Massive Attack, Apollo, Manchester

In 1991, Massive Attack were the most important band in Britain. With their debut Blue Lines, the Bristol collective changed the face of modern music, bringing passion, intelligence and originality to their art. Twelve years and four albums later, Massive Attack is an altogether different beast. Huge choruses and languid beats have been replaced by sinister basslines and bleak percussive rumbling.

Once an ever-changing cast of characters including Tricky, Shara Nelson and Mushroom, Massive Attack appears to be more of a one-man show and that one man, Robert Del Naja aka 3D, just happens to be having the worst year of his life. The critical mauling given to Massive Attack's latest LP 100th Window two months ago was doubtless nothing next to the nightmare that came with being arrested as part of the Operation Ore police investigation into child pornography on the internet. The inquiry into Del Naja was later dropped.

So it goes without saying that tonight's show isn't exactly a laugh a minute. The punters want a greatest hits set but Massive Attack have never been about pleasing crowds. Instead we are treated to the sprawling dirges that make up 100th Window. Narcotic bass grooves are overlaid with skittering drum machines and 3D's strangulated singing. "Future Proof" and "Butterfly Caught" rumble away like an ailing car engine, almost roaring into life before slumping back into a subdued growl. Even the arrival of 3D's latest muse Sinead O'Connor for "What Your Soul Sings" doesn't help matters. Her vocals seem foggy and distant while her insistence on standing at the side of the stage – a quick escape route, perhaps? – make it easy to forget she's there at all.

Daddy G, who bowed out of recording duties during 100th Window, sings on just two songs, while Horace Andy's voice is rendered almost inaudible amid the general drone. All the while a screen flashes up endless data, from shares prices and chatroom transcripts to place-names and plane timetables. The urge to go to sleep is overwhelming.

With the set built largely around 100th Window and 1998's Mezzanine, the tempo barely picks up all night. Songs from Mezzazine, sung here by Dot Allison, do at least create a semblance of atmosphere. It's only when Debbie Miller arrives to sing "Unfinished Sympathy" from Blue Lines, that the crowd seem to wake from their slumber. But it's too little too late. Maybe 3D should have called it a day after Mezzanine or maybe he should just cheer up. Either way, the feeling now is less of a band forging forward than standing still.

Massive Attack play Brixton Academy, London SW9 (0870 160 0100) till Sunday