Album: Massive Attack

100th Window, Virgin

For an album that's been almost five years in the making, it's hard not to be underwhelmed by 100th Window, which seems to shrink back from the developments of its predecessor Mezzanine to a musical space of barely differentiated grey tones, rather like finding your computer stuck on greyscale while the world slips by in colour. "Future Proof" makes for an unimposing, almost apologetic opening, introducing the album's miasmic, drifting sound by having the circling keyboard melody obscured by further sheets of synthesiser textures, with all the usual foreground action of guitars buried deep within the mix. The effect is akin to peering at a watercolour from which all detail has been washed away. The effect is repeated in track after track, with smears of Arabic-flavoured string drones and scratchy "glitch" textures draped over sinister plodding basslines and hovering, cyclical keyboard figures. Eschewing the distinctive melodies that might impart more individual defining characteristics, the tracks blur together, like parts of some longer continuum – and when Robert Del Naja speak-sings the lyrics, his monotonous delivery tends to sink into the background ambience. Though sweeter in tone, much the same applies to reggae crooner Horace Andy's contributions on a couple of tracks; and while Sinead O'Connor brings sharper definition to three others, it's questionable whether her lyrics – about wanting Jah to intercede on behalf of the abused children of England, and advising women to check if their partner is one of the "few good men" – add much of import to the proceedings. An album with hidden shallows.