Tindersticks are a band, and I'll make no bones about it, that I should have explored much earlier in my life. So I shan't try and dress up the fact that I accepted the tickets from DiS as a bit of an educated punt – obviously I knew that Tindersticks are famous miserablists and I did my research (on YouTube, soz), so I felt reasonably qualified to take an entirely objective, non-40-year-old-fanboy-living-on-his-own-mostly-drinking-on-weekdays sort of fashion. So yes, what you'll read is high on simple opinion, and low on direct reference to the band's apparently difficult past (for more on that, I'd shuffle over to DiS's interview with main man Stuart Staples).
When a band has serious instrumental augmentation like Tindersticks do this evening, there's a sure-fire industry standard to let your audience know that's what you're doing – have them shuffle on a couple at a time and have them add slowly to an instrumental piece. That’s exactly what happens, and the spooked 'Introduction' begins a complete playing of their new record, The Hungry Saw. The majority of this, it must be said, is fantastic. The nag of the lyric and the sag of the strings in 'Yesterday's Tomorrow' is excellently judged, the ascending string passages rocketing to their peaks in perfect dynamic thrust, and the near whisper of 'Come Feel The Sun' sees Staples almost physically writhing in hushed intensity.
The use of theatre as both a building (we're in one, yep?) and concept is judged phenomenally well. Attention is drawn with lushly coloured bulbs, a spotlight goes around Staples only once or twice at the most importantly intimate moments, and the lights are sprung up suddenly at an instrumental upsurge to the point where all assembled must've felt like they'd been born. The power of sax 'n' horn, keeping Motown dramatic, simple tricks executed brilliantly. The worst aspect of the evening, as it often is during seated affairs, is that the audience just have no respect at all for the artists. I don't mean that they're not fans and they're not interested, but because of the nature of the venue, one must adapt the way in which the evening is digested. The London Symphony Orchestra probably wouldn't have appreciated the occasional “we LOVE you Valery!” as Gergiev approaches the plinth, nor would they expect people to rabbit incessantly throughout the adagios, and they certainly wouldn't react well to people coming and going with armfuls of pints, causing as much visual interruption to the audience as possible… but that’s beside the point.
'Boobar Come Back To Me' is the night's highlight, undoubtedly, complete with hilariously reluctant backing vocals from one trombonist, but with the sparkle of Brian Wilson's lightest sing-alongs. Call and response vocals are not too cheesy for Tindersticks, oh no, so much so that an uneducated observer such as this might argue that the band have lightened in approach of late. It makes for a thrilling contrast with the quieter moments that, when laid next to the deft of touch, cause necks to crane and ears to prickle. Two very well received encores end the evening on a slightly tiring note for a newcomer, leaving the impression that any more notes played this evening would be surplus to requirement, but on the whole it's impossible not to be impressed and slightly moved.
Photo: Richard Dumas
