A hotel room is designed to host only broad strokes of humanity. Its functionality, from its purpose down to the objects it contains, rejects an occupant from leaving a lasting definition of the space. As we try to suppress images of previous guests in "our" room, we focus on settling in. This is usually an activity that allows us to forget where we are. Reading, television, a party. It can be effective and even enjoyable, a regrouping of the self lasting until checkout time.
But it's by no means a natural state. On their new single "Hotel," The Antlers find themselves in some comparable limbo. Though less experimental than the band's previous work within indie rock, it still moves with their trademark grace. Peter Silberman's soaring falsetto jumps from emptiness to emptiness, exposing wanderlust's lonesome underbelly. From sustained organ and piano chords grow an unlikely orchestra of horns, underwater guitars and twinkling synths, building up like stories without a book to contain them.