Most people in bands don't stick together for 21 years in the business without having at least some carnage wreaked upon their lives. Tindersticks have reached that milestone this year, albeit with a lengthy hiatus behind them and a few ex-members tossed to the roadside along the way. Such drama, if it can be called that, is perfectly fitting for this band, who seemed to arrive with a weight of experience on their shoulders after forming from the ashes of Asphalt Ribbons in the early 1990s. On their earliest singles Tindersticks were a mesh of low production values and awkward transitions, while their vision for the band was strung somewhere between the underground and the orchestra pit. It's a feeling that remains intact despite higher production values and work with actual orchestras. There's an awkwardness to Tindersticks' confessionals that make their songs deeply personal despite the grander scope they sometimes operate within.
This album, a series of reworkings of previously recorded tracks, plus a couple of solo compositions by singer Stuart Staples, skips the earliest period of the band altogether. None of those nascent singles feature, nothing from their imperious first album is picked over—if this is a birthday celebration, it's one that quietly slips the yellowing baby pictures into a bottom drawer. The overhauls are light, for the most part. Sometimes there's a touch of confidence in Staples' vocal that wasn't there before, or a horn part replaces a string section. The presence of multi-instrumentalist Dickon Hinchliffe is missed, as it has been since the lineup change in late 2006, but sometime collaborator Terry Edwards makes a more than capable replacement, scattering trumpet and saxaphone over a handful of songs to bring out an extra dimension or two.
Tindersticks suffered from being so fully formed on their inception, making a debut album that continues to tower over most of their output. Their "imperial phase" (to borrow a Neil Tennant-ism) continued through their second record, taking in highlights that included a couple of superior live albums. Things begin to taper off after that, only recovering on the surprise return to form with last year's The Something Rain. The earliest work featured here is from their second record, the highlight of which is a subtly tweaked "Sleepy Song" that maintains the original's cacophonic bloodrush of instrumentation in its final third. Tindersticks often face Nick Cave comparisons, but the gloomy bedsit pining of a song like "A Night In" highlights a contrast between the two. Cave may have been cheated by love, but he's also cocksure and successful at it. Staples is all crumpled suits and apprehension, consigned to his fate instead of rising above it.
What's most interesting about Tindersticks' career arc is how they retain their sense of vulnerability throughout. Even a track like "Say Goodbye to the City", originally from 2003's Waiting for the Moon, has the air of someone spilling a cheap cup of tea over a moth-eaten Ennio Morricone sleeve as they attempt to emulate him in a gloomy North London practice space. There's a touch more swagger to this version, but Staples hasn't lost the frailty in his voice. This is a band that appropriated popular paintings found in U.K. thrift stores for their earliest record covers, and there's still an aspect of that mindset at work, a feeling of rummaging through borrowed memories and once treasured artefacts. No matter how big they aim there's always a remnant of their origin story tugging at their sleeve, bringing them back to Mike Leigh territory even when they’re reaching for Leone.
For Across Six Leap Years Tindersticks convened in Abbey Road, along with a host of guest musicians. There's a little extra room in the sound, giving keyboard player David Boulter, always the most dapper member of the band, a chance to shine. The subtle chime of his Rhodes playing beautifully underpins the band's second stab at Odyssey's "If You're Looking for a Way Out", while tingling dual piano motifs on "What Are You Fighting For?" help lift an otherwise by-the-numbers Tindersticks tune. If there's a criticism here it's in the way these songs don't stray far from the original pieces, instead working as tasteful updates that add a dab of cohesion that was never needed in the first place. It's a treat for fans, which is really all a project like this is ever going to be. But it also highlights a continuity in their work, where Staples' small, sad stories don't usually end up in a better place, or any place other than where their protagonist started out. Instead, Tindersticks simply grapple with how it is to be.
