Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 05/05/08
Label: Beggars Banquet

It's a tightrope Tindersticks tread. On the one hand the Nottingham outfit have created some bloody gut-wrenching and solipsistic music. So much so that one would be hard pushed to accuse them of not being able to walk the walk. It's certainly the kind of music that has the ability to render you an emotional wreck for the rest of the day, if not week. On the other hand, their sound has stuck so faithfully to their self-titled 1993 debut that they're in danger of falling from that rope and off the musical radar for ever. It is by no means dull, just tried and tested.

Of course there have been subtle variations to their sound over the years - a raucous guitar riff here, a theatrical string arrangement there - but it's safe to say if you're looking for dishevelled romanticism, Tindersticks are an excellent starting point. And so it is with "The Hungry Saw", the band's seventh studio album. Fragility, emotional despondency and cinematic soundscapes are all very much present on this record. It contains the same bitter-sweet tenderness as is found on 1997's "Curtains" - but in place of the melodrama, "The Hungry Saw" is a far gentler proposition in its delivery and temperament - possibly the result of the band's five-year absence since the release of 2003's "Waiting For The Moon".

From the softly, softly approach of opening instrumental snippet "Intro", to the jingle jangle of "The Flicker Of A Little Girl", there is a glimmer of optimism here that detracts from the miserablism that Tindersticks are sometimes associated with. "E-Type" conjures up images of "The Wicker Man" and Britt Ekland's crazy dance moves, as guest vocalist Suzanne Osborne's beguiling vocals wail with an eerie mournfulness. But there are still nods towards the desolation that has characterised many Tindersticks songs of yore. "Mother Dear" is a case in point with its sparse woefulness.

What will draw fans old and new to this record, however, is the melancholia of Tindersticks frontman Stuart Staples' vocals, which become especially poignant on the forlorn "Other Side Of The World". His voice possesses the smooth, broodiness of Scott Walker and Serge Gainsbourg. Lyrically, he has the knack of altering between the twisted ramblings of a mad man in the vein of Nick Cave and the aching sentiment of Leonard Cohen. It's the kind of voice that has the power to reel you in, utterly captivated, and is probably the reason many are still drawn to this band today.

    by Ash Dosanjh