The image of a band waltzing on the spot seems to accompany every Tindersticks album. Perhaps it’s the curse of a band fortunate to work out a distinctive and effective sound at their inception. Whatever, Waiting For The Moon is the usual impeccably crafted artefact, though it’s questionable whether anyone who owns their first two albums needs it in their lives. The aspirations to soul that marked out 2001’s Can Our Love… have melted away?this year’s attempt to bend the formula is “4:48 Psychosis”, a bristly narrative in the vein of Cale-driven Velvets, and the album’s high point. Elsewhere, it’s very much string-drenched business as usual:sometimes lovely, sometimes perilously close to self-parody.
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