It was all too sad that by far the best moment of Massive Attack's Brixton concert late last year was a take of Unfinished Sympathy with the same singer they'd employed at the same venue 10 years previously. There were a very small handful of moments that threatened to spray the crowd with magic, but these were lost in a welter of rocked-up guitar from a fearful arse in a platinum bleach haircut, or else completely poisoned by the self-aggrandising running commentary delivered by the couple in front of us. Thinking of the wonderful dub spaces opened up in their first record, and the sparse arrangements of their second, and the splendid paranoia of their fourth, this gig replete with every bit of sonic house-room stacked full with percussion and tasteful instrumentation was a real shocker. The hit-me-over-the-head-with-a-breezeblock-I-don't-think-I-quite-got-your-point sloganising on their back-projection did nothing to hold our attention either.
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