Gig review: Tindersticks at Octagon Theatre, Sheffield

There’s big money to be made in the nostalgia market, which Tindersticks tap into on one level. The Nottingham outfit’s 1993 self-titled debut saw their chamber pop roundly praised but they never managed to turn this early acclaim into mainstream success. When they went on hiatus in 2003 it went largely unremarked.

There was little fanfare for their return five years later but, unlike many of their peers, they had an advantage in their cult following. While the likes of Shed Seven and Suede have navigated successful comebacks, fans demand to hear the big hits alongside newer material. Tindersticks, whose highest UK chart placing was number 38 with ‘Bathtime’, have no such binds.

With few expectations, they’ve been able to develop unhindered. The result is a steady stream of albums – last month’s Soft Tissue is their fourteenth – alongside work on film soundtracks, and the ability to still fill mid-sized venues.

The success certainly isn’t down to live charisma. Frontman Stuart Staples, one of only three original members, resembles Pete Doherty’s uncle in pork pie hat and black suit. He barely says a word to the audience all night, but his faded velvet baritone is one the band’s most memorable assets. This is especially true during the first of two sets, when the instrumentation is funereal in its minimalism.

‘Memories Of Love’ sets Staple’s vocals against little more than a brushed cymbal until the extended outro, when a range of bells and chimes appear to unexpectedly herald a mood of subdued hope. ‘The Bough Bends’, with its spoken word section, also makes an asset from its restraint, with Neil Fraser wringing sounds from his guitar that align with Nick Cave’s recent output.

The second set finds the band exploring more fulsome sounds. ‘Don’t Walk, Run’ and ‘New World’ draw on 70s soul, their autumnal feel conjuring crackling fires and red wine. This may be the lugubrious style that’s come to define the latter half of their career but there are still unexpected turns, with the sleazy bass on ‘Turned My Back’ having a dalliance with funk, and ‘Nancy’ being cocktail lounge Tropicália.

Their unshowy performance manages to balance nostalgia with incremental change, with Staples being the guiding force as a ‘Second Chance Man’.