Portishead - Third
Island/Mercury
April 28th, 2008.
Three albums in fifteen years isn't something that you'd necessarily refer to as 'prolific'. Fifteen years removed from said fifteen years and there's still only three albums to show for, however, we're not talking about prolificacy in terms of numbers, but quality. With Portishead, there's an infinite amount of material in each release - each release packs an overbearing weight of emotion and baggage taking years to digest and come to terms with. The group are held up to different metrics - very few are allowed to, and can do, this.
The ceilings dripping again - the third time this week. Any day now it will more than likely cave in. The certainty of this is uncertain, hard to grasp. Though it's obvious. Things aren't aligning - all the effort, wasted. Time down the drain. Washed up and away. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of reach. Struggling on many levels. The levels have levels. Drowning in broad daylight. Wallowing in waves of self-pity - unshakable in their strength. Witnessing yourself floundering around - doing nothing to save yourself. Undeserving of anything that comes your way - both the good and bad. Stuck in limbo. Explaining things in a way that circles around what you mean - avoiding the truth by any means necessary. Facing it is far too real - heavy and hanging. Slowly coming to terms with the fact that things aren't going to change anytime soon. At all, even. How you've always done it will be how you always do it. Unable to escape the grip of self.
Haunted by self-doubt. It lingers like the scent of decay and unforeseen fear. Yesterday, it seemed like things were looking up - what happened? Fed up with the way that life has panned out, disappointed and downright sick. Feelings of betrayal arise and root. Betrayal of self - the mirror only reflects what it's given. Slow and certainly suffering. Unsure of where the next breathe of air will show its head.
Dripping in droops - the time for drops is well past. Thick, heavy, and hazy, the weight of the infinite bears down. A burden of the greatest grudge. A grudge turned inwards - centered.
Lost at sea with no lighthouse in sight.
