Bathtime

Bathtime captures Tindersticks at a fascinating pivot point, where the heavy, soot-stained gloom of their earlier work begins to let in a sliver of rhythmic light. The title track is an anomaly in their catalog: a jaunty, almost bouncy piece of chamber pop driven by a persistent string motif that feels like a clock ticking toward an uncertain appointment. It is domestic and intimate, yet Stuart Staples' baritone remains as smoke-cured and world-weary as ever, ensuring the playfulness never feels saccharine. It sounds like a sophisticated lounge act performing in a basement during a light drizzle.

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