Song of the Week is Consequence’s weekly column highlighting the latest and greatest new tunes. Find these new favorites and more on our Spotify Top Songs playlist, and for other great songs from emerging artists, check out our Spotify New Sounds playlist. This week, Beth Gibbons introduces her solo ambitions with “Floating on a Moment.”
Three decades after Portishead’s debut and 16 years after their most recent effort, Beth Gibbons has finally announced her long-awaited solo project, Lives Outgrown. While it’s not the first time Gibbons has stepped outside of the Portishead universe — she’s released more than one collaborative album and has lent her voice to artists like Kendrick Lamar — Lives Outgrown is the first full-length collection to bear Gibbons’ name and Gibbons’ name alone. Judging by its lead single, “Floating on a Moment,” it’s going to be a heavy one.
The track, helmed by Consequence’s 2023 Producer of the Year James Ford, exudes a certain hopelessness that, according to Gibbons, is emblematic of the new album’s direction. “People started dying,” Gibbons said of Lives Outgrown. “When you’re young, you never know the endings, you don’t know how it’s going to pan out. You think, ‘We’re going to get beyond this. It’s going to get better.’ Some endings are hard to digest… I realized what life was like with no hope, and that was a sadness I’d never felt. Before, I had the ability to change my future, but when you’re up against your body, you can’t make it do something it doesn’t want to do.”
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Despite the always-developing, understated sonic beauty of “Floating on a Moment,” one can’t help but sense the bleakness behind the baroque instrumentation. Especially with Gibbons’ thoughts on death and sadness in mind, softly sung lines about heading to nowhere and being too afraid to feel free reveal the song’s existential concerns. There is seemingly the slightest glimmer of optimism as the song fades out, with dreamy, child-like backing vocals and Sufjan Stevens-esque folk instrumentation supporting Gibbons as she sings, “All we have, is here and now.” And yet, it feels more like a defeated surrender than a defiant embrace of the present.
Of course, the punchline is how pretty the song sounds. Despite the darkness of the lyrics, the prancing baseline, glistening arpeggios, and Gibbons’ delicate performance are paradoxically comforting. Squint and you might find the song to be warm and uplifting. Look closer, though, and you’ll wonder how you ever thought things were okay.
— Jonah Krueger
Editorial Coordinator
