Portisheads pre-Coachella, private rehearsal in L.A. is about to get a lot less private. Its still daylight but people are lined up for a city block outside the Mayan Theater on downtowns Hill Street. Inside, the venue is crowded with industry types and journalists -- experienced and sometimes weary veterans of many rehearsals, concerts, and bands -- and even they buzz with anticipation for tonights performance. There is a flush of excitement in the air that has become contagious. This is the first time Portishead has played a gig in Los Angeles in a decade and it might be the last. Singer Beth Gibbons takes the stage and at the first sound of her voice, the crowd goes silent, enchanted. By the encores finish, Gibbons eases off stage and into the crowd. She smiles, shakes hands she is both delicate and devastating. The crowd goes nuts.
The media may love its rock gods and heathen priests, but it loves its elusive characters as well. Portisheads power comes from the unspoken, sensual language used to craft each song, piece by piece, with the elegance and self-discipline of musicians who respect one another. Theirs is a camaraderie borne from essential privacy. The band has no public story, per se. They neither feed the headlines nor have managed media personas of any sort. They lead private lives and from that, draw great strength and create great art. Geoffs rhythm reinforces Beths meaning, while Adrians tone shapes our mood. The music is mysterious but never misleads; it is never what you expect, but shows its meaning when you finally just shut up and listen. Some say its theme is loneliness, but others might say its about the possibility of human connection. Regardless, its affect on the audience is spellbinding.
Three days before the rehearsal, I meet with Portishead at the Roosevelt Hotel: Beth is relaxing in her room, Adrian Utley is busy with another interview, Geoff Barrow and I are sitting poolside and we cant stop laughing. Ive just given him permission to throw me in the pool. We are surrounded by strange people acting up in strange ways and its making him a bit uncomfortable so Ive suggested an alternative way to relieve the stress of an afternoon filled with press and publicity functions. Indeed, poolside is an odd place to find oneself with Portishead, discussing Third, the bands new album and first in ten years, released April 29 to coincide with bands appearance at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival.
Erin Broadley: You seem like you have a very healthy sense of humor. Do you think Portishead is misinterpreted as overly serious most of the time?
Geoff Barrow: Yeah, massively, but you dont really get to hear from us a lot. Most people are full of bullshit so theres not many truths out there. Youve got to take everything with a pinch of salt. I mean, we are [laughs] fairly serious about making music but I cant really take myself seriously as a performer. Im 36-years-old; Ill probably lose my hair in a couple of years and put a nice little ponch on, you know. Our seriousness comes down to trying to project our music in [a certain] way we look really miserable because were just trying desperately. A lot of people nowadays have backing tracks and tape and we just dont. We shit our pants every time we play. So far weve been really lucky and things have worked out. But you never know in a big gig scenario. We do live on the knife-edge of it actually sounding any good or totally rubbish. [Some bands] work in ginormous situations. We work in a studio.
EB: Controlled, personal
GB: Yeah, controlled environment. But when it comes to taking ourselves seriously, Beth really doesnt take herself seriously at all.
EB: One thing Beth said about you is that youre a contradiction of sorts: in some senses very traditional and then in other senses just hell bent on breaking the rules. How do you find the balance between the two?
GB: Im passionate about music. I think theres just so much shit everywhere politically, business wise, the way that people interact, communication. Portishead really comes about through frustration and we write about the inability for human beings to communicate, human conditioning and the way youre supposed to live your bullshit life, things that youre supposed to buy that you dont really need, mass marketing demographic swipes talent-less fucks being popular for no reason. It always happens; it was always sex symbols. Im not a grumpy old fuck at all but I feel passionate that weve taken a wrong turn somewhere and we constantly keep on taking those wrong turns. I mean, I think sites like yours make a difference to people. I think that you can live outside the box without fuckin being attacked.
EB: Like you can create your own little world where what you do makes sense.
GB: Yeah, and youre not alone in that world. Because thats always the preconception that as soon as you disagree with the mainstay of kind of human conditioning then youre ostracized outside and its bullshit, really. Its strange because weve always been considered like dance music
EB: Really?
GB: Well, I think so, by people who hang around by pools like this.
