The Tubs

Upon arriving in the United States for The Tubs’ first tour of the country, frontman Owen Williams told The New Yorker, “We’re here to unite the country. We’re gonna come, like, three times. By that point, I think this place will start healing.” Then, joyously, they did just that, piling into a van and criss-crossing the States, bringing their literary, bleary-eyed, world-weary, night-of-your-life highwire act to the masses when it was needed most. Along the way, they signed to Merge Records, who will release The Tubs’ third full-length album, Hard Life, on September 11, 2026.

The Tubs have never lacked for ambition — on Hard Life, theirs is to complicate the Tub-ullar experience. Having perfected their sound across two albums and hundreds of shows, the London-based Celtic jangle boyband — Williams (vocals, guitar, keyboards, bass), Dan Lucas (guitar), Taylor Stewart (drums), and Max Warren (bass) — push themselves even further into the shimmering heart of virtuosic indie rock. They’re joined by frequent collaborators Lan McArdle (vocals), George Nicholls (guitar), and Rachel Kenedy (keyboards), all of whom have orbited various Tubs and Gob Nation-adjacent efforts dating back to Joanna Gruesome, but the secret to Hard Life’s lushness is the addition of fiddle player Chris Haigh, an instructor and session musician who left an indelible mark on British pop on Steps’ “5, 6, 7, 8.”

Mirroring Williams' use of trilling on vocal melodies, Haigh’s fiddle shades the vocalist's rueful croon like a bruise. On “Stoop to Me,” the folkiest, jangliest pop song on the album, Haigh’s licks complement Williams at his most self-deprecating, the lopsided smile of a guy trying not to let on how wounded he is in unrequited love. On album opener and title track “Hard Life,” it’s the sweetness of the ascending fiddle lines in the mix that weds the harshness of Williams’ lyrics to The Tubs’ fist-pumping anthemics.