PortisheadDummy

Smoky, crackling trip-hop that sounds like a spy film dissolving in the rain. 'Glory Box' aches over a slow-burning, fuzz-guitar groove while 'Sour Times' drips with paranoid, scratchy unease, Beth Gibbons' voice cracking like an old torch singer's. Built from vinyl hiss, vibraphone, and pure dread, it practically invented a midnight mood. A landmark of beautiful gloom.