Review Summary: how's it feel to survive?
Bathe Alone’s rise is easily one of the most heartwarming stories in present-day
drem. From finding the wonderful and quintessential lockdown-core debut
Last Looks in the crevices of Bandcamp to seeing last year’s “Some Things Never Change” work its way into Spotify’s playlist-limelight and cracking fourteen millions streams on the platform, I can’t think of a more well-deserved success story.
The very best part of this story is that Bathe Alone’s music has been consistently excellent since the project’s inception: sure, the fresh
I Don’t Do Humidity is a little less gazed out than what came before, but it’s every bit as wistful and heartfelt. From the opening notes of “Lake Sympathy”, it’s clear that this album traces its soft indie pop hooks with delicate dreamy textures. Some cuts are straightforward and boast catchy choruses - look no further than the bouncy “Blame Me” and “Victims” - but keep their imaginative dance floors squarely in the bedroom. Other moments opt for more explicitly understated, contemplative atmospheres: the easy-to-overlook “Caramelize” actually features some of the most imaginative and downright gorgeous melodies of the entire album, while late-album highlight “Call Me Back” is hypnotic in all its wonderful simplicity. The record's constant back-and-forth between these two modus operandi works incredibly well: as soon as a song captures your attention with its enthralling melodies and bouncy patterns, the next is allowed a little more time and space to work its way into your brain while cruising on sheer prettiness.
As a whole,
I Don’t Do Humidity is a tad overlong - but it’s hard not to be blissing
tf out while bopping along ever so gently during its runtime. The album hits a delightful sweet spot few projects truly accomplish: it is every bit as floaty as it is down to earth. Each acoustic strum complements and compliments each synth (seriously, try and get “4ever”s wonderful melody out of your head) in a delightful endless cycle of ethereal properties, while Bailey Crone’s voice remains a perfect fit for transforming deceptively dark lyrical sentiments into all things hazy and shimmery. Moreover, June is the perfect time for new Bathe Alone: the summer’s right around the corner, and even if the world is as awful of a place as it’s ever been, this record can provide that little bit of light, that tiny sliver of relaxation we all need and, frankly, deserve.
