Heligoland

Every once in a while an album will slip you by on its release, only for you to realise a year or two later that what you dismissed as an average record first time around is actually brimming with quality.

The album in question is Massive Attack's 'Heligoland.' The self-ordained sin of believing an album to be sub-standard, before giving the necessary investment is particularly true here, considering I hold the band in the highest regard. I am of the opinion that they are responsible for some of the most soulful and captivating music of the last twenty years.

Perhaps it was the album's predecessor, '100th window', that was the problem. At least that's how I'll try to pass it off. Devoid of any of the creativity and determination to provide the kind of tangible atmosphere rarely heard on record that could be attributed to previous work, '100th window' felt more than flat. It was as if this once great power, at the forefront of a much revered scene throughout the previous decade had faded away. As if someone had dimmed the lights to near darkness. The ashy remains of what was once a fire burning brightly.

Such was my disappointment, and such was the long seven year wait before Heligoland that my faith was lost. My approach to the announcement of a new album was one of ambivalence. A few proven vocalists drawn in to help with proceedings, and the return of Del Naja and Andy Horace didn't necessarily mean the band could ever get close to repeating the accomplishment of crafting some of the best records of the 1990s.

It was one track in particular that inspired me to revisit the album. Paradise Circus, with its off-kilter beats and the super-seductive vocals of Hope Sandoval was a track that I had already initially considered to be a highlight of an otherwise mediocre collection. On reflection, it could be one of the finest songs the band has released. The balance between the playfulness of the vocals, and the ethereal death of the soundscape is certainly as affecting as the driving bass of Safe from harm, say, or the terrifying hollowness of 'Inertia Creeps.'

Such was my unjust attitude to the album that this track has remained the only one I'd given repeated listens to.

Imagine my surprise then, on deciding to give the whole album another spin. The Horace Andy tracks are as sublime as previous tracks he has appeared on. Daddy G's angry growl about the banks being bailed out on Splitting the Atom resonates as a genuinely felt proclamation about the state of the country, demonstrating the sort of social awareness that you would be given to expect of the band. The dubby groove finds Massive Attack doing what they do best. 'Girl, I love you' is 'Angel''s weaker sister-song, but still wouldn't be found out of place on 'Mezzanine'.

The guests appearance from indie vocalists, despite my initial scepticism upon the album's release, actually prove to be yet more worthwhile contributions to the album. Damon Albarn's melancholic, soulful addition to 'Saturday Come Slow' feels like another highlight, as do the haunting vocals Guy Garvey lends to 'Flat of the blade,' a piece of displaced electronica that is fully realised, and relevant to the current sort of innovators operating in this particular field.

Martina Thorley-Bird's vocals fail to measure up to the heights reached by Tracey Thorn and Liz Fraser before her, though the tracks she appears on are still worthy of mention; 'Pysche' in particular makes you sit up and take notice, sounding like nothing else around at the moment, something that the band has always achieved so well.

So, apologies to Massive Attack, and for doing one of my favourite bands a dis-service. Let's hope they continue to make music this good some day soon.