BETH GIBBONS & RUSTIN MAN - OUT OF SEASON

This album is a billion things at once. It's the haunting sway of Beth Gibbons' absinthe-drowned vocals,.. that eerie banshee whisper that crept into our heads and opened closets and tollways to the shadowy lands of Portishead. It's a departure from the turntable whirs and electronic riffs of Beth and Paul Webb's other bands,.. a plunge into the acoustic. But it lumbers and broods over waters just as murky as those found beneath older songs, like "Western Eyes" and "Only You".
It's a rich layering of sounds; thick like a tongue after that first sip of hot cider in October, swelling with the initial heat and saccharin tidal wave, then thinning in an exhale of bittersweet aftertaste. It's not-so-polished hardwood floors, and the way you can't help but stare at all the old pictures and books on a stranger's shelves,.. every faded sepia smile, every title and author. It's those Sundays you set aside for reading and painting, drinking and walking. It's those midday drives into the country, where the colors betray the changes in the world, and the Autumn breeze taunts your nose with the scent of plant decay and the promise of something new.
And just like those colors and that breeze, Out Of Season is a steady tale of passing hours,.. a smudged reflection of us living and moving on with time.
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