Album Review: Good Charlotte - 'Motel Du Cap'
Nearly three decades since their debut, Good Charlotte return with Motel Du Cap, a raw, heartfelt revival that bridges nostalgic pop-punk spirit with seasoned emotional depth.
From the grind of Waldorf, Maryland, to selling over 11 million albums worldwide, Good Charlotte didn’t play by the rules; they smashed them. With fists-in-the-air bangers like ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous’, ‘I Just Wanna Live’, and ‘The Anthem,’ they wore their hearts like battle scars and never backed down.
There’s something poetic about a band rediscovering its spark in a place as dreamlike as the south of France. For Good Charlotte, it was a private wedding gig at the illustrious Hotel du Cap in 2023 that reignited the flame. The result? Motel Du Cap, their eighth studio album and first in seven years, is a record that blends nostalgic defiance with a refined sense of maturity, a testament to both evolution and staying power. Nearly 30 years after they first entered the music scene, Good Charlotte is back, and they’ve brought with them their rawest and most heartfelt offering yet.
Produced by the forward-thinking duo of Jordan Fish (ex-Bring Me the Horizon) and alt-rock go-to Zakk Cervini, Motel Du Cap finds itself at the crossroads of memory and momentum. It’s a record that aims to honour the band’s past without getting stuck in it. Here, Good Charlotte aren’t chasing trends; they’re reinterpreting their legacy, sculpting 2025-ready pop-punk that still carries the dirt under its fingernails from club shows, Warped Tours, and restless youth.
Opening track ‘Check In at Motel Du Cap’ serves as both a thematic and emotional key to the record. It’s not just a mood-setter, it’s an invitation. Framed by faded neon glows and cinematic string pads, it captures the record’s mission: to be personal, unguarded, and resolutely human.
Lead single ‘Rejects’ exemplifies that balance of old and new. There’s a grit in its verses, influenced, perhaps, by the lo-fi punk of bands like Ultra Q, where plucked, overdriven guitars support Joel Madden’s confessional delivery. It’s unmistakably Good Charlotte, but with a refreshed filter. The chorus erupts with the kind of fervour that reminds you exactly why they were once the poster children for pop-punk underdogs. It’s anthemic without being saccharine, charged without being juvenile. The claymation video directed by Erik Rojas and Lenna Onto reinforces the band’s willingness to play with form, remaining unafraid of oddities or quirks in their storytelling.
Then there’s ‘Stepper’, the album’s second single, a true standout. What begins as an introspective stroll quickly blooms into a euphoric sprint, bolstered by gorgeous, shimmering guitar lines and a chorus that feels both enormous and intimate. “Show up for life,” the Maddens declare, and it hits like a mantra for anyone emerging from the haze of hard years. The accompanying video, which casts the brothers as motel caretakers observing guests come to life through music, is as heartwarming as it is clever, a visual echo of the song’s soul.
Across its 13 tracks, Motel Du Cap explores genre infusions beyond the typical pop-punk palette. From emo pop to skate punk and subtle electronic flares, the band is unafraid to experiment. The Zeph-featuring ‘Pink Guitar’ is a wistful, dream-pop-tinted, slow-burning, soft-edged, lushly produced, and quietly devastating. On ‘Deserve You’, country-pop cross-pollination via Luke Borchelt adds a surprising warmth, while ‘Vertigo’ (featuring Petti Hendrix) dives into smoky R&B textures without losing punk tension. It’s ambitious, sure, but rarely overreaches. Even when some collaborations don’t land with quite the same weight (‘Life Is Great’ with Wiz Khalifa flirts with novelty), the band’s sincerity keeps it grounded.
There’s also a persistent sense of resolve. ‘I Don’t Work Here Anymore’ explores midlife ennui with a knowing nod, channelling the same angst that powered The Young and the Hopeless, but now with grey hairs and real estate portfolios. ‘Mean’ harks back to early-2000s GC rage, reimagined through a grittier, post-pandemic lens, while ‘Bodies’ resurrects the synth-punk flavour of ‘Good Morning Revival’ and gives it a modern polish. It’s a sound they wear well.
What elevates Motel Du Cap beyond just nostalgia-bait, however, is its heart. For a band once defined by their youthful rebellion, Good Charlotte has found something more powerful in vulnerability. Their maturity isn’t dressed up or manufactured; it’s bruised, imperfect, and honest. Tracks like ‘The Dress Rehearsal’ and the closing song ‘GC FOREVER’ reflect this introspective turn. They’re not declarations of finality, but moments of reflection, of checking the rear-view mirror while still pressing forward.
Motel Du Cap thrives with its lyricism when it leans into the band’s unshakeable identity as storytellers for the misunderstood. The themes are familiar: identity, resilience, defiance, but they’re approached with more nuance. Where once there was all-caps rage, now there’s self-awareness. Where once there were simple hooks, now there are layered harmonies, gentle breakdowns, and vulnerability woven into the framework.
If 2018’s Generation Rx was their darkest and most experimental phase, Motel Du Cap is the morning after, clear-headed, self-assured, and hopeful. There’s a brightness here that doesn’t feel forced. Instead, it’s the sound of a band rediscovering joy in their craft, joy in songwriting, in collaboration, and the unfiltered connection between music and listener. It’s Good Charlotte making music not to reclaim relevance, but to honour their roots and where those roots have led.
They’ve long been champions of the misfits and the misunderstood, and on Motel Du Cap, that mission continues, just with softer edges, deeper shadows, and brighter bursts of light.
As best said in the press release, Motel Du Cap isn’t just an album—it’s a testament to a band that’s never stopped growing and never stopped believing in the power of a good song
Words by Danielle Holian
