Pitchfork

Stuart Staples has a voice like a black hole-- dark and dense, trapping light and sucking in anyone who gets too close. Tindersticks, his long-running band, are one of those rare, seemingly egoless entities that make music devoid of posturing, and his voice allows them to plumb emotional depths few bands ever approach. When he and his previously neglected middle initial go solo for the second time on Leaving Songs, the presence of those amazing pipes automatically marries the record to Tindersticks, and fans of the band will be able to dig right past the post-expressionist portrait of the Gorton's fisherman on the cover to marinate in Staples' signature elegant melancholy.

I've heard nothing of a Tindersticks breakup (two of the band's other members, keyboardist Dave Boulter and guitarist Neil Fraser, appear on this album), but you could be forgiven for reading opener "Old Friends, No. 1" as a post-implosion song, with lines like, "I catch myself in the mirror and I remember that I've got to do something with my life" and "we flattened everything that stood in our path/ Now I wake up and have to find myself through all the shit that once told me who I was." The music is fairly close to the rich oddball soul Tindersticks have pursued since 1999's Simple Pleasure, with ramshackle horns provided by long-time collaborator Terry Edwards and intricate string arrangements that add substance rather than merely color.

Given the style, the choice to hop the Atlantic and record at the Nashville studio of Lambchop's Mark Nevers seems natural, given that Nevers and Lambchop are about the closest American analog to Tindersticks. Little bits of country seep in at the album's edges, from the bright piano and wandering slide guitar of "This Old Town" to the pedal steel that graces "This Road Is Long", one of a couple of duets with Gina Foster. The most stunning track is "Already Gone", a song that recalls the inky ambience of the second Tindersticks LP, beginning with just fluttering acoustic guitar and Staples' trembling moan. As it creeps along, a flurry of strings rises from below, while Boulter's unmistakable organ drops blotches of color across the song. Edwards intrudes with honking baritone sax and the song builds to a weird, unsettled conclusion.

The world Staples addresses in his songs is almost never settled. Uncertainly lurks in every line, kept company by disaster, despair, and occasional malevolence. That tendency holds true on Leaving Songs, which any Tindersticks fan definitely must hear. As a solo record, it's no declaration of independence, but by sticking to what he does best, Staples makes it ring with sadness and sophistication.