Hot New Joint: Tricky- "Nothing's Changed"
My first experience with Tricky was on Valentine’s Day,
1997. I was home sick from school, and I
had just gotten a copy of Tricky’s sophomore release, Pre-Millennium Tension. Buried under the covers, a little out of it
from whatever cold medication I was on—I was completely unprepared for the
claustrophobic and terrifying atmosphere on the record.
It was a record I wanted after reading a four-star review of
it in Rolling Stone, and after seeing
the video for the single “Christiansands” on “120 Minutes.” For the longest
time, I still wasn’t “into” the album. It frightened me, actually. Sure there
were some accessible songs, and two singles that were released, but the final half
of the record is…something else. It took me well into my 20s to be “ready” to
listen to and accept Pre-Millennium
Tension.
Tricky, as an artist—one could argue that he fell off around
1998, with the release of his third record, Angels
With Dirty Faces. Some would ague that he fell off with Pre-Millennium Tension, and some would
say the only good album Tricky produced was his debut, 1995’s Maxinquaye. Tricky, as an artist, got
his start in the early 1990s as part of the Bristol-scene that gave birth to the
Wild Bunch—later known as Massive Attack. Along with Massive Attack, and artist
like Portishead, he helped create and define a genre known as trip-hop.
As a temperamental artist, in the wake of the release of his
debut, Tricky parted ways with Massive Attack, and proceeded to run from the
label “trip-hop.” For a record recorded in Jamaica, Pre-Millennium Tension is one of the darkest fucking records I have
ever listened to. Nothing since 1997 has come close to how uncomfortable and
suffocating of a sound Tricky achieved.
After 1998, things started to go downhill—Tricky, claiming
he wasn’t compromising his sound to make the music that people wanted him to
make, released some really awful records. But like many artists that I have had
continuing affection for, every time Tricky pops up with a new release, I take
note. And every time, I’m relatively disappointed.
Tricky’s last record was released in 2010—less than a half
hour long, largely forgettable. In the time that’s passed since then, I was
wondering what he was up to. Now I know. On Wednesday, it was announced that
Tricky had completed a new album, titled False
Idols, and that it would be released in May. The first single was also
released on Wednesday—given away for free on his website.
“Nothing’s Changed,” is not a “return to form” for Tricky. I
think the only thing that could ever be called that was if he released an album
that sounded exactly like Maxinquaye or
Pre-Millennium Tension. However,
“Nothing’s Changed,” the lead single off of False
Idols is the most promising thing he’s put out in a LONG time. It’s not
claustrophobic in sound, but it’s dark, and that’s a good sign.
One of the fascinating aspects of the single is that it’s a
meta-single. I’ve never known Trick to be self-referential, but on “Nothing’s
Changed,” a majority of the lyrics are comprised of material from the song “Makes Me Wanna Die,” the second single off of Pre-Millennium.
The rest of the lyrics seem like a response to words that he
had written 12 years ago—in the former, the words are “…says if I change my
stride/then I’ll fly.” He answers now with “But nothing’s changed/I feel the
same/It’s just shorter days/I still hurt the same.”
During his run in the early 90s, Tricky collaborated quite
often with his then-muse, and then-girlfriend Martina Topley-Byrd. Their
partnership ended a long time ago, and while they share a child together, I
never really know where their relationship is. She’s popped up occasionally for
a guest appearance on some of his recent albums, and I believe last year, the
two were touring together, performing Maxinquaye
from start to finish. It’s Topley-Byrd’s voice that we hear on “She Makes Me
Wanna Die.” Her voice was one of elements that make Tricky’s early material so
great.
Here, on “Nothing’s Changed,” she’s unfortunately been
swapped out for vocalist Francesca Belmote. Nothing against Belmonte—she’s a
fine singer, but I feel at times she’s trying to do her best impression of
Topley-Byrd.
“Nothing’s Change” is powered by a steady programmed beat, a
bassy synth line, and strings that sweep throughout. As mentioned early, the
oppressive atmosphere has long since raised on Tricky’s music. There’s heaviness
to this song, and a glaring sadness throughout. It’s too soon to tell if this
is reflective of the entire record, but Tricky currently has my full attention.
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