Great bands and great records shouldn't come down to a competition, but by way of bringing it to your attention, Tindersticks’ Soft Tissue was my choice of 5th best album of 2024. I’m touched that Stuart Staples seems genuinely pleased to be on the list. 

Alexi Petridis’ review of that record in the Guardian was so good I read it a few times. 

“If the overall message seems to be about noticing beauty in small things as a bulwark against the ghastliness of 21st-century life”.

That captures the mood of the album in precious few words. I found myself drawn into Soft Tissue…seduced by it really. From the opening song, New World, and its topline “I won’t let my love become my weakness” it got me, and the rest of the record buried itself into my brain even though I couldn’t pinpoint why. But as Stuart Staples attests, the best music connects with us in a way that is beyond analysis:

“If a record sets things off, gets you searching for something or looking for meaning, then it's doing its job. If we understand it too much, it's kind of dead, whereas if there is mystery to it, space to try and understand it, then it’s alive”. 

Tindersticks music is beyond analysis but that hasn’t stopped me consuming everything written about the band over the years with almost as much hunger as their music. What makes them such a well kept secret? In the book Long Players, author Eimear McBride’s essay on the second Tindersticks album (the band is rare in every sense, including the dubious accolade of being a band with two self-titled albums, the debut and its follow-up). 

“There’s a true, if disconcerting, magic to the three way wedding of the album’s beautiful, intricate scoring, the cigarette-stained, shame-filled intimacy of the lyrics and Stuart Staples’ deep, dark, world-weary singing voice”. 

If the best artists create a world in which their work can come alive and their fans can escape from the humdrum of life and the worries of the world, then Tindersticks are the perfect example. But beware those who enter, this world is not perfect and to overuse typical adjectives, it is dark and as McBride attests, disconcerting. It’s also strangely comforting.

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