Artist: Sono
Title: Lost Lovers Motel
Genre: Electro Pop / Retro-Wave / Synth-Wave
Release Date: 14th February 2025
Label: Sono Music
Album Review
A lonely highway. A fleeting glance out the car window. The city’s lights blur in the distance. The air is heavy with unfulfilled longings, while the radio broadcasts a voice that promises solace in the night. Who knows what waits at the next intersection or which exit I’ll take next? It’s just me, the road, and the guy on 106.7 FM. The sun is slowly sinking on the horizon. “There’s something about night time, that amplifies our feelings. The world quiets down and suddenly we’re left alone with our thoughts and memories.”
Round the next bend, a low-rise building dazzles in neon hues. There’s still room in the lot, so I pull over. The last rays of sunlight bathe the thick clouds over the small building in a deep red glow. Who else might have been drawn here? What could have led the guests of this establishment to this desolate stretch on the highway of memories? What stories do these rooms hold? Will you keep me company tonight as we unravel the secrets of this mysterious place? All right then - the door swings open and we step inside. Neon lights flicker on the walls, cigarette smoke lingers in the air, music spills from the jukebox. Welcome to the ‘Lost Lovers Motel’, a place caught somewhere between desire and regret, a place that “could be heaven or hell”.
I wander through the seemingly abandoned corridors of this 80s-built motel. A lone organ note draws me magnetically to a door marked ‘Like Glass’. The moment I step in, the catchy bassline, those signature 80s synth sounds, and Lennart’s warm voice plunge me into a tale of estrangement, shattered dreams, and the collapse of an inescapable love. “You ran out of dreams / I ran out of gas / Your heart in this place / Is breaking like glass.” A wave of disappointment and isolation settles over me. The fragility of feelings and the relentless disintegration of a once-strong connection are palpable. Time seems to stand still as the melody burrows into my ears and embeds itself deep in my mind.
A punchy bassline catches my attention at another door. The synthesizer chimes in rhythmically and I shift my focus to ‘Fifteen Minutes’. “A little left of the middle / A little off the map” the driving drum sequence intones and before I know it, my feet are tapping. Humming synthesizers buzz around in my head like busy little bees. I find myself in a place of distraction - somewhere between escape and a fresh start - diving deep into that 80s disco aesthetic. The supposed refuge from everyday troubles and loneliness offered in this nondescript motel room is “just a fifteen-minute drive” away. Beneath the glittering light of the disco ball, nothing feels permanent; not even this moment of carefree abandon - and as always, you pay for fleeting freedom.
Even my brief escape from reality ends, and I find myself once again on a desolate corridor. From a radio comes the familiar voice of my friend on 106.7 FM: “Welcome to Lost Lovers Radio. I’m your companion for the night, here to keep you company wherever you are. Especially you out there, feeling alone tonight. I’m going to play a song now, one that I think fits this moment...”
And just like that, we’re plunged into ‘Close To Me’, whose bubbling energy plants the next ear-worm in my head. Once that breezy Synthpop melody sinks in, it just won’t leave me alone. I can’t help but close my eyes, raise my arms, and dance around the room. The chorus - where Lennart teams up with a friendly studio vocalist - really hits home. The music surges through my entire body, a satisfied grin spreading across my face until, after about three minutes, I’m abruptly yanked from that euphoric spell. What just happened? And what story did I miss amid all this joy over such enchanting music? I retrace my steps, scanning the scene with fresh eyes. What I uncover is a tale of clashing perceptions in relationships and an obsessive craving for closeness, tainted by fear of loss and emotional dependency. Clinging to memories and holding out hope for one last chance, the contrast between one’s own view (“But I’m just lovesick”) and the other’s reality (“You say I’m toxic”) exposes a tragic misperception - a warning that emotional fixation and blurred boundaries can only lead to catastrophe.
Still mulling over these thoughts, just one more door reveals an entirely different story. ‘To The Moon’ ushers me into a quiet, intimate room. Here, there’s no rush. The music unfurls like gentle rain, and Lennart’s clear voice wraps around me like a comforting embrace. “And the world seems to slow down.” A sense of calm, security, and profound understanding washes over me. Sometimes, it doesn’t take much—just a compassionate soul who watches over you, who sees the scars of the past without judgment, just being there.
I’m snapped out of my reverie when the jukebox next door kicks off another tune. ‘1984’ bursts forth as an opulent Retro spectacle with pulsating synthesizers, danceable beats, and a melancholic, driving melody. In just a few measures, a soundscape reminiscent of New Wave and Synthpop’s glory days unfolds, only to crescendo into an iconic sax solo that layers on an extra measure of nostalgia. Beneath the disco ball, youths dressed in flashy outfits with teased hair twist and turn in time, while a dark message shimmers in the light. Much like George Orwell’s dystopia, ‘1984’ paints a picture of a world where truth is a malleable construct and reality can be reshaped at will. “Spreading alternative facts” and “Turning wrong into right” directly nod to our post-factual age, where disinformation, social media bubble effects and digital escapes poison our public discourse.
