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Broken Glass
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Massive
Attack: 100th Window
Virgin, 2003
Rating: 3.5
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Posted: February 23,
2003
By
Laurence Station
The winnowing of Massive Attack, from the core trio of British trip-hop
pioneers Andrew "Mushroom" Vowles, "Daddy G" Marshall and Robert "3-D" Del
Naja, is all but complete. Creative difference sent Vowles packing after
Mezzanine, the band's 1998 masterpiece. Marshall was the next to
take a break, deciding to spend more time with his family. That left Del
Naja, still called 3-D but clearly left with but one dimension at his
disposal. Collaborating with arranger/producer Neil Davidge for the second
straight release, Del Naja basically retreads Mezzanine, and the
wear and tear shows. There's little here that wasn't done better and more
purposefully last time around. And thanks in part to the lyrical and vocal
presence of Sinčad O'Connor, Massive Attack's revolving muse of the
moment, 100th Window proves the least impressive album in the
formidable group's catalog. Considering the expectations for a classic
each time out, however, it still makes for a solid, smartly crafted effort
-- just not a very inspiring one.
For all of Massive Attack's innovations -- from essentially creating
what would come to be known as the trip-hop sound to adding cinematic
shading to an electronica dance beat -- the group has followed a fairly
rigid formula. Feature a prominent (and often secondary) female vocalist,
toss in a few songs by Jamaican singer (and band mainstay) Horace Andy,
and a little fluid rapping (courtesy of Tricky on the first two releases),
and mix it all together against a dense, often subtly menacing sound
collage of samples, live instrumentation and intricately programmed beats.
Much like the steady drop-off of band members over the years, the rotating
talent pool of guest vocal chanteuses has irreparably thinned. The band's
clockwork infusion of arresting sirens (Shara Nelson on Blue Lines;
Nicolette and Everything But the Girl's Tracy Thorn on Protection;
Cocteau Twins singer Elizabeth Fraser and then-newcomer Sara Jay on
Mezzanine) contributed immensely to the kitchen-sink alchemy that made
previous albums so exciting (not to mention groundbreaking). O'Connor,
while possessed of a strong, distinctive voice, simply fails to blend into
the Massive Attack sound as well as those prior songbirds.
As a result, her three vocal contributions fail to inspire the same
level of attention. "What Your Soul Sings" boasts carefully plucked
strings, a metronomic beat and New Age-y harmonies, and simply lacks
teeth; it's placid, a criticism one could never convincingly make about
previous Massive Attack efforts, no matter how hypnotic or druggy things
became. "A Prayer for England" is a straight-up protest song that would be
more at home on an O'Connor solo effort; the vocals are pushed out front
and the message (peace, love, understanding) aggressively reiterated
throughout. O'Connor fares best on "Special Cases," where her vocals are
mixed on par with the heavy beat, the lyrics less obvious and forced. It's
the lone track where Massive Attack pays respect to its laudable history
of top-drawer female singers.
Del Naja and Andy handle the remaining vocal duties, with decidedly
mixed results. "Name Taken" and the impressively layered "Everywhen"
display Andy in fine form, his voice meshing seamlessly with the hypnotic
beats. Del Naja shines on "Butterfly Caught," offering abstract lyrics
against a steady, shimmering drum beat, while "Future Proof" conveys the
requisite amount of tension as Del Naja evokes the sensation of getting on
a plane (in our post-Sept. 11 world) and attempting to dampen his
apprehension by getting as high as the aircraft's altitude. "Small Time
Shot Away," on the other hand, is listless, barely registering above bland
elevator music. And the closing "Antistar" boasts real potential, but
meanders, ultimately droning on without achieving an equitable amount of
emotional release.
Indeed, it's emotion that's decidedly lacking (aside from O'Connor's
grating polemic) throughout 100th Window. The propulsive, cinematic
tension of Mezzanine is nowhere to be found; the daring hodgepodge
of rap, soul, dance and ecstasy that fueled Blue Lines and (to a
lesser extent) Protection, decidedly absent. For a Massive Attack
effort, it's simply bereft of fresh ideas. Factor in the shrunken talent
pool, and the fact that the album holds together at all is a noteworthy
achievement. But this is a Massive Attack record, and fair or not,
it must stand or fall against what has come before. Sadly, it doesn't even
come close.


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