Check into Hotel Usona with Protomartyr
When legends like Iggy Pop lend their endorsement, it’s usually a sign that something truly resonant is happening. For the band Protomartyr, this stamp of approval has followed their musical journey, but when fellow Michigan natives sought guidance on their latest work, the response from the Godfather of Punk was anything but faint praise.
The legend didn’t just offer a nod; he went above and beyond, declaring the band itself to be “Kind of like Jesus” while announcing their newest record. And honestly, with the stunning output of Hotel Usona, the hype is entirely justified.
Hotel Usona doesn’t just exist on a playlist; it’s an immersive experience. For a group known for navigating the high-tension wires of post-punk, this album delivers a profound exploration of what happens when that wire finally snaps. Instead of simply dwelling on the tension, Protomartyr uses the façade of a rundown hotel to stage a devastating critique of the modern world.
Singer Joe Casey masterfully guides listeners through the dilapidated hallways of the American Dream. The nine lean, visceral tracks serve as a stark visualization of contemporary anxieties, inviting us into a space where the decay of society is laid bare. On tracks like “The Old Hotel,” Casey offers a chilling welcome: “Welcome back to the dream of a rotting mind.” It’s the modern equivalent of Hotel California, but where the illusion offers no reprieve, only a realization of perpetual, unsettling change.
The sonic landscape of the album is equally dynamic. While Protomartyr has always been uncompromisingly bleak, Hotel Usona embraces exhilarating new directions. The band collaborated with superstar producer Dave Fridmann—known for his work with the Flaming Lips and Nick Cave—who brought an unexpected but brilliant energy to the project. This partnership allowed the music to expand beyond minimalist post-punk, allowing for explosive sonic shifts.
On “The Sounds We Cannot Hear,” Fridmann pushes the band past sulkiness, unleashing torrents of sound that feel genuinely explosive. Meanwhile, tracks like “The Knife Dream” incorporate the warmth of horns and piano, lending a nightmarish, almost lounge quality to the execution. The sound palette shifts dramatically across the album; “Lavender Gospel” features saxophone blurs like a klaxon, while “Checking Out” throws the percussion into an industrial frenzy.
These shifting sounds mirror Casey’s thematic concerns. Through the rooms of the hotel, Protomartyr addresses a world rankled by cryptocurrency, data centers, and political extremism. It is a defiant statement that doesn’t offer easy answers; it simply searches and destroys the gilded illusions of the present age.
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