Instead of thoughtful reflection, there’s an insatiable hunger for validation - a quest for an artificially inflated self-image boosted to astronomical heights by online manipulations. “Your fantasies are just a click away to make you larger than life.” Under the glow of vibrant spotlights, we see a time when narratives trumped facts and people were trapped in virtual echo chambers. “Pain” emerges as a societal state defined by disillusionment and division. The clash between the danceable, energetic music and its bitter message makes ‘1984’ particularly potent—like dancing ecstatically in a neon-soaked club while the eulogy for truth plays in the background. In a world where reality has become nothing more than a bargaining chip, one haunting question remains: What if Orwell novel is no longer a work of fiction?
I escape out into the dark motel hall, finding myself in a maze of resignation and deep melancholy. A pulsating beat, layered with rhythmic synth tones that drift like fleeting shadows, fills the corridor. Here, I meet a man lost in a grey, endless landscape of emotions - a soul adrift in a sea of inner emptiness. He feels “too pitiful and tragic”, as if all his past struggles and the relentless, meaningless grind of everyday life had sucked him into a dark vortex. Then - like a twist in a dream - someone steps into his life, a person who changes everything. With a touch of magic and an almost otherworldly presence, she brings something into his world that he’s longed for. Her presence is like a beam of light piercing the grey veil of his dreary existence (“You bring in the element of magic / A power that made me turn to you.”). The music underscores this moment beautifully: as the vocals, soft and ethereal, carry the main melody, playful keyboard lines dance in the background, creating an almost fairy-tale-like atmosphere.
Every note, every line seems to mirror the transformation unfolding within this stranger. In that moment, he decides to shed his old burdens (“so I closed my case and I stopped the chase”) leaving behind all those pointless, shattered attempts. The music captures this inner revolution perfectly: the nearly hypnotic keyboard lines and the calm yet determined beat of the drums pave the way, while the delicate, floating vocals bear the weight of his decision. In the chorus, the transformation becomes almost tangible - repeated with an infectious urgency: “And then I run, and I run and I run and I run to you”. Each repetition seems to push him further from the darkness - away from the suffocating heaviness and into a warm, sunlit light. The atmospheric synthesizers, subtly receding into the background, lend the moment a playful depth that emphasizes the lightness of new beginnings. ‘Run To You’ thus tells a story of escape and arrival, of overcoming old shadows and boldly stepping into a brighter future.
Then I hear the slam of a car door and an engine roar to life. From the radio comes a driving beat - the bassline pulsates hypnotically while buzzing keyboards conjure an atmosphere of shimmering artifice and deep melancholy. The rhythmic cadence of the vocals propels the scene further, lending the ‘Lost Lovers Motel’ an almost mechanical chill - as if it were the title track to a grim night at a club where you lose yourself rather than find yourself. Beneath the glossy exterior lies the story of a man who has perfected the art of seduction. He moves through the night: dancing, flirting, playing with glances and promises - a hunter in the dark, always searching for the next emotional thrill, or maybe just the next bit of affirmation. But the perpetual chase for that rush, for the next “game”, comes at a price. “Lost Lovers Motel - this could be heaven or hell.” The synthesizers buzz ominously, and the guitar adds a note of near desperation - as if the mask were beginning to crack. “Look in the mirror, what do you see / Is that the person you want to be...”
“Walking Down the Corridor” leads me to room ‘No. 724’ - a place where you don’t stay long. It’s more a pit stop on a journey you might not fully understand. This is a haven for those who’ve lost their way, be it in love or in themselves. There’s no grand drama here, no sweeping gestures - just the quiet melancholy of a place that serves as a refuge for one night before you move on. ‘No. 724’ could be anywhere: an anonymous motel room drenched in 80s aesthetics, yet a symbol of those moments when we withdraw from the world - not necessarily because we choose to, but because that’s just how it happens. Perhaps after a breakup, maybe following a shattered dream, or simply after another meaningless day drifts by. The synth pads evoke soundtracks of neon-drenched film scenes, of city lights shimmering through rain-streaked windows. The high vocals in lines like “Looks like a King Size extra-large. But the bed is just for one.” lend a wistful touch reminiscent of the BEE GEES’ falsetto melodies. At the same time, the driving beat keeps the track moving, as if pushing us endlessly through the night - aimless yet in rhythm. Outside the room, the world seems no more than a vague memory - lobby announcements from yesterday, no messages waiting for us. Room ‘No. 724’ has surely seen others before; by tomorrow, it might be claimed by someone else, carrying their own story.
