New material of any note is worth sitting up for, but Different When It’s Silent is his first album released under his own name since 2020. There have been collaborations and side projects in the proceeding years; here, though, is the real deal. A full length record of, one would imagine, pure, unadulterated Tricky.
Therein lies this issue with this record. To paraphrase Lunchlady Doris, there’s very little Tricky on this Tricky album. As a vocalist, he’s never been what you’d call a force of nature. Even in his younger days he wasn’t prone to demonstrative performances on the mic, and thirty years of living a life hasn’t given his vocal cords extra oomph. But the extent to which he’s backgrounded on an ostensible solo album isn’t ideal for the fans. Duets have always been part of his game, most notably with Martina Topley-Bird, but instead of dovetailing with a contrasting voice, he’s often buried by new collaborator Mitch Sanders. The fellow Bristolian has a versatile, strong voice, and you’re going to be hearing a lot of it here.
Frustratingly, Tricky is working with some of the best instrumentals of his career. There’s a 90s throwback element at play, not so much to his trip-hop routes but to the avant-pop that Brian Eno was forcing the likes of U2 to make. “Be Still In Your Pain” has a buzzing bassline worthy of a Mission: Impossible OST, while “Cannon Fodder” is built around a ghostly organ and the occasional squall of guitar, played with Johnny Greenwood-style frustration. It’s the kind of heartworn, spectral melody on which Tricky could do great work, but good luck hearing him under the incessant falsetto from Sanders. For long stretches, the named artist doesn’t even bother singing – what’s the point?
It’s not as though those involved don’t know how to deploy his unique vocals, either. He haunts opener “I Still See Me There”, squeezing out his lines with phantom menace. He attacks the vibrant “I’m Yours” with something not a million miles from gusto, turning the hook “I’m yours / You’re mine” from tender to terrifying. And on closer “Out Of Place”, he pulls out the old Tricky, grinding through verses alongside – crucially – a different collaborator, Marta Złakowska. It’s the closest we get to playing the hits, the Maxinquaye-era crowd pleasers, and fair play to the man for avoiding the nostalgia act. Hopefully Tricky doesn’t wait so long to give us something new – perhaps he’ll turn up to mumble all over Mitch’s debut LP.
