On Goodness, The Hotelier gets lost in the wilderness and comes out the other side
Given the lengthy run-up to its release—spanning over four months from its initial announcement—The Hotelier’s third album, Goodness, could have easily fallen victim to hype of its own making. The group’s last album (and first under The Hotelier name, rather than the original Hotel Year) Home, Like No Place Is There took people by surprise, but Goodness carries with it the weight of expectation. The Hotelier didn’t singlehandedly legitimize pop-punk and emo, but it is one of the first bands of that ilk to get the endorsement of playing Pitchfork’s music festival. It’s why, when the record opens with bassist-vocalist Christian Holden quietly reading a poem, Goodness crushes all preconceived notions in a few short stanzas.
If it sounds pretentious to open an album with a spoken word track, it’s because The Hotelier isn’t afraid to toe that line. There are three interludes on the record, each one named after a set of coordinates that land in desolate locations across the northeast. The first sees Holden establishing lyrical themes, with the subsequent breaks featuring sung variations on “I See The Moon.” It’s a clever framing device on The Hotelier’s part, as it gives the album a decidedly grandiose feel despite Goodness not reaching 50 minutes. On first pass, those interludes can seem superfluous; after a while, they begin to feel like necessary pieces of a larger whole.
Their worth is proven as soon as “Goodness Pt. 2” kicks in. If it wasn’t for Holden’s hushed words preceding it, the track wouldn’t hit nearly as hard. “Goodness Pt. 2” also comes to represent the album as a whole, as each member’s part seems wildly disconnected until two minutes in, when the band suddenly brings order to the chaos. Gone are the grabby, pop-punk machinations that made Home so immediate, but Holden’s knack for instantly memorable choruses remains in tact.