It may be a little too simplistic to say that Bathe Alone’s new album I Don’t Do Humidity was inspired by her divorce. If that was the case, the 12 capsules of ruminative dream pop featured on Bailey Crone’s third record would feel a little more scattered and less self-assured. Rather, these songs were inspired by a handful of other songs that were inspired by divorce and similarly monumental events in the songwriters’ personal lives, which in turn found their shape through the sounds of musical forebears themselves.
Crone’s third album under the moniker hits an intriguing balance between emotive lyricism and dreamy instrumentals inspired in equal parts by her bedroom-pop peers and Japanese city pop. She’s quick to admit that much of the album’s DNA was cobbled together from listening to Hayley Williams’ revelatory professions in song and Bombay Bicycle Club’s exploratory indie jams—with Crone making it seem like the songwriting process came relatively easily after connecting with such artists’ work. The playlist she compiled for us is full of these tidbits, with artists ranging from Iron & Wine to Naomi Akimoto filling out the palette she worked from on I Don’t Do Humidity.
With the record out now via Nettwerk, hear her picks and find her explanations for each inclusion below. You can stream the new LP here.
Naomi Akimoto, “Bewitched (Are You Leaving Soon)”
I wanted to start with the song that’s been the soundtrack to my life for the past few years. This is my favorite song in the world—please play this at my funeral. I’d been getting into city pop, and there’s something about the color and vibrancy of the melodies and overall mood that makes me so happy. I rarely listen to lyrics in songs, to be honest. So songs in other languages are interesting to me because it’s the phonetics and percussiveness of words and emotion of the person singing that are a part of the melodic arc at that point.
Hayley Williams, “Crystal Clear”
This whole record, Petals for Armor, was an eye-opening project to me. I was married when it came out, so I wasn’t relating to it in the context of my own divorce, but in the context that an album can be ordered by emotion, and how an artist can venture into new territories and it’s absolutely OK. I’ve been a huge Paramore fan since I was 16, and I went on a date to a show at their Honda Civic Tour with the guy who’d become my husband 10 years later. I remember illegally downloading (sorry) six songs on Limewire onto my iPod Video, and listened to exclusively those six as I traveled to meet my biological grandfather for the first time when I was 16, as well.
I probably have a bunch of childhood trauma to sort through with adoption and what makes a family your family. Which was why, when my long-term relationship ended, I felt like it was yet another piece of paper that defined what made my family, my family. Anyway, I know Hayley went through a similarly long-term relationship and this whole record is about that journey ending. When my own relationship ended, I recalled this record and how she seemed to use this project as a way to get something visceral off her chest. It gave me the confidence to be completely naked and open in my own songwriting in the same way while I was going through my divorce.
Ruby Haunt, “Darling”
This song’s aesthetic is something I try to chase in my own work: The simplicity of the guitar melody was the muse for “Gemini,” and the rhythm of the bassline was the muse for “Archive 81.” Sometimes I don’t even know how much this song leaks into my own work, but it’s the thing I really believe wraps up what I’m going for all in one song.
Bombay Bicycle Club, “Rinse Me Down”
This song has been with me for a very long time, but I decided to learn it on guitar. It’s based on a D shape, and I was exploring using the same vocabulary to write something of my own. Very quickly, the chords for “Lake Sympathy” emerged. A few months ago, we actually opened for Bombay Bicycle Club. I got the chance to tell Jack [Steadman] how he’s impacted my own work and told him the story of how “Rinse Me Down” directly inspired “Lake Sympathy.” He told me that that’s exactly how he made his song, too! He said that his song is basically another song that he was vibing off of. He said, “See? It’s like a stepping stone. It was that song, then ‘Rinse Me Down,’ then ‘Lake Sympathy.’”
