Now that we have ‘Goodness’ in our hands, it feels right for ‘Home, Like Noplace Is There’ to be filed as a one-off. The Hotelier’s second album will remain important to many people, thanks to its sky-scraping hooks and the manner in which Christian Holden’s raw, unflinching writing navigated abuse, suicide and a sort of yawning hopelessness, but in following it up they have wisely flipped the coin to reveal a new approach.
There are moments where ‘Goodness’ strays into devotional territory, emphasising recurring motifs and choral interjections. The sun is a regular presence, while the idea of harmony with nature extends from the album’s cover through to Holden’s belief in our ability to look out for ourselves and one another free from government supervision.
The record’s many interludes, including a spoken-word introduction, serve to create a meandering pace at odds with the condensed, intense ‘Home…’. A number of songs here head north of five minutes, exploring circular riffs and vocal exchanges, further adding to the sprawl.
Fundamentally, though, Holden’s writing has retained its thematic and melodic power. They have an unusual approach to the construction of individual songs and allow extra space to investigate that angle further here. Goodness Pt.2, for example, exists as a dialogue between Sam Frederick’s drums and Holden’s voice for half its running time before tumbling into a refrain that could only belong to the Hotelier.
Immediately after, Piano Player jumps from a driving opening into a murmured chant of a verse and the repeated use of the word “sustain”, in shifting contexts, as its hook. The segments bookend a passage in which Holden’s rolling cadence pulls intriguing melodic details into focus, their poetic words focused on an elderly woman in one of a number of allusions to death and rebirth through the natural world. “My eyes greet hers and hers do mine and then the room becomes her shrine,” Holden sings. “An older ma'am sets herself straight and then she smiles with 88 remembered loves and morning suns.”
A few songs later, on Opening Mail For My Grandmother, Holden is at their own grandmother’s bedside. “Your grip on my forearm, insert the wrong name,” they sing. “Holds me at your nightstand just inches away.” Soft Animal positions Holden close to nature, but yearning for a more tangible connection: “Sophie’s on the bunk overhead reading Mary Oliver while I lay still in my bed. That’s when I see you there. Fawn doe, light snow. Make me feel alive, make me believe that all my selves align.”
‘Goodness’ can be unpacked and reinterpreted countless times. Holden’s words keep enough back to give them an ambiguous edge, while musically the Hotelier have become happy, for the time being at least, to leave plot holes where before they might have followed an established blueprint. Rather than a rushed sequel to ‘Home, Like Noplace Is There’ it is a companion piece that understands their shared history as a starting point for new adventures.
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