Something of a small, unnoticed classic, arriving late in 2019, was Tindersticks latest album, No Treasure But Hope, their first since 2016. They're one of those bands that surprise you that they're still together, so mired are they in memories of the Nineties, the decade in which they first emerged.
They're not a band whose sound ever changes, merely thickens, Dark, slow, melancholy, the most glass half empty of outfits. Rented rooms, damp, bleak accommodation, rain pattering on window panes, cigarette dog ends in teetering ashtrays. The sound of a human heart being broken again and again until the end of time. The ace in their pack has always been their masterful, baroque, orchestral arrangements of the songs which smother their depresso anthems in an undeniable, redeeming beauty.
So, No Treasure But Hope adds another volume of miserable consolation to their shelf. They don't really say anything new here, but anyone who has ever appreciated what they've done before will appreciate this. The debut album remains the one you really need as they were fully formed from the off, but this does their legacy proud. A suite of quite excellent songs. Something for the fan of Scott Walker, Jacques Brel, Albert Camus, Patrick Hamilton, Graham Greene. Film Noir and Kitchen Sink Sixties Cinema in your life. Might even cheer them up a bit!
No comments:
Post a Comment