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Chet Faker.
Chet Faker. Photograph: Nick Murphy
Chet Faker. Photograph: Nick Murphy

Chet Faker: Hotel Surrender review – far bigger on textures than hooks

This article is more than 2 years old

(Detail/BMG)
Nick Murphy returns under his alias with a fix of tasteful but unmemorable coffee-table pop

Under the alias Chet Faker, the Australian auteur Nick Murphy found huge success in his homeland, and won critical plaudits internationally for his 2014 debut set, Built on Glass. A switch to his real name for the follow-up proved less successful on all fronts. Last year’s set of instrumental ambient soundscapes, Music for Silence, meanwhile, was so low-key it didn’t even warrant a physical release. It’s perhaps not a surprise, then, that Murphy has reverted to the pseudonym after five years in the wilderness.

Hotel Surrender doesn’t represent a radical departure from Built on Glass: the sound is artfully constructed – mellow, electronica-infused pop that is far bigger on textures than hooks. Opener Oh Me Oh My sets the tone: a swelling intro has Murphy softly intoning over the top, before giving way to polite, crooning, coffee-table pop. Coming across like Rag’n’Bone Man shorn of the bombast, it’s pleasant enough – no horses are going to be frightened here – but it cries out for a memorable chorus, and none is forthcoming. It’s a template Murphy comes back to again and again: the marginally more upbeat and engaging Feel Good aside, it’s all very tasteful but ultimately a little unexciting. As returns go, it’s an underwhelming one.

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