Stuart Staples's grinding baritone is almost becoming a thing of caricature. Yet to pigeon-hole it, and his band's reliably morose meanderings, is to fail to appreciate the effort, thought and talent that makes up the Tindersticks experience.

Another major revelation of the live Tindersticks is the extent to which the lush string arrangements which have crept on to their records are in some cases an over-used prop. The violin of Dickon Hinchcliffe provides a gaunt and haunting texture which, to my mind, better suits Tindersticks' distressed style.

Most obvious of all, though, is the classic body of work they have created, from their earliest musings to the fantastic songs on Curtains. Musically, they were born fully-formed, and to play a concert without a single bad song, or a single pretentious moment, is some achievement.

Tindersticks are nothing short of remarkable. Uniquely, for a pop band, everything they do has the air of being thought out in great depth. They are so highly charged that in this "mad for it" era they stand head and shoulders above the rest.