Proving that soul and studio-bound polish aren’t always mutually exclusive creatures, Cass McCombs’ adult-oriented pop is cut from quality cloth indeed. What’s more, 'That’s That' is a good place to start for the unacquainted – benefiting from a roomy, graceful arrangement that tips its hat to a Big Music past without ever succumbing to scuffed-knee histrionics, it’s the sensual yin to Bono et al’s pornographic yang.

Everything here is tactfully presented so as not to insult our intelligence and to give centre stage to McCombs’ high, keening vocal whose melody recalls The Pretenders’ ‘2,000 Miles’ – stately bass, Rumours-ish vocal harmonies and graceful touches of piano all playing their respectful part.

No doubt you’ll want to shovel heaped teaspoons of coffee in your eyelids for reading this, but Cass McCombs sounds like a nice man and a thoroughly accomplished musician, and that, on what we’re assured is the most miserable Monday morning of the year, is assurance enough.