When bands go away for 10 years, they may as well not bother coming back. Apart from maybe a reunion gig where lots of now slightly-too-old people can gather round them and realise (probably falsely) that they didn’t miss out on much first time around.

Normally this is the case, anyway. Which is why it was with some trepidation that I listened to Third by Portishead. There was a lot of expectation here, and I was thinking that surely all of my high hopes were bound to be thwarted. But no. As well as making Dummy, one of my favourite albums, they also appear to have made a second album worthy of that title. And the self-titled album in between was none-too-shabby.

Third is a work of near perfection. Here’s a track-by-track breakdown:

Silence starts with some spoken word radio before ploughing into a sparse drumbeat with strings and bass. When Beth’s vocals eventually enter (and it takes a fair while) the backing pulls out and you remember exactly what made Portishead so wonderful, whilst also introducing you to the newer, bleaker, less electronic incarnation of the band. This is a proper introductory track, though, one that eases you back into their world. It builds with layers of strings, guitars and bass before cutting out abruptly and appropriately.

Hunter is more like classic Portishead. It has a slightly lounge-room feel as it starts, but breaks intermittently into vaguely disturbing rising and descending triplets that sound a little like if you heard them for too long you’d begin to go insane. But in small doses they break into the texture of the otherwise quite sleepy song making the experience rather disquieting. “I’ll stand on the edge of a broken sky / and I’m looking down, don’t know why /And if I should fall, would you hold me / would you pass me by?“sings Beth, setting out what becomes a regular theme of the album – the need for love and affection, and the potentially bad places we choose to look for them.

The drum beat on Nylon Smile makes this one of my favourite tracks on the album. That and the beautiful, intense vocal track and bleak lyrics. It’s an amazing track and a potential single like Roads or Glory Box. The chorus contains the lyric “Cos I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you / And I don’t know what I’ll do without you“  which could be a beautiful affirmation of parted love in a different song. In this track it sounds more like the pleadings of a woman suffering domestic violence.

The Rip starts very minimally with a stringed instrument (I can’t work out what it is, it’s somewhere between a guitar, a harp, a mandolin and a ukulele). This stark backing allows Beth’s voice to take centre stage, but then the backing grows before it takes over entirely sounding a cross between Vangelis and Kraftwerk.

Plastic contains the sound of a helicopter fading in and out throughout the track, reminding me a lot of the start of Apocalypse Now. It’s one of the more desolate tracks on a pretty desolate album.

Third is an album that’s not afraid to play around with time signatures, but nevertheless, it’s pretty rare to hear a song that’s in 2/2 in modern music like We Carry On. This timing gives the song its impetus, and when the guitar solo kicks in we have a moment that’s probably the first (but not the last) time that you could call the music uplifting. There are many other powerful moments on the album prior to this, but nothing that really seems to energise in the way this track does.

If I was to tell you that Deep Water is a Portishead song with a vocal track, a slightly doo-wop backing and a ukulele part and it’s also uplifting, you’d probably not believe me. But that is what it is. And it’s gorgeous. It gives you a little respite from the dark, and is like a little tiny gem in the middle of the album.

Machine Gun is already a Portishead classic. It lives up to its title by having a drumbeat that sounds like it’s been recorded in a war zone. You can hear it and see the video here. It’s the song that’ll be playing when the universe ends and has the second Vangelis-esque moment of the album towards its close. Beautiful.

Small is a song that makes you feel just that. Claustrophobic, disturbing and yet containing some surprisingly positive-sounding lyrics in places. It’s this juxtaposition that gives the song its strength and ability to play with your mind. That and an ending that seems to combine the shower scene of Psycho with a hotel lobby jazz band.

Magic Doors contains what I think must be one of the most beautiful and uplifting chord resolutions that I’ve ever heard. Certainly that I’ve ever heard in a Portishead song. Listen to the moment between the verse and the chorus and you’ll know when it comes in the form of the most transcendent piano chord you’ve ever heard. If this song doesn’t move you, you may be dead. Check with a doctor.

Threads is another more classic-sounding Portishead track. It has a rather Dummy-esque drum and strings backing before slapping you around the face with a bass-heavy chorus and eventually collapsing into the only ending this album could have. That of a siren blaring through your head.

This is, without a shadow of a doubt, the best album you will hear this year. It comes out on 28 April and you can preorder it on Amazon here. I strongly suggest you do.