Tindersticks - The Hungry Saw reviews
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| Avclub |
 Five years after the mildly underwhelming Waiting For The Moon, Tindersticks is half the band it once was, having shed three members. It's hard to hear the difference in scale—per the last 15 years, strings and brass remain constant. But the intensity has been diluted: "Mother Dear" is little more than an organ hum, Walkmen-like drums, and the most jagged guitar solo that the typically unruffled band has ever indulged in. The instrumentals— once grim, grinding affairs—are now acoustic palate-cleaners like "The Organist Entertains," a late-night carnival dance over ethereal string runs. Stuart Staples' vocals remain deep and his lyrics morose, but they're counterbalanced rather than cocooned by the backgrounds. "All The Love" is typically downbeat—five minutes of meditating on divorcées for whom "all the love inside them twisted in hate"— but it's balanced out with a wordless cooing female straight from a Ennio Morricone score....full text |
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| Allmusic |
| 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....full text |
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| Courant |
When Mark Erelli called his fifth album "Hope and Other Casualties" in 2006, it was an uncharacteristically pessimistic sentiment from a singer and songwriter with a wide, guileless streak of idealism.
He amends the feeling a bit with the first song on his latest, "Hope Dies Last." It's a somber, fingerpicked acoustic song, and Erelli sings as if his heart is about to break as he ticks off a list of global woes: suicide bombings, trapped coal miners, deceitful electioneering. "Nothing much has changed here," he sighs. Then his wife hugs him tightly on her way out the door, and his lament dissolves in a moment of pure, deep-seated joy....full text |
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