Wine and Cheese: Portishead and bôa
Alternative icons of decades past, Portishead and bôa, excelled at playing with vocal range and befitting soundscapes for timeless tunes for the lonely and spiteful.
It’s your dream collab. The artists you add back-to-back to the queue. The pairing you can’t get enough of. You know they sound good together, but why? Welcome to Wine and Cheese, a series investigating the why and telling you all about it.
Written by Charlotte Keene
Photos courtesy of Last.fm and Wikimedia Commons
Ambient-noir group Portishead and indie-rock band bôa were the zeitgeist of the alternative ‘90s. Whether due to lack of attention or purposeful avoidance, both trios were more elusive than the typical Britpop bands. Their method of engaging in the industry solely from an art aspect rather than for fame worked for the time, where the alternative scene is built on being enigmatic. It was a golden age of music where experimentation and angst thrived. They existed in a pre-social media era where respect and listenership were built on music, not the brand. Of course, shying away from the spotlight eludes you from the mainstream, no matter how much technical recognition you get. Sonically very different, the groups find themselves side-by-side on whimsigoth and femme fatale playlists; perhaps for an impeccable ability to depict the yearning desolation that defined the decade.
Jasmine Rodgers, Alex Caird, and Lee Sullivan currently comprise the London band bôa, but the lineup has changed several times since its initial formation in 1992. Rodgers was just the sister of early days vocalist Steve Rodgers back when bôa jammed in their home studio. After hearing her sing around the house, the band asked her to join, and her brother took up guitar instead. The change was for the better, as the guitar shines the most out of all of their instrumentals. Part of what creates their unique sound is their frequent use of acoustic licks blended with an otherwise hard rock soundscape, resulting in a laid-back, lush sound that builds depending on the tune. With an immense voice that shines through their discography, Rodgers’ vocals are unparalleled compared to her brother’s, especially on tracks that feature his voice, like “One Day.”
Where Portishead was well-known, bôa flew under the radar. However, with the likes of TikTok and the cyclical nostalgia for music from our parent’s adolescence, hits from both bands have resurged for cross-generational exposure. bôa have reformed to work on a new album following the success of “Duvet” on social media in 2021, in addition to re-releasing the single last March. They have returned to music after over a decade of unplanned inactivity. bôa never received much recognition, except for their place on the cult-classic “Serial Experiments Lain” soundtrack, which unsurprisingly featured “Duvet” of all songs. Old tunes receiving new fame is typical of social media trends, but it is fortuitous that it could reignite the spark of a long-dormant group. In discovering an audience in Generation Z, the group have returned indefinitely and eagerly engaged with their new, tech-savvy fans across different platforms. They just released the single, “Walk With Me,” on March 22, 2024 – their most recent release since their second album, Get There.
Portishead, on the other hand, burst onto the scene and changed it forever. They released three albums and covered ABBA’s “SOS” in 2016 for the film “High-Rise” before disappearing into “the blackness, of darkness, forever,” much like the lyrics from their hit “Wandering Star” suggest. In reality, between their affinity for privacy and the lack of recognition with solo and side projects, they safely retreated into the underground scene until this year for a live show album release and Gibbon’s debut solo album.
Born in 1991 on the precipice of trip-hop, Portishead took the musical approaches of industry heavyweights like Massive Attack a step further. More than thirty years later, you would be hard-pressed to find another group that mimics the trio’s spellbinding sound. After their 1995 Mercury Album of the Year win over the cookie-cutter British mainstream, the band was admired for vocal prowess more than anything else, but their choice to experiment beyond trip-hop was on purpose. Geoff Barrow, who worked for Massive Attack, played with samples like no one else, sampling his own creations and pressing drum breaks to vinyl only to scratch them up for a crunchier sound than programming them as a beat. Portishead pulled from hip-hop with Barrow’s sampling choices but also jazz, in the form of guitarist Adrien Ultley’s expertise, and soul, in the form of vocalist Beth Gibbons, ultimately rejecting the term trip-hop. Instead, they wanted to be original, coloring outside the lines of genres.
Both bands are no stranger to multi-genre influences, incorporating them seamlessly into their discography. bôa is usually identified as indie rock, but they lean garage rock in their heavy tracks and folksy new wave in their stripped-back songs. With a somewhat formulaic song structure, they manufacture complementary tracks that flow easily into one another. bôa warms you up towards fiery emotions even on songs that give the impression of soft ballads with the first verse.
