9 hours ago.
Updated 8 hours ago
News of Massive Attack’s planned return to Australia a few months back brought much shared joy among its many fans, for the Bristol-born “trip-hop” pioneers had not performed on our shores since 2010.
With a deep catalogue of moody, absorbing material spanning 35 years that includes a handful of superlative, generation-defining songs – all rooted in its signature melange of electronic music melding human and processed sounds – the collective hope was that the group could reignite on stage, just as it had done 16 years earlier.
It was a queer feeling, then, to be among 9000 or so hopeful people at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre on Thursday who bore witness to a concert that only occasionally managed to evoke the aching, inspirational sense of awe that this band’s art has long conjured.
It is highly unusual that production choices detract from the music, but that was surely the case on the first night of the three-date Australian tour.
The show started with the band members walking on stage and waving in response to welcoming cheers. Spirits were high – and then we all waited while a video played on the big screens above the musicians, showing a five-year-old viral clip of a macaque that had been trained to play Pong via its brain activity after receiving neural implants; the game controller had been unplugged, but it continued to twiddle the joystick, blissfully unaware.
This odd choice set the tone for the show: the suggestion, one supposes, was that we’ve all become some version of the macaque, saturated in stimuli, amusing ourselves to death while ignoring what’s going on around us.
That worked as a thematic device but, practically, it meant this became the rare concert where the visuals were regularly emphasised ahead of the audio. This was a decision: clearly, Massive Attack seeks to provoke its audience and shake them from their torpor, and the digital billboards overhead are their preferred canvases.
It became a glaring misfire, though, when the visual content bled into the sound mix, effectively undercutting their artistry.
On this tour, the British band are again using a rotating cast of vocalists, mirroring the collaborative approach they have taken across their five albums, from Blue Lines (1991) to Heligoland (2010).
In practice, this worked well: band leaders Robert Del Naja and Grant Marshall combined early on Risingson, a dynamic, stone-cold classic from their 1998 masterpiece, Mezzanine, which The Australian in 2023 included on a list of flawless albums, citing its spectral intrigue that runs deep across 11 gripping tracks.
The pair then ceded the centrestage microphone to the likes of Elizabeth Fraser (whose songs included Black Milk, Group Four, Teardrop), Horace Andy (Girl I Love You, Hymn of the Big Wheel, Angel) and Deborah Miller (Safe From Harm, Unfinished Sympathy).
That Massive Attack’s concert started with everyone – including the performers – watching a video, though, was indicative of how we’d spend the next 105 minutes, where the potential for distraction was ever-present; the concert equivalent of “double-screening”, or looking at your phone while sitting in front of your TV.
The information overload was considerable and risked overshadowing the nuances of the brilliant music, which was largely played live by a tight band – names unannounced – that included a guitarist, bassist, a synth/keys player and two percussionists.
The lowest moment was when Fraser – easily one of the world’s great vocalists, possessing exquisite tone and control – was undercut by voiceover from the on-screen footage.
In a choice between hearing her or Yevgeny Prigozhin, the sensible choice is Fraser, every day of the week; and yet on Thursday night she was faded out, in the closing moments of a song, in favour of the former leader of Russian mercenary group Wagner, who was shown and heard speaking passionately to the camera prior to his death in 2023.
This was a bizarre and unforgivable production choice, given it effectively smudged one of Fraser’s precious few performances.
The subtitled on-screen narratives circled themes including society-wide surveillance, the effects of the military-industrial complex, under-reported death tolls and religious persecution in war-torn countries led by corrupt governments, billionaires seeking refuge in Swiss tax havens, decrying Trump’s decision to bomb Iran while inferring the US President had manipulated global financial markets, and so on.
Del Naja dedicated Safe From Harm “to the people of Palestine,” and the big-screen was briefly overtaken by a gigantic Palestine flag.
Using those screens to give history lessons through filtered lenses was quite a departure from what’s usually done at arena-sized concerts, although cameras did occasionally show close-up footage of the performers amid a traditionally underlit design favouring white, red and black shades.
The band’s dedication to using their platform to broadcast those sorts of messages was admirable, but it also came across as heavy-handed, polemic and divisive. You had to decide, early on, to tune out most of the on-screen messaging lest you miss the subtleties of their songs.
Those fans who knew of their politics, activism and outspoken history were well-warned, but there must have been a decent chunk of casual attendees left scratching their heads, wondering why parts of the show came across as a total bummer, and perhaps questioning why they’d paid $180 to attend what sometimes felt like a social sciences lecture.
In highlighting what it perceived as many of the world’s woes, Massive Attack has also effectively developed its own propaganda machine, which plays nightly to a captive audience, most of whom were simply hoping to be reminded of the greatness of this singular act and its many brilliant musical achievements.
Instead, the accumulated effect of inhaling so much apocalyptic, browbeating social commentary was exhausting. Over time, it evoked a creeping sense of existential dread – which, surely, was an intended response, if a curious one to inspire within a globally popular band’s devoted fanbase.
There were certainly some great moments – the ominous bass rumble of Angel and Miller’s hair-rising vocals in Unfinished Sympathy among them – but too few.
Exiting, then, was a relief – but not before the night’s best moment in the finale: Teardrop, another cut from Mezzanine, and one of the most perfect songs ever created, wherein Fraser reprised one of the greatest vocal performances ever recorded.
It felt as though the audience was holding its breath for five minutes, drinking in every molecule of her shimmering, devastatingly beautiful melodies. Overhead, for the first time all night, the screens were thankfully blank, at last.
Massive Attack’s tour continues in Sydney (Sunday) and Melbourne (Tuesday, August 11). Tickets: frontiertouring.com/massiveattack
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Andrew McMillenNational Music Writer