EB: [Laughs] Doing laps
GB: [Laughs] Doing laps, drinking cocktails, doing their party drugs, getting their skin cancer. Its pretty weird; the most horrible people Ive ever met have actually been through dance music. And all the people I really love are the people that make rock and roll [laughs]. But theres a definite distinction, especially in England because dance music is so enormous. Dance music in England is extreme electronic, Detroit-based, doing loads of pills and getting off your head that kind of vibe.
EB: You have always seemed a bit more organic than that.
GB: I mean, were fairly hard to categorize but [I dont know whether] thats not a good or bad thing, really.
EB: What are some of the other misconceptions that you run in to?
GB: We write music for people to chill out to. Thats the biggest misconception you could ever have.
EB: Do you think people are overly hyping the fact that its been so long between albums?
GB: Of course, yeah.
EB: Some are calling it a reunion but, well, you guys never broke up.
GB: We didnt, no.
EB: How do you keep from being frustrated with that kind of thing?
GB: Well, the thing is, the media as it works, most people you see have already answered your questions. Thats why theyre asking that question because they want a certain answer, because it works for their publication, because it lets them deliver what it is they need to deliver. Theres a lot of journalists out there so they want to make sure they get the job the next time then it all turns into one cluster-fuck of crap [laughs].
EB: [Laughs]
GB: So, its really weird. Weve met some really nice people and done some good interviews but all youre doing is fulfilling their needs for product.
EB: The balance between art and commerce
GB: Oh, massively, yeah. I think that thats the big thing. I think its a ginormous thing, actually, that we seem to always struggle with. When we do TV shows, sometimes we present ourselves in maybe a slightly harsher way. People have got this preconception that were actually this arty, English culture
EB: Standoffish?
GB: Yeah, they might think were standoffish because we just present music in quite a harsh way sometimes. In England, recently, when they were telling us to play this track and chop this up its like, You asked us on, you know what our record sounds like. This is us. If you dont like it then fuck off.
EB: It seems a lot of popular music lately is compromised by compromise.
GB: [Laughs] So why doesnt it sell anything? Because its shit and its been compromised.
EB: Its like the snake eating its own tail.
GB: Yeah, feed the monster. We call it feeding the monster all the time
EB: Feed me, Seymour!
GB: [Laughs]
EB: Being on both sides of the glass, as a producer and musician, how do you know when a song or album is done?
GB: Its in your gut, really. Thats what it comes down to at the end of the day. I always over think everything [laughs]. But its in your gut when it feels finished.
EB: Like, when your kid grows up and you finally just know its time to kick it out of the house.
GB: Yeah, exactly. Ive got two little girls. Ones been sick back in England at the moment. Shes not seriously sick but shes only four and a half so were a bit nervous about it. Kids are kids.
EB: Shes got your feisty genes. Shell be a fighter.
GB: [Laughs] I fuckin hope so.
EB: What were some of your favorite parts of this recording process? You wrote something on your website comparing it to a Tomb Raider or Lost. This journey with no answers
GB: It is. Thats what it was like. And now since we finished it, all the doors are open again so we can really go back into those things again.
EB: Do you enjoy recording?
GB: I enjoy the recording process because the writing and recording and mixing process for us kind of all happen at once, even though we do eventually do a mix of all the tracks at the end. We generally try and write and record at the same time and keep on edging it. Like, one track might have started off as an acoustic track and ends up as something completely different at the end of the album. Its not over-remixing; its just evolving. We definitely try hard not to do just standards. The idea for us is to progress musically, all the time, if we can. The whole idea of this album was to progress, to sound like us, but not repeat ourselves. Which is really hard.
EB: You did an interview with Pitchfork where you were talking about how you like to discover new things in the studio. What are some favorite tricks youve discovered? Like something that came about randomly but turned out really well
GB: Theres very little randomness in our studio. On this album theres a track called The Rip and it starts with an acoustic guitar and vocal and then I put some drums on it and a synth bass from the start because the idea of an acoustic track was doing my head in. I thought, Ill write this completely different thing. I decided to play half the track acoustically and then fade the track in, which is kind of like a studio thing anyway, but I did it and listened to it back I was like theres these things that you do, theyre really rare, like once every five years you get something that gives you chills. And thats what you do it for, totally.
EB: Its different for every artist but for actors sometimes the only reason that they do movies is to get to experience something theyve never experienced before. Is it the same for you?
GB: Yeah, I think it is. We changed. It might be subtle direction change to some people but it could be massive to others. Ive heard the people go, Oh I cant listen to that its weird, thats not Portishead. And its like, Well, it is because were us. But other people go, Oh yeah, its great, I really like that
EB: Who is anyone to decide what Portishead sounds like?
