The streets are filthy and colder
But I don’t feel like going home
I was invited to go there
But I’m only on my own
Welcome to Hotel Grand Amour. Check-in is permanent.
Hotel Grand Amour arrives like a telegram from a forgotten border town, complete with smudged ink, foreign stamps, and heartbreak sealed inside. The debut single from Pissoir des Dieux, a collaborative alchemy between Larissa Iceglass (Lebanon Hanover), Vincenzo Wieczerzyński (Chaos International), and Owen Pratt (Uncanny Valley), this mysterious song drifts like perfume through a cracked hotel window: faded, fragrant, faintly stained with regret.
Recorded in the slow, sighing countryside of France’s Occitanie region, the trio chased something ghosted from modern music; something more felt than formatted. The result is a brittle ballad perched between 60s pop languor, neo-folk fatalism, and the brittle bones of early wave. Think Nico and Marianne Faithfull flickering to life in a Lee Hazlewood tune after an ill-advised absinthe binge. There’s also a bit of a nod to the enigmatic work from Peter Murphy and Mick Karn as Dalis Car.
A spaghetti-western guitar motif stumbles into Iceglass’s distinctive soft, weathered murmur; a voice half-lost, half-lurking. A piano glints as Wieczerzyński’s unexpected bass solo answers with a shrug and a cigarette, while Pratt’s tashikoto lends a surreal, twinkling ache. It’s delicate but not fragile; worn but not weary.
Lyrically, Hotel Grand Amour is a last-ditch prayer whispered into the corners of the downtrodden, searching for angels in cracked suburbs and love in a hotel that may never exist. Iceglass directs the video, a poignant study in stillness and slow collapse: a figure sits at the bar, alone, watching as others twirl through joy and delusion. This forlorn number is a hymn for the heartsick, a postcard from the precipice.
Watch the video for “Hotel Grand Amour” below:
Listen to Hotel Grand Amour below:
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