Tindersticks / AC Acoustics / Linoleum
Shepherds Bush Theatre
Linoleum make the word average seem horribly appropriate. However much I try to get what could be special about them I can think of someone else who does it better. They play a slow, country type one and I pine for Madder Rose's atmospheric streaks of guitar, they go for the repetative drone thing and I remember how Stereolab's use of repetition is always taken to its natural conclusion and not just thrown in because they can't think of another chord to play. Linoleum probably don't deserve to be dismissed on the base of one lacklustre gig, but that's all I have to go on and it's not very impresive.
AC Acoustics, however, make me want to rush to the front and press my ears against the speakers until they bleed. They're not quite loud enough but their intense guitar pop is still impressive. 'I Messiah, Am Jailer' is one of the best singles of the year so far and the rest of their set never lacks for melodies or fluid dynamics. Paul is obviously up for a good night as he bounces about at every opportunity and with a brilliant album about to be released they have every right to look jubilant.
Tindersticks were always the first suit-wearing, orchestra-wielding, ballad-singing mutherfuckers on the block and after the likes of The Divine Comedy and My Life Story disappear again they will be the last. They are the ultimate house band for the dreary roadside cafe at the end of the world. They are all futile gestures and smoky resignation, mumbled apologies and disgruntled atmospherics. Not so much pre-millenium tension as pre-millenium resignation.
It's no surprise that the Tindersticks feel much more affiliation with groups like Pavement and the Flaming Lips rather than The Divine Comedy or My Life Story as they too experiment with sounds and textures rather than using an orchestra in an ironic, spineless fashion. Tonight they are without an orchestra, but still wiegh in with an impresive seven members and the usual cornucopia of instruments ranging from the delightful use of a xylophone to the absurd melodica. They play mostly new songs for the duration of the main set broadcast on Radio 1, and struggle to hit the right note with the audience as the bass is way to high in the mix drowning out any of subtleties to Stuart's fairly bass heavy voice. We all listen attentively, knowing that these songs are soon going be locked into our heads once the new album comes out but it's difficult to get into it without any clue of what Stuart is singing.
Once Radio 1 have taken their leave they return looking far more relaxed and Stuart mumbles "Thank you for being so patient" before giving the audience what they came for. What follows is a run through of why so many people like Nathan and I, sad excuses for men that we are, are seeing the Tindersticks for the fourth time. 'She's Gone' manages to be both wistful and bitter, 'Jism' shakes the audience out of their reverie with lustful anger and 'Mistakes' makes the bearded man in front of me bow his head in submission. Stuart is all awkward body language and hidden passion.
There is not a hint of artifice in what the Tindersticks look like or, for that matter, sound like, and as Stuart twists the microphone into the floor during 'Mistakes' you can't help feeling a tiny bit misplaced. He really does not care that you're there, he really doesn't care if the records sell hundreds or millions. When you know that a band could play to a couple of people in a shithole and still get the same result as a packed Albert Hall, you know that they are great . It's not a case of apologising for being popular, it's just that for the Tindersticks the audience become almost incidental.