GB: Yeah. But you get these people, especially nowadays in our media friendly world. It was sort of weird; in 1998 we did this massive tour and we did all this stuff and then I kind of quit music for like three years.
EB: You also started your own label, Invada, during that time.
GB: Yeah. The label mainly deals with drone metal and just experimental jazz stuff and anything thats just fucked and a bit interesting. I met so many nice people that are just so not into the music industry no commercial aspirations because they know what theyre doing is just fucking odd. I met those people and just instantly it was like
EB: Youre home.
GB: Yeah. It really was. And I discovered bands like Sunn O))) and Ohm. I fuckin love Ohm. And people like Electric Wizard and bands like Silver Apples and lots of old English psych stuff. The Coral, we produced their album and theyve got an amazing collection of stuff. Interesting, old, horror rock-and-roll stuff.
EB: I read that you love old soundtracks and theyre a big influence on you.
GB: Yeah. Not so much on this record but in the past it used to be. Soundtrack people used to be able to really experiment with sound. Because they dont have to write a song, they just have to hit a drum and put it through an echo and all that kind of mad stuff. So lots of stuff Can, the Plastic People of the Universe who are a Czech republic psychedelic band from the mid-70s, theyre brilliant. Really out there. And they got locked away for playing music.
EB: In jail?
GB: Yeah. In the Czech Republic.
EB: Wow. Are you excited about where this album might take you? Youve said before that with the amount of time that went by between albums, what it allowed you to do was get rid of that pressure to come out with a big success which was nice because then you got to do whatever you wanted.
GB: Well, were contract free now in publishing and recording. So, to be honest, were just kind of not too sure whether we want to play the media game anymore, at all. I think we could always play it and I dont mean that in an arrogant way. I just mean that if we release interesting music then hopefully people will be interested in it. I think that we might disappear even more and just carry on releasing music and just let the music talk.
EB: Would you miss performing live?
GB: Well, we could possibly still do that. I just dont know how because if you consider traditionally on a 10-pound album in the UK, the band would get 80 pence and then we would give 20 percent to management and then might end up with 15 pence on an album or something. And Im not just talking about money here, but obviously thats what you need to live.
EB: Thats the thing, we can talk about art versus commerce all we want but at the end of the day you gotta eat. Your familys gotta eat.
GB: Exactly. So were going to investigate. Were talking to people about deals but, to be honest, Im finding its tougher and tougher doing the interview thing and finding it tougher and tougher to communicate with the media. Because, there are some brilliant journalists out there, but everyones got to do shit to survive and sometimes Id rather not be part of that game. And thats a really lucky position to be in, to have that choice. But sometimes I think we just think, fucking hell, how ridiculous is this. I think you can just put out a mission statement and just put out how you feel about that stuff on the Internet now. Why we took so long to make this record [is because] we had to feel it, really. So the futures going to be interesting, Im actually genuinely excited about releasing music by ourselves and not having to compromise.
EB: Hows it been with your fans?
GB: We have very little contact with our fans, really. Its not because we dont want to, because everything that we do is in our music...
EB: Audiences can be harsh, like asking you to apologize for taking time to record the album you wanted.
GB: [Laughs] Yeah. See, thats kind of fairly weird. Thats just the monster. The monster has created people like that. They basically go, Well, I want it now.
EB: Theyre all Veruca Salts.
GB: Basically, yeah. Thats who I see; Veruca Salts everywhere. But they dont know any different because thats the way theyve always had what they wanted, because manufacturing in China is cheap.
EB: And information is cheap.
GB: Yeah, exactly.
EB: But you have you draw the line somewhere because an album might belong to you but the band doesnt.
GB: Yeah, I know, but a lot of people probably think that the bands do. Strangely enough, I think a lot more people in America think that the band owes them something more than any other country. Thats what Ive noticed. Like, Why havent you done this? That is the weird thing about the Internet. We dip our toe into it. I usually drunkenly add a blog [laughs].
EB: How do you keep from losing your head?
GB: I kind of do, a lot. I kick the shit out of stuff. Its usually just using my punch bag or throwing Yorkshire pudding through a window, which I did recently. I burnt it and it was after a bad week so I just chucked them through the kitchen window. Not a good idea, really.
