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Formerly known as Operator, The White Hotel has finally released their debut album, Operator. Much hyped as one of Austin’s soon-to-be breakout acts, The White Hotel, have cavorted about the Austin music scene for a few years, touting an ear for New-Wave pop and a panache for sardonic, cynical songs backed by sometimes harrowing, sometimes ecstatic, electronic drums and synths.
Debut albums are an unspoken line in the sand, though, especially bands with clout such as The White Hotel, but Operator seems to dodge any assumptions about influence, aesthetic, or technique and deftly lands on a cushy middle ground — nothing too commercial or definitive while at the same time being readily accessible to the pop-minded. The sextet seems to take the “physical over intellectual” approach with Operator as most of the cuts reek of The White Hotel’s dark, danceable electronic fuzz. “Amoeba” sizzles with punchy drums and bass and vocals that echo within their own space into a filled out chorus. “Frenetic Fit”, which is undoubtedly a stand out track on the album, finds a positive place for its rotary organs/synths and razor-sharp guitar work, construing the isolation and nostalgia hinted at in the lyrics as a redemptive lesson learned.
It’s somewhere inside of this electronic, ambient static that The White Hotel finds a home. Other forays into different spheres of influence prove too much of a stretch for the group. “Pitzy,” a sort of upbeat punk send-up sounds a touch forced and little too lighthearted given the lack of levity throughout the rest of the album. “Madrid’s” organic introduction puts the listener too close to the action, taking us out of our heady electro-haze in the album’s second half. The White Hotel sounds better as something appreciated from afar — a sum of many parts, a gestalt.
The music tends to operate as the main catalyst for emotional mobility as opposed to the breathy feminine vocals — which could be a great vehicle — supplied by Sherry Rojas. The lyrics, on a whole, sit on the lighter side with abstract images and common lyrical tropes about dreams and expectations (“when you’re outside looking in”, “the dawning of today…”) making up much of the lyrical meat, and where some creative expressions could have benefited the melodies, S. Rojas seems content to punctuate obtuse writing with pseudo-monotonous vocals.
Minor fallbacks aside, Operator, is still a decent album — a few rough patches in the beginning, but the picture starts to form around mid-disc delights, “Lagoon” and “Electric Dreams” for their catchy and spacious deliverance. When the White Hotel wants to, they can deliver like the band of promise they were originally touted to be.
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