Tindersticks, Queen Elizabeth Hall, London
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.An episode of cannibalistic sex is in one way tonight's gruesome climax – Béatrice Dalle chomping on an unfortunate lover – with Tindersticks carrying on in their usual hangdog manner. You realise then how intimate their relationship with the French film director Claire Denis is. They find the gore completely natural.
That scene comes from Denis's much ridiculed Trouble Every Day, one of six of her films that the Nottingham band or members thereof have scored. Tonight is a celebration of that productive partnership, with the band performing extracts from their soundtracks over scenes projected on a vast screen above them.
Nine musicians go about their business in near darkness, beginning with the loungey strains of their first collaboration, for 1996's Nénette Et Boni, all double bass and glockenspiel. None acknowledge the audience, allowing the visuals to take precedence, which presumably suits the band's diffident frontman Stuart A Staples, happy to lose himself in the music as he adds guitar or percussion.
Early on, louche arrangements allow us to watch with ironic detachment the vignettes of loners struggling to connect, snippets from the same film organised together. Matters take on a darker tone as we progress through Denis's oeuvre. The music spins off from Tindersticks' bleak orchestral pop into more esoteric shapes, notably on Staples's solo offerings for 2004's L'Intrus – but it's perhaps most fully realised on her most recent film, White Material.
Over long tracking shots, you luxuriate in the band's interactions, while in action sequences you forget they are there. Performing these works live, Tindersticks benefit from the hard work committed to meshing their compositions to what happens on screen; ambient noise – horses' hooves or the rhythm of trains – forms a vital part of the finished product.
Less so Staples's own lugubrious vocals, here limited to a handful of cameos, most successful the cathartic "Trouble Every Day" and the exuberantly doleful "Tiny Tears".
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments