Massive Attack have always been brooders whose music has often augmented the listening experience through its evolutionary dynamics and cinematic song-writing. From ‘Blue Lines’’ enigmatic opener ‘Safe From Harm’, to ‘Protection’s’ dub-drenched ‘Karma Coma’ and ‘Mezzanine’s’ tribal epic ‘Inertia Creep’, their penchant for slow burning has often been underpinned by a very deliberate bass melody, arousing mood and depth which is ambiguous and yet an entirely incidental component to their shtick. Whilst that is on show here, ‘Heligoland’ also treads a new terrain of shape-shifting musical properties, assisted by a smorgasbord of guest vocal appearances, leading to some unexpected and sometimes breathtaking flourishes.

Arguably the guest appearances are more than just ‘features’, with the Bristolians writing exclusive scores to each individual's vocal nuances. Both the tracks featuring Martina Topley Bird’s enchanting vocal talents are a perfect juxtaposition of upbeat electronica and wistful folk; ‘Babel’s’ skittish drums coated in a simple yet warm organ melody clash with melancholic ‘Psyche’. The all round majestic beauty of ‘Saturday Come Slow’ featuring Damon Albarn is a real treat. Lo-fi guitar mumblings acutely capture the singer's startlingly vulnerable cadence with the simple repeated line “Saturday’s come slow, do you love me?” - sounding oddly comforting.  

‘Paradise Circus’ is a beautiful piece of sombre balladry built around a very simple xylophone melody and sub bass leading into a swirling crescendo of strings, bringing the song to an almost operatic close under the soft and lucid tones of ‘Mazzy Star’s Hope Sandoval’. Perhaps the most archetypal of Massive Attack inclusions is ‘Girl, I Love You’; that ever-present rumbling bass intro giving the listener nostalgic goose bumps, before what sounds like a school marching band playing off key jack knifes the closing few seconds in a sublime frenzy of brass.

As a critical aside, it probably doesn’t help that I’ve never been a huge fan of Elbow or their lumbering front man Guy Garvey. But even if I did love them and had an urgent wish to kiss his shoes and whisper sweet nothings to him, I’d still feel that ‘Flat of the Blade’ was a bit naff. It’s the aural equivalent of a brain aneurysm, and is best left to hospitals and kids’ classrooms respectively.

‘Heligoland’ is in many ways the most musically complete Massive Attack album. This has much to do with it being 2010 rather than 1991, and nineteen years has seen a mind-melting array of electronic music explode and combust in the public sphere. It would be deeply unfair to attempt to compare this to their previous efforts as no-one had really heard music like ‘Blue lines’ or ‘Mezzanine’ when they were released. Rather, it’s their ability to sculpt their craft from a plaster mould of guest appearances which truly leaves the impression that Massive Attack are like the everlasting gobstopper from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; unable to lose their taste-making qualities - no matter how long they are around for.

Heligoland is out now on Virgin

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Words: Chris McShee