Magdalena Bay, “Secrets (Your Fire)”
My friend Jasmine is a complete tastemaker in my life, musically. Everything she loves, you can pretty much bet I will love it, too. Back in the day she introduced me to Lana Del Rey and Beach House, which are huge influences in my work as an artist to this day. Every few months I’ll ask what her new favorite song is. She showed me this Magdalena Bay song. This ended up being another soundtrack to my life at the time of writing this record and heavily influenced the artistic choices I made on “Victims” and “Blame Me.”
Kurt Vile, “Bassackwards”
Damon [Moon] is going to hate me. Damon’s studio Standard Electric had changed locations at the beginning of this record. At both locations, the bathroom is super close to the control room. He started doing this thing in the new space where he’d play this song very loud then walk away from the computer. I quickly caught on to what this meant. It became a nonverbal joke that I seriously believe solidified our friendship, amongst other things he was solidifying.
Night Tapes, “Forever”
To continue the joke, I needed my own song to queue up when nature called. I kept playing this one, and then Damon said that Night Tapes had now become his favorite band. They’re doing a lot of interesting stuff over there [in London]. Damon and I come from vastly different places, but in the Venn diagram of our music tastes, Night Tapes is in the absolute center. Jasmine also was the one who sent me “Forever.” She never misses.
Wet Leg, “Chaise Longue”
This song influenced my vocal approach to “Dreamboy,” with how sing-talky it is. But what I think is more interesting to talk about is what I always think of when I hear this song: where I was the first time I heard it. I was on tour with another band, and we were staying in all these strangers’ houses and crashing on their couches. We were in Nashville, and I was sitting in a massage chair in the middle of this Australian guy’s living room. He had this closet by the front door that he kept costumes in, which he said were for in case guests wanted to dress up, and on the wall by the massage chair was a big framed portrait of him meeting Ryan Seacrest. It was all so bizarrely hilarious, and just one of those situations you only really get into when you’re in your twenties. Anyways, “Chaise Longue” came on in the background and my jaw dropped, as that was now the most captivating thing in the room.
Iron & Wine, “Carousel”
Right before my divorce, I’d gotten really into The Shepherd’s Dog. I loved how melodically driven [Sam Beam’s] fingerstyle guitar parts were on that record. There was a bit of overlap with my own divorce story and my Fall with the Lights Down release. I wrote “Animals & Trees” from that record and “Caramelize” from I Don’t Do Humidity around the same time—both heavily inspired by “Carousel” in particular. The way this song changes tempo in the bridge, too, is just so… This is one of those things where music can say so much more than my own vocabulary is capable of. Which is great for an interview, I know.
Faye Webster, “Pigeon”
I remember getting into this record in the early days of the pandemic, whenever music was still a very solitary experience for everyone. At the time, I’d never heard super R&B vocals in this kind of genre. I loved the quick phrasing of the vocals in the chorus, and all the tension she layered in with background vocals. It directly inspired the vocals for “Archive 81.”
Lana Del Rey, “Off to the Races”
The original bridge to “Fresh Start” was much more cohesive, vocally, to the rest of the song. But when I sent my demo to Damon, he said it sounded like my vocals were straight out of Born to Die. It makes total sense that Lana would come out of my subconscious. We decided to lean into it, and sorta built this theatrical character singing style and just made it as extra as possible. The lyrics of this section are inspired by this HBO miniseries I was watching about Queen Elizabeth I. I won’t go into the history of it all, as I’m not a historian, but I was fascinated with the interpersonal feelings they portrayed, as well as this inner rage and resilience Elizabeth seemed to have to succeed despite what society thinks of her. I’m personally a very stoic person on the outside, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going through something. I just really channeled her situation into mine, and even changed up her famous quote a little.
Beach House, “Blue Bird”
Most of the harmonic movement in this song feels like it’s in the lower register—it feels a little bit murky. I can’t quite put my finger on the emotion I feel in this song. It’s not exactly spooky. It’s not exactly melancholic. But it does make me feel off in a way that I feel like I’m self-inflicting whatever type of uncomfortable feeling this song gives. It inspired me to try to venture into that indescribable territory, which eventually led to “Gemini.”
