The Curse of Portishead Lifts

IN DECEMBER last year, three black-clad ghosts from the pop past clambered onstage at an off-season holiday camp in an icy, wind-whipped corner of Somerset. Dormant since the millennium, Portishead were not just airing their first new material in a decade but carrying the whole All Tomorrow's Parties festival on their shoulders as headliners and curators. No pressure, then.