Five albums in, it's finally stopped raining in Tindersticks' world. The moody English band's nicely cut raincoats are still damp, mind you, right through to their well-tailored suits. Cigarettes still burn and the whiskey still beckons. But the clouds have parted in places and a faint glimmer has broken through, manifesting itself in what sounds very much like an old soul record by way of Nottingham.

Tindersticks' swirling orchestra has been shuffled off to the back, and their trademark jumble of horns has been refined and given a lead role. Singer Stuart Staples even occasionally trades his usual mumble for a croon that, while it isn't exactly Marvin Gaye, does put a rather lusty spin on the disc's eight mid-paced tunes.

The resulting effort goes a bit heavy on the lethargy and lacks the depth and drama of the band's excellent first couple of albums. But it would still make an ideal make-out record for those who find

Leonard Cohen too damn perky.

Saturday, May 26, 2001

Tindersticks lighten up