ike a perfectly poured pint of Guinness, Stuart A. Staples’ voice is dark and deep, rich and smooth; a baritone that became a defining base for the Tindersticks to build upon. Since forming in 1992, the British sextet released six studio albums, a slew of singles and live recordings, and two soundtracks (both for French director Claire Denis), garnering critical acclaim and a small legion of fans, but little commercial success. So it didn’t come as much of a surprise to hear rumors of a split. Though it’s still to be substantiated (the band recently mitigated some murmuring by reconvening to play their second album track-for-track as part of the “Don’t Look Back” series) Staples gave the situation some context when he stated that the tracks on this solo record were written on the verge of leaving the things he loved and stepping into a new life, both musically and personally.

Leaving Songs is Staples’ second solo outing, but the first to be released in the US (Lucky Dog Recordings 03-04 was released in Europe last year and is featured here as a bonus disc), and, as the title suggests, parting is a recurring theme. A quick look at the track listing reveals song titles such as “Goodbye to Old Friends,” “There Is a Path,” and “Already Gone” among others. Whether this means the end of the Tindersticks and their moody, film noir mix of soul, lounge jazz, and lush orchestration remains to be seen. But those looking for a replacement won’t have to venture far: Leaving Songs sounds a lot like a Tindersticks album, one that eschews their more baroque offerings for mature balladry. This could be due, in part, to the prominence of three former Tinderstick players on the record; Neil Fraser’s guitar flitters throughout, the keys of Dave Boulter are a binding force, and Terry Edwards’ horns drop in like old friends. Notably absent though is Dickon Hinchcliffe, the Tindersticks’ electric violinist, who not only provided strings for the band, but much of their romanticism, a trait notably missing from Leaving Songs.

Recorded in Nashville with Mark Nevers of Lambchop, Leaving Songs is a country album (in the same sense that Lee Hazlewood was country), incorporating swathes of piano, lap steel licks, and spluttering horns atop Staples’ sparse acoustic guitar; the accents helping to hone each song’s already rich palette rather than overpowering it. “Goodbye to Old Friends,” which opens the album, acts as a template, musically and lyrically, for what’s to come. Acoustic guitar and piano intersperse, while Staples leads us on a rolling chorus-less carousel peppered with trumpets. One could assume the opening line (“It’s not that I don’t love you / Or I’m tired of your ways / I want you to know”) is addressed to the Tindersticks, the fans, or a loved one. It’s one of several assertions Staples makes throughout; he tells us he “knows which way the wind blows,” that he “gets that leaving feeling, this time it’s here to stay,” and that “he’s looking down that road trying to pick a good one.” It’s not all positive reinforcement though, as in “This Old Town” he stresses, “If you know where you’re headed let me know,” as if he hasn’t quite made up his own mind yet.

Best of all are two duets with Maria McKee and Lhasa de Sela, which recall the Tindersticks’ previous dalliances with doe-eyed females that included, among others, the terrific “Traveling Light.” McKee sounds as weary and worn as Staples on “The Road Is Long” a piano-led lament in which she acts as his foil, retorting “I get tired of traveling some times / I just want to go home” to Staples’ plea that “This road is long and there’s always another town.” On the grandiose string-laden “That Leaving Feeling,” which features the album’s defining line (“The past is so heavy but it’s something that I can’t leave / And this future’s so certain it just pushes me to my knees”) Lhasa plays Nancy Sinatra to Staples’ Lee Hazlewood.

On Leaving Songs, Staples hasn’t struggled to find a new voice, or tried to locate his old one in a new environment, instead, he views this album as closure rather than departure. “I was always aware that these songs were the end of something,” he explained prior to the release. “A…closing [of] a circle…that I started so long ago and I knew I had to move on from.” In an apt analogy, the album ends with Staples out at sea. Floating on a minimal melody of plaintive guitar and piano, he sounds like a man waiting to see where the current takes him.