Beautiful Nightmares

Following the burgeoning rise of the early nineties alternative scene, the southwest UK city of Bristol became the home of a slowly growing movement combining down-tempo hip-hop beats with aspects of jazz, pop melodies and multi-textured samples. With the newly-dubbed trip-hop genre steadily growing in popularity, the debut release from the group Portishead, “Dummy”, went on to become a musical landmark – and one whose brooding bleakness remains a powerful listen over a decade later.

“Dummy” itself is certainly not an iPod album, nor one that would provide fitting accompaniment to socialising or good times. It feels much more like the soundtrack to a particularly tormented early morning, cumulating in lying on the floor in an alcoholic stupor and numbly considering the worthlessness of, well, everything. It’s almost like an auditory Dante’s “Inferno”, where each song wrenches you deeper into the abyss – except that the final discovery isn’t the chewed-upon head of Judas Iscariot, but the gloomy cries of vocalist Beth Gibbons.

Gibbons herself is undoubtedly the star of the record, and it’s all thanks to a voice that would probably be decried in any other context. Thin and shattered, what her singing lacks in technical power, it makes up for in emotional expressiveness, and those plaintive wails are a key facet when it comes to burning the songs into the listener’s memory. Thankfully, the record completely avoids any flirtation with histrionics, and the near-suicidal cries hit with tremendous power (so much that it’s not advised to listen to this if you’re in a low emotional state). Add in that almost every track is in possession of some solid vocal hooks, and you find that while misery loves company, it’s pretty catchy once you settle into it.

Of course, Beth’s singing isn’t the only ingredient here, with Geoff Barrow’s impressive sonic tapestries deserving applause. Mixing down-tempo, organic hip-hop beats with inspired samples, orchestration and Hammond organ, he creates a potent and intoxicating brew that seeps out of speakers like a dark fog and permeates every single pore until you’re effectively marinating in it. This is a definite counterpoint to any argument viewing sampling as a lesser musical art, and the cohesiveness, subtlety and atmospheric impact of these grooves is not to be underestimated.

Although “Dummy” is at its most powerful when experienced as its beautifully nightmarish whole, the whole thing is pretty hard to absorb until you’ve had time to break down the individual songs. The best place to start would be with the singles “Sour Times” and “Glory Box”, which are both excellent in their own ways. The former makes fantastic use of a jangling dulcimer sample that shimmers amidst dark bass and Beth’s mournful proclamation that “Nobody loves me… not like you do”. Despite the lyrical back-pedal at the end of the refrain, there’s no denying the sorrow in the initial part, and the desperate delivery helps it become one of the album’s most memorable moments. The closing “Glory Box” acts as the yang to its yin, with a far more forceful vocal, smoky Isaac Hayes sample and excellent jazz-influenced guitar work from third band member Adrian Utley snaking its way to a fantastic conclusion.

For further highlights, “Mysterons” provide a great introduction to the album, hinting at the gloom to come with a keening sci-fi sound effect selectively wailing over tight drums with submerged guitars and synths; Beth’s vocals flying as she mysteriously wonders “Do you really want?” without strictly specifying what the ‘want’ is. The evocative singing also ties the minimalist elements of “It Could Be Sweet” together (and compensates for the weaker R&B influenced beat, which sounds like the only non-live piece of percussion on the record), the depressive cry of “You don’t get something for nothing” continuing to push the nihilism home. It reaches a temporary apex on “Wandering Star”, where things begin to get disturbingly bleak. The monotonous bass grind is jarringly insistent in hammering the misery further, with sharp turntable scratches contrasting the ever-so-frail vocals: “Wandering star/For whom it is reserved/The blackness, the darkness, forever.”

While “Dummy”’s mid-section is arguably less consistent than its opening one, there are further jewels to be found, with both “It’s A Fire” (which is the most ‘positive’ thing on the album, although that’s not saying much) and the completely shattering “Roads” employing graceful orchestration to paint their desolate portraits. The latter also has another killer hook as Beth muses “How can it feel this wrong from this moment?”, sounding like she’s going to completely snap at any moment. A few of the remaining tracks (“Pedestal”; “Numb”) can’t really offer anything to top that, but they’ve the requisite atmosphere in spades, and when it’s as well developed and intricate as it is here, that’s no problem.

Overall, “Dummy” is honestly an utterly draining record, and one that can instantly evaporate any stray specks of happiness that it comes into contact with. However, there’s also a warped beauty to it – there’s something incredibly emotive and deep-reaching in its murky pull, and the vocals, lyrics and music are perfectly aligned to its overall themes and ambiance. While it’s certainly not for everyone, “Dummy” excels at everything it set out to do, and certainly deserves its vaunted status as a hazy, dark gem.