The Something Rain

Two decades and nine albums down the line, Tindersticks are as bruised and beaten as they ever were.

They have found and sustained their own unwavering audience, despite long breaks and little apparent musical progress, and it's easy to see why - Tindersticks remain entirely convincing on The Something Rain, yet another languid collection of claustrophobic hazel-eyed soul.

It starts with a wildcard; Chocolate is a nine-minute spoken-word tale woven by David Boulter that sets the downbeat mood, but Stuart Staples is soon on hand to add his crushed velvet tones, a voice packed with misery and memory. He is an intense Nick Cave-like presence on Show Me Everything, but pressure is relieved by the liquid, Rhodes piano-fuelled groove.

And that's the Tindersticks way: Staples as jolly and melancholy, as Leonard Cohen while his colleagues become the Stax house band behind him. So Frozen is a jittery horn-blasted shimmy through the lowlands, This Fire Of Autumn is all Serge Gainsbourg Gallic swing and Slippin' Shoes is a mesmeric, bossa-nova torch song with - half an hour in - the album's first chorus.

That kind of delay is OK. We come here for the slow release; no cheap, quick thrills with Tindersticks.

Album Review by Matthew Horton