Review by Sam C. Mac: Pitchfork's Joe Tangari began his review of the excellent Can Our Love… by congratulating Tindersticks on "making it for over a decade with the same six members." That was back in 2001, following their unimpeachable string of 90s records. The band would subsequently release another great album in 2003 (Waiting for the Moon) before going on an extended hiatus, then returning in 2006 to play a one-off show in their native England. Around this time, many were already suggesting this might be a gesture of parting long before lead singer Stuart Staples confirmed as much. But it wasn't farewell, really, and perhaps Staples knew this. (His choice of words? "The six of us had made all the music we were going to make together.") Instead, Tindersticks dropped half their lineup and released their first album in five years. That comeback record, 2008's The Hungry Saw, retains much of the band's signature smokey, orchestra-heavy jazz vibe, but it noticeably struggles to find sonic terra firma in the absence of one Dickon Hinchliffe, perhaps the man most responsible for the band's sound. Between 1993 (when they released their classic self-titled debut) and 2003 (the year of their last album as a sextet) Tindersticks’ output maintained a level of quality that weathers comparison to that of any band. As such, at the time of Hungry Saw's release,  I sort of wished Staples had retired the name with the departure of his bandmates.

Thankfully, Falling Down a Mountain, the band's eighth studio album (excluding soundtracks) does in some sense rekindle a bit of the synergy which seemed to elude Staples on his first outing with the truncated lineup. At the very least, the album hints at a brighter Tindersticks future. In particular, the title track is a churning storm of an opener, most exciting for its uniqueness in the Tindersticks catalogue. The song barrels through its six-minute runtime with aggressive force, swirling around incantatory, endlessly repeated phrases and a loose-cannon sax that zigs when it should probably zag, etc. (It's been said the poor guy had to come up with his contribution without any knowledge of how the rest of the song sounds, and this bold move pays off with thrilling spontaneity.) Unfortunately, the track also serves as a stinging reminder that Mountain reaches its imposing peak on track one. This is uncharacteristic of your average Tindersticks effort, which often suggests you sit through a minimal piano intro or low-key ballad before exploding with typical melodramatic vigor (usually on track two). Instead, the purposeful opening salvo here is followed by "Keep You Beautiful," akin to a less dynamic take on Simple Pleasure's "If She's Torn." The song—a stripped-down, un-complex and syrupy ballad—never really goes anywhere, and is unfortunately representative of much of this record. "Factory Girls" is likewise pretty but slight, as is the perplexing, waltz-time "Peanuts," a duet with, of all people, Mary Margaret O'Hara, a seldom heard Canadian singer who features on this silly ode to the salty snack for reasons unknown.

Blessedly, we're afforded a few more notable highlights as well. The clippity-clopping "Black Smoke" is heavy on the low-end, replete with driving, spiky bass riffs, the violent cry of a violin and Staples's unmistakable croon—for once cloaked in a thick filter—adding much needed verve to the back side of Mountain. The peppy backing vocals which colored Tindersticks' rich soul-leaning period make an appearance, too, manifesting in a crowded chorus of "la la las" on the mostly enjoyable "Harmony Around My Table," which centers on the weird turn of phrase "found a penny, picked it up; all that day I had good luck." (Whatever you say, Stuart.) Another strange but indelible keeper comes in the form of "Piano Music" (not to be confused with "Piano Song," off Tindersticks' debut), the album's instrumental closer, which will likely mean more to those with a particular affinity for Staples's awesome soundtrack work (which is to say basically anything he's done for Claire Denis in the last ten years). It's these sporadic but significant standouts that help Falling Down a Mountain gather enough momentum to leave some kind of impact. But when Staples sings (all too joyfully) about finding "harmony around [his] table," this domestic harmony he seems so sure of—having settled into life with this new incarnation of his nearly two decades-old band—doesn't quite translate to the harmony—once so viscerally potent—in his music. That, if you'll forgive the pun, could use a little tuning.

Last Word: Accepting that Tindersticks have gone from one of the best and most exciting bands around to being merely "reliable" is a tough peanut to swallow, but that's exactly what their latest release is—unspectacular, but with enough traces of the band's strengths to be of some worth.

Review By:
Sam C. Mac

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