Violent Femmes - Hotel Last Resort (LP)

Violent Femmes have always made a racket out of restraint, and Hotel Last Resort leans into that trick with the calm confidence of a band that knows exactly where its nerve endings sit. Released on 26 July 2019 through Add It Up Records and PIAS, the album marks their tenth studio set and one of the most cohesive late‑period statements from the Milwaukee originals. It is spare, dry and sly, the sort of record that makes you lean in rather than turn up.

You hear it straight away on Another Chorus, a brisk opener that feels like a manifesto. Gordon Gano’s voice is as nasal and knowing as ever, pushing through a tangle of acoustic strums while Brian Ritchie’s acoustic bass guitar does that familiar thud and growl. John Sparrow keeps time with a clipped, tactile clatter. He’s the percussionist who famously works a charcoal grill into his kit, and that junkyard snap is part of the Femmes DNA. The other secret weapon is Blaise Garza, whose baritone and contrabass sax lines give everything a subterranean hum. Those elements are all over Hotel Last Resort, and they make the record feel handmade in the best way.

The headline cameo is Tom Verlaine. On the title track, the Television legend threads lean, glassy guitar lines around Gano’s melody, never grandstanding, just teasing out space and tension. The song would work without him, but his presence sharpens it, like a new blade on an old pocketknife. Press around the album focused on that team‑up for good reason, and it stands as one of the set’s highlights.

There is a pleasing mix of fresh material and recontextualised history. The band revisit I’m Nothing, first heard on 1994’s New Times, with a new arrangement and a guest appearance from pro skater Stefan Janoski. It is a clever bit of self‑mythology, turning an old calling card into a 2019 statement about identity and shrugging off expectations. Paris to Sleep drifts by with a woozy shuffle and a lyric that splits the difference between romance and displacement. Adam Was a Man taps that peculiar Femmes humour, Biblical framing used for everyday failings, sung like a smirk you can hear.

What makes Hotel Last Resort land is the discipline. No glossy fix‑ups, no gimmickry. The band trust the room and their interplay. Ritchie’s bass is huge but never heavy. Garza’s sax often sits like a drone, a low fog that binds the songs. Gano writes in clean lines, often clipping ideas down to a few singsong phrases, which means little turns of phrase stick for days. If you came up on their self‑titled debut and Why Do Birds Sing?, you will recognise the skeletal swing and the odd mix of innocence and menace. It is not a nostalgia act though. It feels more like a group taking stock and finding a steady pulse.

As for how it sits in the catalogue, I would file it beside Hallowed Ground for mood and New Times for wry bite, while admitting it sounds like neither. It is its own small, sturdy world. Late‑career albums can sometimes act like a tour brochure, but this one plays like a set you would be happy to hear front to back in a small room. A few critics called it a return to form, which undersells how consistent the core trio have been when they keep the arrangements lean. Better to say it captures what they do best and leaves the extra to someone else.

If you are crate‑digging, Hotel Last Resort vinyl is worth chasing. The acoustics and the low reeds come alive with a bit of room air, and the title track with Verlaine feels that little bit more spectral on wax. Violent Femmes vinyl is always a safe bet for Sunday mornings and late nights, and this pressing sits neatly next to the classics. If you like to buy Violent Femmes records online, keep an eye on shops that specialise in independent rock, or ask your local. I have seen copies pop up in Melbourne record store bins, and it is the kind of album that rewards a quick listen at the counter. For those hunting Violent Femmes albums on vinyl across the country, plenty of vinyl records Australia retailers carry it, often alongside their early catalogue. However you get it, play it loud enough that you feel the bass string scrape and the sax’s breath. That is where the charm lives.