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The Hungry Saw

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Tindersticks

 
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The Hungry Saw
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Avg: 4.0 (54 ratings)

Tindersticks get back to their spaghetti-western roots with a smile on their face and a tongue in their collective cheek.

  • We Say...

    Simplicity has never come naturally to Tindersticks. Their best songs are marked by excess, from their lush orchestrations to the doomy quaver of Stuart Staples’ voice. But with their numbers reduced by half, the former sextet was forced to cut back. For The Hungry Saw, their first album in five years, the core trio of Staples, guitarist Neil Fraser and keyboardist David Boulter decamped to Staples’ home studio in rural France, limiting their recording time to eight days to cut down on studio fatigue.

    The result, not surprisingly, is the sparsest album in the band’s career and, musically at least, the most upbeat. Discarding the soul flourishes of the albums before their half-decade hiatus, The Hungry Saw returns Tindersticks to their spaghetti-western roots with a smile on their face and a tongue in their collective cheek.

    Anchored by Fraser’s swooping guitar and a beatbox loop, the title track sounds positively sunny — at least until you listen to the lyrics, which concern the devil’s attempt at open-heart surgery. The opening “Introduction,” one of three instrumentals, is a study in moody minimalism, delicately plinked octave piano resting atop a clipped organ pulse, with just a hint of vibes and a subliminal bass riff to carry the mood.

    Longtime fans may take a while to warm to the lounge-pop embellishments of “The Flicker of a Little Girl,” whose fluttery flute and oboe parts hardly jibe with their mopey past. But they’ll be rewarded by the album-closing “The Turns We Took,” whose swelling strings echo the band’s most glorious indulgences. The Hungry Saw is not the Tindersticks of yore, but it’s either the start of a promising new chapter or a worthy epitaph.

  • They Say...

    If you were of the opinion that Tindersticks may have gone through some kind of drastic sea change brought on by their five-year hiatus and the absence of founding member and co- architect of their trademark sound, Dickon Hinchliffe, you are dead wrong. The band weathered the storm and on their seventh studio album, The Hungry Saw, the three remaining members of the band retain every last aspect of what made the band special (the inventive arrangements, the cinematic sweep of the songs, Stuart Staples' distinctive vocals) but also manage to sound rejuvenated and fresh at the same time. The last album they made before their split, Waiting for the Moon, seemed like it was just another in a long line of excellent releases by the band. The Hungry Saw is hungrier, more dramatic, and if not exactly urgent, it feels like the work of a band with something to prove. Staples, in particular, brings something extra to both his vocals (clearer than usual and with more bite) and lyrics ("The Hungry Saw" has some of his most powerfully visceral words to date). It is one of his best performances in a long career full of them. The arrangements too are given extra care. The horn arrangements by longtime associate Terry Edwards are superb and the strings sound rich and suitably dramatic on the heavy ballads and breezy on the light ones. The addition of Suzanne Osborne's wordless backing vocals on the lovely and harrowing "All the Love" are a welcome touch of sunshine too. As is the candy sweet melody and acoustic strum of the almost poppy "Boobar Come Back to Me." Not that the record is a smile fest by any stretch, there is still enough chill blowing through it to make your teeth hurt. It wouldn't be a Tindersticks record without that, and songs like "The Other Side of This World" and "Mother Dear" have enough sadness coursing through them to satisfy the needs of any gloom junky who has come to count on the band for a quick fix. Indeed, Tindersticks have never failed to satisfy anyone looking not only for sadness but also those looking for albums that make you feel and songs that will stick with you for a long time. The Hungry Saw is classic Tindersticks.

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