The motel’s neon lights flicker as I lose myself in the ‘Fading Echoes’ of a past love. The story begins as a quiet recollection - Lennart’s voice taking centre stage, backed by a pared-down synth line that feels like an echo from the past. But that echo swells, takes shape, gains strength, until it finally crashes in like a wave of light and movement, driven by pulsating beats and soaring synth pads. I walk a tightrope between goodbye and hope - haunted by memories, propelled by the yearning for a love that’s dissolving into shadows. It’s as if the past has become a phantom, intangible yet guiding every step. “I’ve been running, caught up in this chase / Streetlights flicker, but I can’t see your face.”
Those lines breathe the very essence of a night-time road movie - always on the move, restless, searching. Yet instead of arriving, you sink ever deeper into the ‘Fading Echoes’ - the last, vanishing remnants of a once - intense love. “Maybe we can find our way” - a spark of hope flares, only to be drowned by a darker realization: “Still I’m calling out your name.” Clinging to something that no longer exists. Love has turned into a drug - a sweet torment you just can’t quit (“You’re the drug I can’t quit, I’m hooked / Even when I know I’m misunderstood”). It’s this emotional high that fuels the song: the hope for a tomorrow that might restore what was lost. But, much like the music itself, this hope is nothing more than an illusion. We dance on an emotional razor’s edge: desperate to forget, to let the night numb the pain, yet the memories keep coming back - like an echo that refuses to fade.
I leave this place and turn to one final room, where the fleeting story of a ‘Love Affair’ awaits - a tale of passion, pain, and the inevitable end of a love. An intimate dialogue between two souls ensnared by the bittersweet magic of a doomed relationship. At first, I hear Lennart’s tender opening notes as he recounts that inner urge to run away, as though in a flash of clarity he realized that “there is way too much to repair”. His words hint at an escape from the crushing weight of past wounds - the moment when only pain remains and the prospect of breaking free becomes too tempting to ignore. Over a dreamy, slightly playful Pop melody, a second synth line unfurls like a cascade of delicate beauty, punctuating hopeful moments. Then the voice of NINA (Nina Boldt) takes over, offering another perspective (“It’s kind of hard under a spell / Thought it was more than a kiss and tell”). In the line “So close the curtains, turn off the lights”, Lennart’s voice mingles with NINA’s like a soft echo, hinting that both sides of this coin are inextricably linked.
It’s as if they affirm each other in a silent dialogue: despite their differences, they both sense that something in this connection just isn’t right. The chorus, sung together, sums up their conflicted feelings: “It’s feeling like a love affair / I thought that I would never care”. The words ring paradoxical - on one hand, the intensity of the emotions is undeniable; on the other, there’s a palpable air of resigned indifference. It’s as if two souls are caught in an endless dance between passion and flight. The music, laid-back and almost conciliatory, leaves you hoping that maybe there’s still room for reconciliation - even though both ultimately agree that this relationship has no future (“Can we agree that this just ain’t right”). In that realization, however, there’s something liberating - and so both souls almost happily dance their way into the night, singing as they go.
I climb back into my car and steal one last glance in the rear-view mirror. The headlights slice through the darkness, the motel’s lights blur into neon streaks, and from the speakers comes the familiar voice of my friend: “There’s something about night time, that amplifies our feelings. The world quiets down and suddenly we’re left alone with our thoughts and memories. You’re not alone. We’re in this together. This is Lost Lovers Radio.”
With ‘Lost Lovers Motel’, SONO ignite a nocturnal mind movie filled with floating melodies, driving beats, and bittersweet emotions. Each song tells its own story of fragile relationships, fleeting moments of escape, the illusion of closeness and the search for oneself. ‘Lost Lovers Motel’ offers both dark societal undertones and glimpses of warmth and hope - an album for night owls, dreamers, and all those who seek to find themselves in the darkness.
‘Lost Lovers Motel’ will be released on Valentine’s Day (14th February 2025) digital, on CD and as a limited 180 g pink-marbled transparent vinyl version. It’s best to order directly from SONO’s band-shop (https://sonomusic.de/collections). At other retailers, you’ll usually pay more and the band-shop has plenty of new merch available for the release. From the end of March, SONO will be on tour:
28. Mar - M.A.U. Club, Rostock
04. Apr - Backstage, München
05. Apr - Club Cann, Stuttgart
11. Apr - Lido, Berlin
12. Apr - Markthalle, Hamburg
19. Apr - Kulttempel, Oberhausen
20. Apr - Das Rind, Rüsselsheim
25. Apr - Werk 2, Leipzig
26. Apr - Groove Station, Dresden
Tracklist
01. Like Glass
02. Fifteen Minutes
03. 106.7 FM
04. Close To Me
05. To The Moon
06. 1984
07. Run To You
08. Drive
09. Lost Lovers Motel
10. No. 724
11. Fading Echoes
12. Love Affair (feat. NINA)
13. Outro
Line-up
Lennart Salomon - Voice, Guitar
Florian Sikorski - Keyboard
Martin Weiland - Keyboard
Website
http://www.sonomusic.de / https://www.facebook.com/sonofm
Cover Picture
Rating
Music: 9.5
Sound: 10
Total: 9.8 / 10
