Tindersticks

Went to see Tindersticks at the 9:30 club Thursday night. My friend C.S., who originally introduced me to the band a few years ago, came up with the idea. I can’t say I was a huge fan before – C.S. burned some CDs for me, a couple of compilations of what he thought were the best songs – and I enjoyed listening to them now and then, but I never took the time to learn more about the band or explore other recordings. So I didn’t actually have a burning desire to go on Thursday, but I’m sure glad I did; the concert proved to be excellent.

Tindersticks are virtually unknown in the US. They got a lot of critical acclaim for their early records in the mid- and late-1990s, but it remained confined largely to the UK. They went on a hiatus over the last couple of years, but did release a new record in 2008, which is what prompted this tour, mostly around Europe with a few dates in the US.

What drew me to the band originally was their sound – far more distinctive than just about all of their contemporaries, not that I really have a good idea of what those sound like, not having followed the British rock and pop scene in any meaningful way since Catherine Wheel and Ride in the early nineties. First, there is lead singer Stuart Staples’ baritone – deep, clear, and far lower-pitched than a typical, or even an atypical, rock singer, it has some Jim Morrison in it, maybe a little Steve Kilbey of the Church, but is really all his own. Occasionally, Staples sings falsetto, but because his voice is so low to begin with, the falsetto takes on an immediately recognizable quality. His voice draws you in instantly – I remember getting into C.S.’s car one night several years ago and hearing it on the car stereo. My reaction was, “who is THIS?”

Then there is the band itself. I stand by my claim that nothing in rock and pop is ever truly original, but a few bands do come closer than the rest once in a great while, and Tindersticks definitely fall into that category. I guess they’ve absorbed so many influences, and digested them so thoroughly, that something approaching uniqueness emerged. There is some lounge in there, a little progressive pretense, some folksy songwriting, all sprinkled with just a dash of sixties’ psychedelia and postmodern jam-band sound. In addition to traditional rock instruments, played with admirable restraint I should point out, the band frequently uses a vibraphone, strings and a variety of horns, though they rarely get truly orchestral. Above all, their sound is beautifully clear – Tindersticks are the anti-noise, anti-Radiohead wing of British rock.

The most amazing thing was that all of this came across when they played live. They sounded phenomenal on stage. They were never loud or bombastic. Every instrument, and Staples’ voice, was crystal-clear. They played, I am shocked to say, with something I did not think was possible in rock – taste. The acoustic instruments were there, too – the keyboardist doubled on vibraphone and another high-pitched tuned percussion instrument I couldn’t quite see – some sort of miniature glockenspiel perhaps – and a trumpeter, a saxophonist (baritone!) and a cellist occupied stage right, appearing and disappearing as the tunes required.

The entire concert was a brand-new experience for me. I did not recognize a single tune. But that is perhaps the greatest testament to the show’s success – I was drawn in instantly and stayed focused the entire time. It was almost like going back to the days before recording existed, when listening to music at all meant listening live. Not all songs were great as songs – in fact, some were quite monotonous when stripped of their arrangements, but of course the arrangements were an integral part, and if nothing else, Staples’ voice kept me listening. They played a few instrumentals, something they are known for, and those sounded good as well, though for once, I wish the instrumentalists soloed more, especially the horns. The trumpeter took a couple of solos, but the sax player, who turned out to be the fairly well-known Terry Edwards, stuck mostly to playing counterpoint to the rest of the band, and the cellist’s job, aside from a beautifully minimalist, Steve Reich-like intro, was to provide color.

I did wonder about the economics of the concert. There were eight musicians on stage, plus roadies, but the tickets were only $25, a bargain in this day and age, and the club, admittedly fairly large, was maybe one-third full. 250 people at the most, by my very imprecise estimate. The audience was refreshingly tame and polite, clapping enthusiastically, and letting out a few quiet whistles between songs, but otherwise listening attentively. The whole thing had kind of an MTV Unplugged air about it. The concession stand, in another pleasant surprise, was selling the new record on LP, as well as colored vinyl 7-inch of one of Terry Edwards' side projects, which turned out to be a revival of the eighties ska band Department S. I bought both, but have not heard either yet, my turntable being in need of some attention.

Anyway, great show. Very un-rock-n-roll, and that’s precisely why I enjoyed it so much.