Tindersticks
Curtains
[FFRR/London]
Rating: 8.8
In a saloon in Big Tuna, Texas, sits a lone, sagging gentleman at 1:45 in
the afternoon. His wife has stolen his car and wallet, and left him with a
note saying goodbye and a $20 bill. He drinks another beer, stubs out a
Marlboro, and the music playing inside his head must surely be
Tindersticks. And the molasses-voice of his sorrow must surely be that of
Stuart Staples. Is that the clock ticking or a dry hi-hat?
Curtains is posessed of that Tindersticks stamp that makes them a love/hate
band, either you love their sorrow, their string arrangements, Staples'
coal-deep mutter-moan, or, you simply detest them as Leonard
Cohen sound-alikes. Curtains lumbers along, letting long crescendos build,
beginning with restrained and minimal avant-jazz, building into dizzying
and climactic cacophonies of strings. More experimental and intense than
their previous release, Curtains comes in from the shadows and joins the
conversation.
-James P. Wisdom