Though bôa and Portishead both have more than one decent album to choose from, their most commercially successful albums pair well together. Portishead’s Dummy and bôa’s Twilight are atmospheric yet growly depictions of pain about loneliness and identity.
Dummy, celebrating a thirtieth anniversary in August, adapts the story of a 1977 television film of the same name, which chronicles a deaf and blind woman’s cataclysmic descent into prostitution. Listeners are possessed by Gibbons, charmed like a snake. She sings in a soulful, jazzy tone to soften the volume and immense power that it carries, soothing listeners. The vulnerable lyrics and hypnotic singing on the record are amplified by the eerie vintage soundtrack samples and low-pitched beats. Unfamiliar listeners might mistake the lo-fi instrumentation for minimalism when its intentional pulled-back quality illustrates discomfort as if something haunts the emptiness.
Twilight is a love letter to ‘90s alternative, a marriage between adolescent Britpop and dreamy shoegaze. The 2001 release was the group’s debut album, just like Portishead’s Dummy, but not quite as experimental or gloomy. Rather, it exudes closeness between musicians, almost as if you can sense the ease of friends playing together, unburdened by perceiving it as entertainment for anyone else. It is an unassuming record perfectly geared towards teenage angst and growing pains, a coming-of-age for every generation. Twilight is a masterful, cohesive instrumentation of kickback tunes, balancing to balance out the soulful wistfulness of singer Jasmine Rodgers.
Throughout the work, Rodger’s voice is rich, shifting between rasping and breathy. Some listeners might pick up on the similarities between her and Bjӧrk, especially on “Welcome.” Both bôa’s single and Bjӧrk’s “Venus as a Boy” exemplify drawn-out, over-enunciated syllables, making for purposefully coarse vocal runs. However, while the distinct sound is evident on much of Bjӧrk’s discography, it is not Rodger’s main singing style.
With “Fool,” bôa leans into a sound more akin to Portishead; Rodgers is vengeful and channels the scathing control that Gibbons has mastered. Her vocal runs on songs like “Elephant” give the illusion of a loss of control of her emotions, very much in the way Gibbons yearns. There is this moment on “Rain” where Rodgers draws out the lyrics “There remains” as the song closes, which is reminiscent of both the sound and evoking nature of Gibbons' approach, especially on songs like the resurfacing hit “Glory Box.” Gibbons pleads, “Give me a reason to love you / Give me a reason to be a woman / I just want to be a woman,” but she is not looking to be submissive. It is an albeit abstract song of protest. The single reflects on romance in a modern feminist society. Like “Rain,” the tune focuses on inner turmoil, whether due to self-destructive tendencies and apathy, as for Rodgers, or a frustratingly unequal relationship, as for Gibbons. “Glory Box” closes the album, a complicated, tumultuous note to end on. Twilight ends with “Drinking,” a tender expression of someone close to you being an alcoholic. It features acoustic instrumentals, sounding as if it were a long-lost song from Jeff Buckley’s Grace, melancholy and all. The choice for anguishing closers, even with more empowered tracks leading up, carries a synergistic mood between the two.
People mistake the bands as being mellow; Portishead’s Dummy was notably misunderstood, much to the band’s dismay. Instead, their works depict restraint. The bands perfectly balance the struggle between holding back and letting go so that whichever way they sway, the listener succumbs to it. Rogers and Gibbons do not croon; they moan — listeners have no choice but to be bewitched.
Rodgers and Gibbons both pursued solo work, but the sound they cultivated in their respective groups pairs so well. In collaboration, the vocalists are supplemented to create a curated sound tugging on the listener's vengeance and dissonance. They are not just technically good; they have an influence.
Rodgers is rage, expressing raw irateness, and Gibbons is gloom, melancholically controlled in tone. Both bands convey their chosen emotions extremely well, similarly approaching independent moods. The two powerhouses produce music that will have you close your eyes and reach your arms wide. Gibbons is conceptual in her lyricism, whereas Rodgers is grounded. Rodgers sings full of hope, whereas Gibbons expresses as though she has given up. Together, they bridge the disconnect between the esoteric and instinctual reactions to pain. Throughout their various works, vocal styles remain consistent — it is the sonics that ebb and flow through genres.