom of the lead
lined barrel, Tricky's last two efforts have all the charm of an obscene
caller muttering in your ear while he mangles his washing and label
mates and Massive proteges Alpha are offering evening classes in Taking
Life Too Seriously. Mezzanine might therefore seem to be yet another
instalment of what is begging to be called trip-goth. But before you get
the Nietzsche and packet of Bic's not so Safety Razors in give Mezzanine
a chance. Its true that the opening Angel might be the musical
equivalent of drowning a baby in the bath and Risingson quite possibly
the most thorough put down Tricky will ever experience but Mezzanine is
capable of both light and shade.
Its only on Teardrop, the third track
in where all sensible men and women brace themselves for the warbling of
ex-Cocteau Twin Elizabeth Fraser - a woman who normally sings like her
tongue has been fused to the roof of her mouth - that suddenly you
realise two things: one she can speak English like an adult human being,
two, when she sings it's like bright light sidling under a pair of
rippling black curtains. This is, depending on your viewpoint Massive
Attack's biggest problem, while Beth Gibbon sounds like she's going to
slash her wrists and Tricky like he's drinking her blood, Massive
Attack, despite the Cure sample, don't give the impression that they're
fully paid up members of the Joy Division fanclub. So despite the giddy
rush of drums and cable-thick guitars of Inertia Creeps or the
dissolving chaos of Group Four, Mezzanine sounds more like a guard than
an inmate. It is dark out there, at times, but as any white coat wearing
scientist will tell you, darkness is only the absence of light and
Mezzanine, is both light and shade.
by Robert Lowe