With a staccato intro completely fitting with its title, Machine Gun bursts into life to herald the return of Portishead, as if they've never been away.
It's eleven years since the last studio album from the trip-hoppers who once came with an entire Bristol scene behind them, but it seems like Beth Gibbons, Geoff Barrow and co have never been away ... which they haven't been, really, they just haven't been releasing records.
Gibbons' high, ethereal vocals soar above the doom-laden percussion (and the lyrics are no cheerier), giving the song a sense of paranoia, a scream on a midnight moor with something terrible creeping up behind you. And that, let's face it, is what trip-hop always did best.
It won't fail to catch your attention even if you weren't around for their original hoorah, and as an indicator of what to expect from the forthcoming Third, think of it like this - an old friend you haven't seen for while, back to remind you of why you liked them in the first place. And that's not such a bad thing to be at all.
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