Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 27/03/06
Label: Virgin

Sometime between their first video being played on "Rapido" in 1990, and the release of "Blue Lines" the following year, Massive Attack were described as "even better than Soul II Soul". (Note to readers under 25: that, then, was about as hyperbolic as you could get when describing a dance/pop act). That they went on to outlive Jazzie B's crew by a decade (and counting) was proof that vast swathes of dance aficionados were after more than house beats and happy-clappy sentiments.

While the three subsequent albums have varied in terms of hit-quota, collaborators and
critical success, the Bristol trio - Robert del Naja, Grant Marshall and Andrew Vowles, aka 3D, Daddy G and Mushroom (now departed) - have never deviated from their singular path. Melancholic, paranoid, edgy, moody-as-hell dance music you can't dance to (unless it's a kind of lying-down lambada - but you know that...)

"Collected" - released to prime the world for next year's fifth album - contains 14 tracks from "Blue Lines", "Protection", "Mezzanine" and "100th Window" (plus a bonus CD of rare, reworked and new stuff, and a video DVD). You can guess the best bits - none of them are from "100th Window". The unsurpassably majestic "Unfinished Sympathy" still sounds like nothing else ever written: a bosomy soul diva emotes about her heartbreak, as someone plays the spoons, out at sea a foghorn blares, and underneath it all a small orchestra plays the slow movement of a lost Mahler symphony. Not bad for an inner city dub DJ, graffiti artist and their computer-savvy friend.

"Karmacoma", with its dustbin clangs and anti-love lyrics ("You sure you want to be with me? / I've nothing to give... Don't want to be top of your list") remains one of the grimiest songs ever recorded, Del Naja's whispery, deadpan rap style contrasting with Tricky's upfront, petty-criminal-and-proud-of-it rhyming. The fantastically textured combination of the ethereal Liz Fraser, a harpsichord (harpsichord!) riff and a bass line like a series of underground nuclear tests, ensure "Teardrop" still tingles spines, while a ringing telephone (or something that sounds like it) buried deep in the mix acts like a link to an outside world you are both unable and unwilling to return to. All support the argument that Massive Attack were one of the most important bands of the 90s.

But what of the 00s? Well - the album's most unlikely highlight, given the unwritten rule that all new tracks on greatest hits collections must be woeful, is the sweeping, lush "Live With Me". It has strings, throbbings, elderly soul statesman Terry Callier wuh-ooh-ing his way through a blues lament, knee-trembling chord changes tugging you hither and thither like drowsy parents, and a video of a girl getting drunk at home in her knickers. It may not ensure another decade as dance royalty, but it's the perfect riposte to anyone who thought their best was behind them.

    by Anna Britten