Robert Del Naja is having a horrible time. He's been arrested - but cleared - over allegations of internet paedophiliac images. Few critics have been nice to Massive Attack's fourth and non-groundbreaking album, 100th Window. Equally, the man's fighting battles on his own. Of the stellar collective that made 1991's epochal Blue Lines, Shara Nelson, Mushroom and Tricky are long gone, along with the guests who lit up 1994's smouldering Protection. Founder Daddy G (who didn't contribute to 100th Window) is back, but manages all of two songs. For all intents and purposes, Massive Attack now is Del Naja, who you suspect may have been abandoned for being too miserable.
Del Naja's presence - tense, twitchy and irritable - was always crucial to Massive, but worked when he had a foil. Now that the creative dynamic of Massive has disappeared (along with, it appears, the dance elements and tunes), Del Naja's glowering presence dominates 100th Window - and here, at this first Massive gig in years, even when he's not onstage (which, curiously, is not much of the time). It's like being subjected to one man's interminable sulk.
Del Naja's spirits have not been improved by the Iraq war, a serious subject given bewildering treatment. His solitary stage pronouncement is: "Two words - Operation Iraqi. What's it stand for?" which is actually eight but we'd best not upset him. There's some light relief in the visuals. An enormous computer screen flashes up "Liberation ... Iraq ... 4", stuff from internet chat rooms and little else of any interest. What does it all mean? A comment on information overload? Smoke less dope? Spend less time on the net?
Horace Andy appears for four songs but his hair has grown and his sweet vocals are distorted to the point that nobody recognises him. The reliably cheery Sinead O'Connor fares little better, but when Dot Allison purrs Teardrop (from 1998's Mezzanine), rays of sunlight burst through the sonic clouds. Finally, Del Naja remembers that he has an audience and a back catalogue. Safe From Harm - with Debbie Miller gloriously singing Nelson's lines - is explosive, and Mezzanine's Inertia Creeps packs an edgy punch. As computers flash names of local towns (a crowd-pleasing gesture, but it's nice to hear cheers) Del Naja consents to the classic Unfinished Sympathy. Still supernaturally sublime, it underlines Massive's need to regroup, revitalise and - come on, Robert - lighten up.
At Brixton Academy, London, Wednesday to Sunday. Details: 0870 771 2000.
