Ever had that curious feeling of deja vu? W&H are suffering from it at Cork's cavernous Opera House tonight. Seven years ago, we suffered through singer/ songwriter DAVID KITT'S interminable support slot to the magnificent Tindersticks' orchestral show at London's plush Royal Albert Hall. At the time, the affable Irishman seemed to be turning all the right alternative heads with his gentle, songwriterly ways, yet W&H couldn't see the attraction. Least of all when he mercilessly destroyed Prince's 'When Doves Cry' as a parting shot.
Tonight, the billing is exactly the same, with Kitt again opening the show. The time between has not been entirely kind to the tousle-haired minstrel, though, and following some major label exposure and tours with his own band, he's suffered the slings and arrows of being dropped and slugging it out in the wilderness. I'm not even sure if he has a contract right now and instead of a band he's armed with an array of guitars, an ever-faithful Apple Mac and the need to try out new material on us. Hope, it seems, springs eternal.
And, believe me, W&H have tried and tried to like David Kitt. Not specifically out of choice, really, simply that we seem to keep attending gigs where he's been involved on the bill. He seems a lovely fella, too, friendly and chatty and a true believer in what he does. Once again, though, this entails 30 minutes of inoffensive, instantly forgettable songs – mostly with the help of second guitarist/ vocalist Katie Kim. If you could hear her, that is, as her Telecaster and muttered harmonies are non-existent in the mix. Not that it really matters, for the inevitable response is polite applause from the percentage of the crowd who can't be arsed to drag their butts in from the bar. It's the support act's lot, basically, and one David Kitt will be forever doomed to repeat methinks.
So you could say TINDERSTICKS are home free without having to even play a note tonight, yet that would be doing them a grave disservice, for their first visit to Cork in 13 years clearly means a lot to Nottingham's finest. For not only have they returned with a career highlight courtesy of the triumphant 'Hungry Saw' album but also a newly-renovated line-up which is really clicking if tonight's sublime 90 minutes is anything to go by.
Their sense of timing and the dramatic remain as spot-on as ever too, as four of the core group and their touring string quintet take their places for the evocative and sparse 'Introduction', where keyboard maestro Dave Boulter picks out a lonely refrain akin to Roy Budd's 'Get Carter' mood pieces. He's joined quietly by organ, tiny glockenspiel and a lumbering bassline from Dan McKinna and, just as it winds down, vocalist Stuart Staples appears centre stage.
Although a little greyer around the temples, it's clear Staples has benefited from the band's indefinite hiatus since 2003's water-treading 'Waiting For The Moon' album. His inherent shyness still belies the confidence that has seeped into his velvet-y quiver of a voice and even after all these years he still struggles to make much eye contact with the crowd. For all that, he exudes natural charisma and is a wonderful gentle giant of a front man, capturing our hearts as soon as he picks up a tambourine and guides the band into the understated groove of the insistent 'Yesterday's Tomorrows' from the new album.
It's a stunning start and one the all-new Tindersticks are keen to build upon. No disrespect whatsoever to Messrs. Hinchliffe, Colwill and Macaulay, but this new line-up operates with an intuitive brilliance that's almost supernatural. Fresh highlights like the rippling pop romanticism of 'The Flicker Of A Little Girl' and the sardonic 'Hungry Saw' itself (“a gramme of speed and a one-night stand/ I left my baby in the devil's hands”) give under-rated guitarist Neil Fraser plenty of space to quietly shine, while bassist McKinna is not only a hugely capable musician but has also brought some attractive, high-end harmonies to the table and drummer Thomas Belhom is a real find. Visually he's amazing: all weird, stiff muscle movements and crossing of his arms, yet he performs percussive miracles throughout, either stepping back or getting behind these gorgeously subtle songs of loneliness and temptation to absolute perfection.
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Perhaps inevitably, the bulk of the set is culled from 'The Hungry Saw', but no-one's complaining when there are songs of the calibre of 'Come Feel The Sun' and the windswept, string-kissed likes of 'The Other Side Of The World'being discussed. Besides, the Tindersticks are also clearly at ease with their behemoth of a back catalogue: witness the early appearance of 'Travelling Light' and a nicely-poised 'Dying Slowly', not to mention a surprise dip into the Townes Van Zandt songbook for a devastating version of 'Sixteen Summers, Fifteen Falls'.
Traditionally, most sets sag in the middle, but that's certainly not on the Tindersticks' agenda tonight. Instead, we're treated to a marvellously funereal 'Sleepy Song' and a poised version of killer woozy waltz, 'She's Gone'. As it winds down, Stuart mumbles “I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to write a better song”, although the majestic sweep of the country-tinged 'Buried Bones' following in its' wake gives it a memorable run for its' money.
The oft-missed sardonic humour in the Tindersticks' finest work is present and correct in the darkly hilarious 'Hungry Saw' – complete with a complex percussion and shaker arrangement from the string section – while the main set's home strait takes in further magnificent ports of call courtesy of a spotlit Staples torch-singing his way through 'Boobar Come Back To Me' and a vibrant, soulful cruise through the older-but-wiser 'Turns We Took', thus bringing the curtain down in real style.
They've done more than enough already, but the encores really spoil us. First up, we get their terrifically emotive version of Odyssey's 'If You're Looking For A Way Out', then there's the full-throttle Mexican blood spilt by the Mariachi delights of the first album's classic 'Her' and – finally – the enduring sadness of 'All The Love's pin drop sparseness, built around the most minimal of guitar inteplay, one lone lowing cello and Belhom's tiny finger cymbal chime. It's utterly sublime and such is the intensity of the applause that a visually moved Staples remains behind to say “it's one of those nights where we could play all night but we'd better go.” Well, if you really must.
It really has been quite a night though. It's been a long time coming, but if you'd said even twelve months back that Tindersticks would not only be here, but toting a new line-up with a tangible spring its' step, then most Cork folk would probably have shaken their heads in disbelief. That's the Tindersticks though: taking their time and conjuring effortless magic at their own speed and on their own terms. Whoever said you can't rush genius knew exactly what he was talking about.
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