EB: Theres nothing like the sound of a shattering window.
GB: [Laughs] I know. Dangerous! I play a lot of football, you know, soccer. Its never violent cause Im fairly unfit any anger that I have is just taken out by collapsing on the floor.
[Both laugh]
Third is available in stores now. For more information go to Portisheads official site.
The media may love its rock gods and heathen priests, but it loves its elusive characters as well. Portisheads power comes from the unspoken, sensual language used to craft each song, piece by piece, with the elegance and self-discipline of musicians who respect one another. Theirs is a camaraderie borne from essential privacy. The band has no public story, per se. They neither feed the headlines nor have managed media personas of any sort. They lead private lives and from that, draw great strength and create great art. Geoffs rhythm reinforces Beths meaning, while Adrians tone shapes our mood. The music is mysterious but never misleads; it is never what you expect, but shows its meaning when you finally just shut up and listen. Some say its theme is loneliness, but others might say its about the possibility of human connection. Regardless, its affect on the audience is spellbinding.
Three days before the rehearsal, I meet with Portishead at the Roosevelt Hotel: Beth is relaxing in her room, Adrian Utley is busy with another interview, Geoff Barrow and I are sitting poolside and we cant stop laughing. Ive just given him permission to throw me in the pool. We are surrounded by strange people acting up in strange ways and its making him a bit uncomfortable so Ive suggested an alternative way to relieve the stress of an afternoon filled with press and publicity functions. Indeed, poolside is an odd place to find oneself with Portishead, discussing Third, the bands new album and first in ten years, released April 29 to coincide with bands appearance at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival.
Erin Broadley: You seem like you have a very healthy sense of humor. Do you think Portishead is misinterpreted as overly serious most of the time?
Geoff Barrow: Yeah, massively, but you dont really get to hear from us a lot. Most people are full of bullshit so theres not many truths out there. Youve got to take everything with a pinch of salt. I mean, we are [laughs] fairly serious about making music but I cant really take myself seriously as a performer. Im 36-years-old; Ill probably lose my hair in a couple of years and put a nice little ponch on, you know. Our seriousness comes down to trying to project our music in [a certain] way we look really miserable because were just trying desperately. A lot of people nowadays have backing tracks and tape and we just dont. We shit our pants every time we play. So far weve been really lucky and things have worked out. But you never know in a big gig scenario. We do live on the knife-edge of it actually sounding any good or totally rubbish. [Some bands] work in ginormous situations. We work in a studio.
EB: Controlled, personal
GB: Yeah, controlled environment. But when it comes to taking ourselves seriously, Beth really doesnt take herself seriously at all.
EB: One thing Beth said about you is that youre a contradiction of sorts: in some senses very traditional and then in other senses just hell bent on breaking the rules. How do you find the balance between the two?
GB: Im passionate about music. I think theres just so much shit everywhere politically, business wise, the way that people interact, communication. Portishead really comes about through frustration and we write about the inability for human beings to communicate, human conditioning and the way youre supposed to live your bullshit life, things that youre supposed to buy that you dont really need, mass marketing demographic swipes talent-less fucks being popular for no reason. It always happens; it was always sex symbols. Im not a grumpy old fuck at all but I feel passionate that weve taken a wrong turn somewhere and we constantly keep on taking those wrong turns. I mean, I think sites like yours make a difference to people. I think that you can live outside the box without fuckin being attacked.
EB: Like you can create your own little world where what you do makes sense.
GB: Yeah, and youre not alone in that world. Because thats always the preconception that as soon as you disagree with the mainstay of kind of human conditioning then youre ostracized outside and its bullshit, really. Its strange because weve always been considered like dance music
EB: Really?
GB: Well, I think so, by people who hang around by pools like this.
EB: [Laughs] Doing laps
GB: [Laughs] Doing laps, drinking cocktails, doing their party drugs, getting their skin cancer. Its pretty weird; the most horrible people Ive ever met have actually been through dance music. And all the people I really love are the people that make rock and roll [laughs]. But theres a definite distinction, especially in England because dance music is so enormous. Dance music in England is extreme electronic, Detroit-based, doing loads of pills and getting off your head that kind of vibe.
EB: You have always seemed a bit more organic than that.
GB: I mean, were fairly hard to categorize but [I dont know whether] thats not a good or bad thing, really.
