It’s fitting that Pity Party, the second full-length from Canadian alt-rockers Hotel Mira, kicks off with a shout and ends in a silence of sorts. Across 12 shape-shifting tracks, frontman Charlie Kerr spins a giddy, glitter-streaked descent from champagne-soaked highs into the ugly lows of regret, hangovers, heartbreak and self-loathing. The result is a sonic mood board of the modern condition — manic, melodic and often magnificently messy.
Here, Charlie takes us through the album track by track.
1. America’s Favourite Pastime
Welcome to the party — and it’s already spiralling. This is a swaggering, strut-worthy opener drenched in sleaze and serotonin. Think Lana Del Rey’s decadent nihilism meets Iggy Pop’s gnarled glamour, with Kerr wielding lyrics like neon confetti. “It needed to be pure Iggy,” he says, and it smacks of exactly that: feral, flirty and unashamedly chaotic.
2. Right Back Where I Was
There’s something deliciously masochistic about this one. Lyrically, it’s a panic attack in motion — a repeat offender in love, watching someone walk away while knowing full well it’s your own fault. Still, there’s an almost joyful defiance in admitting you’re stuck on the same carousel of bad choices.
3. Made For This
Now the lights dim. Kerr describes this as the “autopsy of a break-up,” and it plays like a late-night postmortem fuelled by old voicemails and half-drunk whisky. There’s no blame here, just the bitter truth that some things don’t work — and maybe never could.
4. Cowboy
Cupid gets a rebrand here — not a cherub with a bow, but a chaos agent with a goddamn bazooka. This is breakup-core at its most theatrical. The love interest doesn’t just drift away — they get blown out of emotional range by misfired affection. It’s tongue-in-cheek mythologising of heartbreak, but grounded in real-world ache.
5. Melissa
You know this guy. He’s three drinks past charming, one rant away from getting punched, and he thinks he’s the tortured poet of the dive bar. Kerr lays out a brutal, hilarious character study of the self-immolating party nuisance, all set to a banger that will no doubt become an anthem for anyone who’s ever been ghosted by a girl named Melissa.
6. Making Progress
The halfway mark shifts gears. Here, Kerr explores survival as a quiet rebellion — choosing community over isolation, connection over performative cool. The line “Forget your heart, protect your neck” stings in the best way: hard-won wisdom, shouted from the back of the room.
7. Runner
Eavesdrop-core. This track unravels like whispered conversations in a bathroom queue — messy love triangles, hot takes, and drama that’s only half-judged. But there’s affection, too. This isn’t mean-spirited gossip; it’s social anthropology at 2am.
8. Javelin
Kerr describes this as an “advice song” — his She Loves You, but make it Hotel Mira. It’s sweetly sincere, despite the Wheatus-meets-Prince debate that apparently surrounds it. You get the sense this is the pep talk he wishes someone had given him, all wrapped up in a shimmer of pop.
9. Stone’s Throw
Obsessive longing, meet brutal distance. This one’s all about being within reach of someone you shouldn’t text, and nearly doing it anyway. There’s real vulnerability here — the kind of haunted intimacy that sticks to your ribs and follows you into the morning.
10. Back To The Bedroom
A sex-as-sabotage ballad that pulls no punches. There’s nothing romantic here — just the cold sting of using your body to numb your brain. It’s an unflinching portrayal of the ways we mistake connection for coping, and it hits hard.
11. On And On
The penultimate track is a lesson in restraint — both musically and emotionally. It’s about cutting your losses before they bleed you dry, with Kerr urging himself (and us) to stop trying to resurrect dead things. “This isn’t about ego… it’s about learning to let go,” he says. Amen.
12. There Goes The Neighbourhood
The party’s over. Everyone’s gone home. And you’re left with yourself, your past, and a town that doesn’t look the same anymore. It’s raw, nostalgic, and weirdly comforting in its honesty. A fitting close to an album that dances so wildly through the night only to end with a quiet, sobering walk home.
Pity Party is Hotel Mira’s most accomplished and emotionally honest work yet — a fever dream of sex, shame, glitter, grief, and the glorious mess of being alive.
Which track are you playing on repeat?
