What better way to signify the return-to-form of eclectic Nottingham art-pop ensemble Tindersticks than to kick off their ninth proper studio set—marking the first release of their career's third decade—with "Chocolate," a spoken-word showcase from one of the band's few remaining original members, David Boulter? Tindersticks have gone through a few lineup kerfuffles since their classic 1993 debut, but the most recent one (around 2003) resulted in a stripping down of their sound that's resulted in some of the group’s most frustratingly lackluster output. Meanwhile, lounge lizard leading man Stuart Staples has been refining his work as a soundtrack artist for the great French filmmaker Claire Denis—chronicled to great success on last year's essential compilation, Claire Denis Film Scores (1996-2009)—and it turns out that work's low-key ambiance most informs the lush midnight-hour vibe of The Something Rain.

If Falling Down a Mountain, Tinderstsicks' last studio LP, taught Staples anything, it was that his band are at their best on record when they function like a band, not the solo bedroom project of a mopey Morrissey disciple. Rain takes that to heart from the jump, with "Chocolate" immediately harkening back to the group's salad days of methodically mounting chamber-pop, only this time Boulter takes on the narrator roll once often filled by Staples (on droll discography highlights like "My Sister" and "Cherry Blossoms"). Boulter's vocal presence comes as a shock: Another male hasn't taken lead on the mic since violinist Dickon Hinchliffe left following the band's underrated 2004 album, Waiting for the Moon. Because since that time, it's really been the Stuart Staples show, with the prolific frontman claiming close to sole authorship of both 2010's Falling Down a Mountain and 2008's dud The Hungry Saw (give or take a few instrumentals credited to Boulter, and one given to second-gen. bass player Dan McKinna).

On The Something Rain, Staples has a solo credit on only three of the album's nine tracks, a clear signifier that this is a collaborative effort the likes of which we haven't seen from Tindersticks in close to a decade. And if this all sounds like silly statistics, be assured the change as audible too, with swaggering soul-belters like "This Fire of Autumn" and the Caribbean-influenced (remember when they used to do that?) "Slippin' Shoes" popping out of the speakers like nothing this group's recorded in ages, save for maybe the deceptively bold, free-jazzy lead-off track from Falling Down a Mountain. You have to wade through a couple understated pieces at the top of the new album to get to the more juiced-up and soulful struts that follow, but even these slow ones come infused with a compositional sense the band's recent output just hasn't been able to boast. The first two songs' dense arrangements (particularly the power-chords and Rhodes piano on "Show Me Everything") lend weight to their purposeful, lengthy builds.

The really worthwhile material, though, lurks on The Something Rain's slinky, sprawling second side, which also gives Tindersticks' lengthy list of session musicians a welcome workout. Lead single "Medicine" offers up one of Staples's most expressive vocals, his sickly, mantra-like delivery a perfect fit for the death-haunted lyrics. "It's medicine you want/It's medicine you need," the singer all-but-whispers, leaning into his trademark staccato whine, and the arrangement really cooks too, with seedy sound effects worming their way around eerie strains of saxophone and cello from part-timers Terry Edwards and Andy Nice, respectively. The piece carries quite a bit of the moody, pensive melancholia that resonated in Staples's brilliantly minimalist score for Denis's vampire-sex cautionary tale "Trouble Every Day," albeit fuller, structured like the mini-symphonies these guys once packaged in bulk.

This all amounts to a supremely satisfying set after a decade of diminishing returns from Staples and crew, reaffirming the band's status as being just about the best at whatever it is you want to call what they do. ("Chamber-pop" was never really inclusive enough, was it?) The "gradual rebuilding" they themselves have said has been taking place finally seems in full effect, and one hopes their sound only keeps getting bigger and more bold from here. Because, as rich and accomplished as the music on The Something Rain is, it never musters the scope of Tindersticks' early run of records—especially the two self-titled double-LPs they put out in '93 and '95. Despite that fact, this is their most substantial set in a while, and it should give Tindersticks the confidence to test their mettle on another double, which signs say would just slay.

Review by:
Sam C. Mac