May I recommend the Friday afternoon service at St. Michael's Cathedral when the St. Mike's Boys Choir are in full flight?

Regardless of your religious denomination, or lack of, the boys' pure heavenly voices have a way of lifting the soul and making you grateful to be alive.

So what's this got to do with Portishead, yet another extremely overrated British band, who subdued the masses at a church last night?

Lots.

Unlike the aformentioned mass at St. Michael's, the group's highly anticipated show at Trinity-St. Paul's dulled my senses and left me in a Portishead state of mind.

(Think of their music as a soundtrack to life in the sleepy retirement town near Bristol, England, they christened themselves after.)

Depression set in early when the six-member group set a pattern that boasted a sameness of epic proportions.

Think four beats on one chord and four beats on another.

Complement this with hip-hop "scratching" courtesy of head Portishead Geoff Barrow.

Throw in atmospheric sounds sculpted by organist John Baggot, ominous lines from stand-up bassist Jim Barr, and bluesy riffs from guitarist Adrian Utley.

You're thinking Twin Peaks, aren't you?

If you haven't drifted off yet, couple these moody soundscapes people are calling trip-hop (!) with the stark fragile voice of Beth Gibbons.

Smoking a cigarette and hanging on to the microphone stand for dear life, Gibbons wowed the faithful lounging in the pews with her desperate, tortured vocals.

It's an instrument she employs effectively to convey deeply personal lyrics like: "This salvation I desire keeps getting me down." ; "Gonna give my heart away, give it to the girls to play. Give me a reason to love you."; or, "I got nobody on my side and surely that ain't right."

Here's where Gibbons was proven wrong.

The crowd hooted and hollered for close to 10 minutes after Portishead left the stage 40 minutes after taking it.

Of course they returned.

After all, the hit single, Sour Times, hadn't been churned out yet and the reluctant rock stars offered us a slowed-down version of it.

But what's this?

As if possessed by some force, Gibbons and company suddenly began rocking out.

She wailed the lyrics while the drums, guitar and "scratching" went into overdrive.

For those who still needed a picker-upper after that, Portishead coffee mugs were being sold for $12 at the door.

JAM! Rating: 2 out of 5