EB: What are some of the other misconceptions that you run in to?
GB: We write music for people to chill out to. Thats the biggest misconception you could ever have.
EB: Do you think people are overly hyping the fact that its been so long between albums?
GB: Of course, yeah.
EB: Some are calling it a reunion but, well, you guys never broke up.
GB: We didnt, no.
EB: How do you keep from being frustrated with that kind of thing?
GB: Well, the thing is, the media as it works, most people you see have already answered your questions. Thats why theyre asking that question because they want a certain answer, because it works for their publication, because it lets them deliver what it is they need to deliver. Theres a lot of journalists out there so they want to make sure they get the job the next time then it all turns into one cluster-fuck of crap [laughs].
EB: [Laughs]
GB: So, its really weird. Weve met some really nice people and done some good interviews but all youre doing is fulfilling their needs for product.
EB: The balance between art and commerce
GB: Oh, massively, yeah. I think that thats the big thing. I think its a ginormous thing, actually, that we seem to always struggle with. When we do TV shows, sometimes we present ourselves in maybe a slightly harsher way. People have got this preconception that were actually this arty, English culture
EB: Standoffish?
GB: Yeah, they might think were standoffish because we just present music in quite a harsh way sometimes. In England, recently, when they were telling us to play this track and chop this up its like, You asked us on, you know what our record sounds like. This is us. If you dont like it then fuck off.
EB: It seems a lot of popular music lately is compromised by compromise.
GB: [Laughs] So why doesnt it sell anything? Because its shit and its been compromised.
EB: Its like the snake eating its own tail.
GB: Yeah, feed the monster. We call it feeding the monster all the time
EB: Feed me, Seymour!
GB: [Laughs]
EB: Being on both sides of the glass, as a producer and musician, how do you know when a song or album is done?
GB: Its in your gut, really. Thats what it comes down to at the end of the day. I always over think everything [laughs]. But its in your gut when it feels finished.
EB: Like, when your kid grows up and you finally just know its time to kick it out of the house.
GB: Yeah, exactly. Ive got two little girls. Ones been sick back in England at the moment. Shes not seriously sick but shes only four and a half so were a bit nervous about it. Kids are kids.
EB: Shes got your feisty genes. Shell be a fighter.
GB: [Laughs] I fuckin hope so.
EB: What were some of your favorite parts of this recording process? You wrote something on your website comparing it to a Tomb Raider or Lost. This journey with no answers
GB: It is. Thats what it was like. And now since we finished it, all the doors are open again so we can really go back into those things again.
EB: Do you enjoy recording?
GB: I enjoy the recording process because the writing and recording and mixing process for us kind of all happen at once, even though we do eventually do a mix of all the tracks at the end. We generally try and write and record at the same time and keep on edging it. Like, one track might have started off as an acoustic track and ends up as something completely different at the end of the album. Its not over-remixing; its just evolving. We definitely try hard not to do just standards. The idea for us is to progress musically, all the time, if we can. The whole idea of this album was to progress, to sound like us, but not repeat ourselves. Which is really hard.
EB: You did an interview with Pitchfork where you were talking about how you like to discover new things in the studio. What are some favorite tricks youve discovered? Like something that came about randomly but turned out really well
GB: Theres very little randomness in our studio. On this album theres a track called The Rip and it starts with an acoustic guitar and vocal and then I put some drums on it and a synth bass from the start because the idea of an acoustic track was doing my head in. I thought, Ill write this completely different thing. I decided to play half the track acoustically and then fade the track in, which is kind of like a studio thing anyway, but I did it and listened to it back I was like theres these things that you do, theyre really rare, like once every five years you get something that gives you chills. And thats what you do it for, totally.
EB: Its different for every artist but for actors sometimes the only reason that they do movies is to get to experience something theyve never experienced before. Is it the same for you?
GB: Yeah, I think it is. We changed. It might be subtle direction change to some people but it could be massive to others. Ive heard the people go, Oh I cant listen to that its weird, thats not Portishead. And its like, Well, it is because were us. But other people go, Oh yeah, its great, I really like that
EB: Who is anyone to decide what Portishead sounds like?
GB: Yeah. But you get these people, especially nowadays in our media friendly world. It was sort of weird; in 1998 we did this massive tour and we did all this stuff and then I kind of quit music for like three years.
EB: You also started your own label, Invada, during that time.
