Tindersticks
Can Our Love...
[Beggars Banquet]
Rating: 8.1
I'd like to begin this review by congratulating Tindersticks on making it for
over a decade with the same six members. Most bands don't even make it the
full ten years, much less with all members intact. I've been trying to think
of other bands who have done it and after a few minutes of staring around at
my record collection, Fugazi, Radiohead, and REM are the only names I've come
up with, and even REM doesn't have Bill Berry anymore.
Aside from those, you have revolving doors like Yes and Fleetwood Mac, both
of whom have had over twenty members over the years, and short-lived outfits
like the Sex Pistols, who couldn't stay together long enough to complete
their first US tour. So, it's a testament to the strength of the band that
Tindersticks are still at it after all these years, democratically crafting
some of the best music in Britain. And it's equally impressive that their
quality has hardly suffered at all in the process.
The music of Tindersticks has changed a lot in the last few years, absorbing
70's soul into their signature gutter ballads, and dropping the "melo" prefix
from the drama. Gone are the 70 minute-plus double-albums and ear-rattling
dissonance that characterized their early music, replaced instead by concise,
slow-core R&B; with an inky black center. Still, it would impossible to
mistake this for any other band, and old fans will likely be delighted with
what they hear.
The opener, "Dying Slowly," is the most direct musical link to the band's
past, recalling the string-drenched pining of their third album, Curtains.
Stuart Staples' murky baritone calls out the refrain, "This dying slowly/
It seemed better than shooting myself," with characteristic exhaustion. The
strings swell and subside like the conversation in a crowded bar. It's an
elegant introduction to an album that finds Tindersticks further embracing
the soul influences they first toyed with on 1999's Simple Pleasure.
A case in point is the title track, a bubbling stew of wah-wah guitars,
Hammond organ and passionate vocals that plays like Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get
It On" at half-speed, only with Here, My Dear sentiments in the lyrics.
Even after all this time, Stuart Staples can't seem to win at the game of
love.
"Sweet Release," the album's eight-minute centerpiece, follows, displaying
the band's uncanny ability to play an extremely long song and make it feel
too short. Dickon Hinchliffe's violin swirls around Staples' molasses-thick
vocal and David Boulter's gorgeous organ lines, as the twelve-member string
section comments from the wings. It makes for a song that easily lives up
to its title.
Part of what makes Tindersticks so easy to connect to is the way they manage
to make even the most minute suffering and pain seem universal. When Staples
sighs, he's sighing with you, and when he says "I," it could be anybody who's
ever been through a messy breakup or felt the sting of rejection. And that's
why his plea of "Don't ever get tired of waiting for me" on "Don't Ever Get
Tired" hits a nerve-- everyone needs someone they can depend on, and Staples
just wants it to be the woman he loves.
"People Keep Comin' Around," a duet between Staples and Hinchliffe, offers
perhaps a little insight into why Tindersticks have been able to last so
long-- all six members are genuinely unselfish musicians. Bassist Mark
Colwill and drummer Alasdair Macaulay lay down a relaxed but funky groove as
Boulter and guitarist Neil Fraser lay back, playing only when necessary.
Hinchliffe's higher octave is animated, but never hogs the spotlight, letting
the band ride the groove, while Hinchliffe's rich string and horn arrangements
fill in the gaps. It's telling that the band offers equal billing to the
string and horn players in the album credits, acknowledging their
contributions as equal to the end result.
In fact, the only faltering point on the entire album actually comes when
Staples strikes out on his own for the puzzling "Tricklin'," a two-minute
vocal round with minimalist organ accompaniment that doesn't really serve as
much more than filler. But when the whole band is engaged, the results are
frequently stunning, and always engaging.
The final twist on Can Our Love... comes with the closer, "Chilitetime,"
where, for once, hope seems to be the order of the day. "She has my love/
She needs something more/ But time is mine," Staples sings as Hinchliffe's
violin cries out behind him. And that's where the ellipsis in the album
title comes in, I think. It leaves the thought "Can our love..." incomplete
and allows you draw your own conclusions. While things are definitely bad,
there may yet be a way out.
Despite the open-ended nature of its sentiments, "Chilitetime" pulls the
album to a strong close, effectively capping this latest journey through the
dark folds of the brain and the heart. At 45 minutes, Can Our Love...
is Tindersticks' most concise album yet, and it sacrifices nothing in content.
Eight songs may not seem like much for a full album, but it's all this band
needs to make a fully rewarding listen that only gets richer the more you
visit.
-Joe Tangari