Tindersticks

Notes from Tindersticks at Glasgow City Hall:

Why and how am I still coming to gigs on my own and standing awkwardly at the bar on my own after all this time?
This place looks like its half full of ex-goths who now work in admin. It's like a more sedate version of the crowd at a Nick Cave gig. I always wondered who the Tindersticks fans were. I've put my black dress on to fit in. And who is that bloke in the black suit and glasses that I always see at gigs - is he a journalist? It's triple points on Glasgow Indie Eye Spy tonight as well - A full Belle and Seb compliment.
They're playing some really dreadful new age space music as the band gets set up. It's like being in a holistic massage parlour. How do I always manage to arrive too early to these things? Great seat though, the middle of the front row on the balcony.
The support band is cut to a duo and the singer is very nervous and keeps apologising and I wish I had someone to hang out with in the bar, but I don't so I stay in my seat.
The 12 piece band with strings and brass come on stage. With singer Stuart Staples joining them last. He seems rather overcome by the rapturous Glasgow welcome and comments that it's been so long since they played here that he's forgotten how beautiful the city is, which gets them on his side even more. The edge of a Nottingham accent that remains in his soft speaking voice makes me intolerably homesick. Most of the band are still wearing some elements of their trademark suits, Staples in shirt, jacket and jeans.
They're playing a fair bit of new stuff (but I think I'm about 3 albums behind) The newest songs sound great and then they play Travelling Light and it all falls into place. They're the soundtrack to the saddest film ever, it's in a foreign language and it's full of shadows. I wipe small tears from my eyes and remember the first time I saw them, at Reading Festival in 1994, where I was so exhausted that I sat down on the ground and wept. Some sense memory of this comes back to me every time I hear them but it's not an unpleasant feeling, rather a quiet nostalgic melancholy.