Tindersticks – Distractions
City Slang – 19 February 2021
The announcement of this new Tindersticks album came as a delight to many following the disappointment of their tour date cancellations and the rescheduling of their London Royal Festival Hall show to May next year. It was also an added delight to see an invigorated sense of purpose, new colours added to their palette. Sometimes unfairly maligned as maudlin and morose, this massively underserves them and needs dismissing forthwith. Furthermore, the progressions and additions to their idiosyncratic style are continuing to flower in exotic and unexpected directions.
The days of the large and multi-faceted band of the 1990s are long gone, and they are down to a central core of Stuart Staples’ lugubrious vocal majesty, Neil Fraser on guitars, Dave Boulter on, principally, keyboards, the other musicians here being Dan McKinna and Earl Harvin on bass and drums respectively. Sometime member, guitarist, David Kitt also appears. Whilst there is a string quartet, much of the embellishment, where there is any, is from mellotron and synthesiser. Likewise, their traditionally broad sweep of lush orchestration has been switched to a more vibrant dynamic, an increasingly ‘live in the studio’ ambience that hints at an eye on improvisation, rather than the densely rehearsed overtures that made their name. All this works to the good, and, whilst moving waywardly in this direction since the band regrouped in 2006/7, this record sends out a number of surprising tendrils, simultaneously and in opposing directions, begging the question as to which and how many will they choose to follow.
Opener ‘Man Alone (Can’t Stop the Fadin’)’, epitomises this, kicking off with pulsing bass and a motorik drumbeat, over which Staples briefly moans wordlessly. The track then gradually builds, with a minimalistic vocal melody, Staples double and sometimes triple tracked on himself, repetitive motifs, chanting the bracketed phrase. Outwardly sounds, electronic traffic noises, then break in, and an overall sense of controlled hysteria is the mood, waxing and waning, the pulse a constant over eleven minutes. An extraordinary start that near makes the recording essential already, as the ‘sticks go kosmisch’.
Rather than any momentum being sustained, the impetus then drops to nil, the slightest of tunes playing over a backdrop of musical saw, a suspended animation with Staples alternating between spoken word and singing, a familiar tone poem atmospheric, a style well known to lovers of this band. The singer himself describes it, perfectly, as “a song from down the back of the sofa, losing a sense of connectivity with the world.” Entitled ‘I Imagine You’, it is almost imaginary, and allows the mind to wander.
Cover versions have often been part of Tindersticks repertoire, and there are three here, the first being a stunning version of Neil Young’s ‘A Man Needs A Maid’, one of Shakey’s mawkier offerings. But this is nothing short of alchemy, taking a few moments to make itself known as the same song, an almost trip-hop arrangement stripping it back, the melancholy of Staples’ delivery showstopping, aching harmony vocals provided by Gina Foster. The song has been in their live repertoire awhile, but never sounding quite so gaunt.
The second cover is a Dory Previn song, ‘The Lady With a Braid’, which steps the pace a little, with a tune reminiscent of ‘The Ballad of Lucy Jordan’, something I couldn’t recall from the original, a piece of Laurel Canyon whimsy I had near forgotten. The most conventionally presented song here, it acts a necessary palate cleanser after the emotional wrench thus far. And did I mention a wonderful bass solo towards the end?
Which is no preparation for the third and final cover, an impassioned working of ‘You’ll Have To Scream Louder’, originally by agit-punks the Television Personalities. The angry lyric sounds more menacing and threatening than in the more frantic original, with Staples’ hushed rage quite chilling. Incidentally, this would be a good track to play to any nay-sayer, his voice positively Ferry-esque, which, allied to the OMD style drum machine, should open any heart to his marmite timbre.
But probably skip the next one to those same sceptics, ‘Tue-Moi’ perhaps as close to the cliché as anything here. Me, I love it, but solemn piano and being sung in French, might stretch the exposure. A lament around the Bataclan massacre in Paris, it moves me in ways beyond my grasp of the language.
Closer, ‘The Bough Bends’, is the yang to the krautrock yin of the opener, introduced by birdsong and Staples’ metronomic panting. A mellotron plays a flute melody, and the song starts, spoken words that may or not be commenting on the process of committing music to record. Mindful of avoiding comparisons, I found myself here thinking of Jackie Leven. As different as can be from the first track, this acts as a perfect bookending to the project, another near ten-minute track, the texture gradually building, a hypnotic repetition that constantly changes, found sounds and extruded voices bleeding in and out, over the delicate whisper of Staples’ exquisite fragility. A beautiful song.
Are this band getting better and better? On this evidence, the answer is yes. A mesmerising listen that demands repeated immersion: like a gently deceptive theme park ride, as you climb off at the end, so you are compelled to run around again to the start.
Pre-Order via Bandcamp: https://tindersticks.bandcamp.com/