What the world need now is a band that spins round and round so fast that it can create sonic whirlwinds of such size that your ears cannot ignore them and should you need evidence that such bands exist then you should tune your ears to the sound of Seattle based band Hotels.
Much as Morrissey could make something out of insignificance, Hotels make what could have been eighties synth rock revisited into something full of drama and just a bit different. In fact they have gone and done a concept album about a secret agent and his nemesis. Only “On The Casino Floor” isn’t an excuse for self indulgence for, whilst reverential to its influences from the days of drum machines and padded shoulders, this is an album with a sense of direction. The songs throw in the kind of noises that suggest an Atari video game was a source of inspiration but there is no doubt that the necessary support is there to hold up the substantial ennui in Blake Madden’s laconic vocals (never better illustrated than in the unrestrained disappointment of betrayal to be found in the words of “Sleep In Fame”).
True, the songs do merge into one but that, surely, is the point. You don’t just pull a song out of an album like this and expect it to make sense and, yes, retro is indeed the new, smartly dressed, secret agent dressed in black. Groovy, baby!