GB: Yeah. The label mainly deals with drone metal and just experimental jazz stuff and anything thats just fucked and a bit interesting. I met so many nice people that are just so not into the music industry no commercial aspirations because they know what theyre doing is just fucking odd. I met those people and just instantly it was like
EB: Youre home.
GB: Yeah. It really was. And I discovered bands like Sunn O))) and Ohm. I fuckin love Ohm. And people like Electric Wizard and bands like Silver Apples and lots of old English psych stuff. The Coral, we produced their album and theyve got an amazing collection of stuff. Interesting, old, horror rock-and-roll stuff.
EB: I read that you love old soundtracks and theyre a big influence on you.
GB: Yeah. Not so much on this record but in the past it used to be. Soundtrack people used to be able to really experiment with sound. Because they dont have to write a song, they just have to hit a drum and put it through an echo and all that kind of mad stuff. So lots of stuff Can, the Plastic People of the Universe who are a Czech republic psychedelic band from the mid-70s, theyre brilliant. Really out there. And they got locked away for playing music.
EB: In jail?
GB: Yeah. In the Czech Republic.
EB: Wow. Are you excited about where this album might take you? Youve said before that with the amount of time that went by between albums, what it allowed you to do was get rid of that pressure to come out with a big success which was nice because then you got to do whatever you wanted.
GB: Well, were contract free now in publishing and recording. So, to be honest, were just kind of not too sure whether we want to play the media game anymore, at all. I think we could always play it and I dont mean that in an arrogant way. I just mean that if we release interesting music then hopefully people will be interested in it. I think that we might disappear even more and just carry on releasing music and just let the music talk.
EB: Would you miss performing live?
GB: Well, we could possibly still do that. I just dont know how because if you consider traditionally on a 10-pound album in the UK, the band would get 80 pence and then we would give 20 percent to management and then might end up with 15 pence on an album or something. And Im not just talking about money here, but obviously thats what you need to live.
EB: Thats the thing, we can talk about art versus commerce all we want but at the end of the day you gotta eat. Your familys gotta eat.
GB: Exactly. So were going to investigate. Were talking to people about deals but, to be honest, Im finding its tougher and tougher doing the interview thing and finding it tougher and tougher to communicate with the media. Because, there are some brilliant journalists out there, but everyones got to do shit to survive and sometimes Id rather not be part of that game. And thats a really lucky position to be in, to have that choice. But sometimes I think we just think, fucking hell, how ridiculous is this. I think you can just put out a mission statement and just put out how you feel about that stuff on the Internet now. Why we took so long to make this record [is because] we had to feel it, really. So the futures going to be interesting, Im actually genuinely excited about releasing music by ourselves and not having to compromise.
EB: Hows it been with your fans?
GB: We have very little contact with our fans, really. Its not because we dont want to, because everything that we do is in our music...
EB: Audiences can be harsh, like asking you to apologize for taking time to record the album you wanted.
GB: [Laughs] Yeah. See, thats kind of fairly weird. Thats just the monster. The monster has created people like that. They basically go, Well, I want it now.
EB: Theyre all Veruca Salts.
GB: Basically, yeah. Thats who I see; Veruca Salts everywhere. But they dont know any different because thats the way theyve always had what they wanted, because manufacturing in China is cheap.
EB: And information is cheap.
GB: Yeah, exactly.
EB: But you have you draw the line somewhere because an album might belong to you but the band doesnt.
GB: Yeah, I know, but a lot of people probably think that the bands do. Strangely enough, I think a lot more people in America think that the band owes them something more than any other country. Thats what Ive noticed. Like, Why havent you done this? That is the weird thing about the Internet. We dip our toe into it. I usually drunkenly add a blog [laughs].
EB: How do you keep from losing your head?
GB: I kind of do, a lot. I kick the shit out of stuff. Its usually just using my punch bag or throwing Yorkshire pudding through a window, which I did recently. I burnt it and it was after a bad week so I just chucked them through the kitchen window. Not a good idea, really.
EB: Theres nothing like the sound of a shattering window.
GB: [Laughs] I know. Dangerous! I play a lot of football, you know, soccer. Its never violent cause Im fairly unfit any anger that I have is just taken out by collapsing on the floor.
[Both laugh]
Third is available in stores now. For more information go to Portisheads official site.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
suzika:
HELL yeah i love Portishead <3
jodymark:
Nice one!