There are many adjectives that can be used for Beth Gibbons' voice. With tracks like "Roads" and "Sour Times," her voice will go down as perhaps the most sultry voice ever recorded. And while Portishead may have seen their legacy capitalized a decade ago, there is a song on Third that strikes a tremendous chord within my spirit.
Whenever I listen to it, I am overwhelmed with tranquil images. One would not be morbid enough to envision one own's death, but if this blog supersedes time and someone is able to read this upon my death bed, I think it would be a beautiful song to fit my demise. Only 1:31 minutes, it lasts just long enough to leave an imprint like a step in the sand, but light enough for the wind to eventually blow away the remnants.
The mandolin lightly plucks along as Gibbons sounds as fragile as she ever has. And somehow sandwiched between tracks so mechanical in nature, this would cut the album in half. Beautifully insecure. And at any moment, I've learned that being human is being in love with one's flaws. We are woefully incomplete and this is never felt more profoundly than in one's passing. And no matter how hard or jagged the path, there is always an eye to our storm and "Deep Water" serves its purpose admirably.
So while the insecurity may play through, it is the subtle strength that is jarringly present that offsets the morbid mood. "Somehow turn me around/No matter how far I drift/Deep Waters/Won't scare me tonight..." There is never anything I fear because, honestly, there is no path. Just an ocean of possibility and deep waters won't scare me ever again.
This. Is. Truth.
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