Portishead: Brixton Academy, London

PEOPLE WHO don't like Portishead sneeringly dismiss them as dinner party music, something the sickening middle class stick on in the background while they discuss worthy subjects over fine wines. But you have to wonder if these critics have actually ever properly listened to Portishead. What kind of dinner party is soundtracked by the extremes of melancholy and despair that poured out of Beth Gibbons during the '90s (the woman, lest you forget, who rhymed lonely with unholy, and made both sound like the end of existence)? The Last Supper, perhaps?