Hot Hot Heat
Future Breeds
(Dine Alone/Shock)
To say I’ve been hot/cold with Hot Hot Heat in the past is an understatement. I loved the jittery Vancouver band’s debut EP for Sub Pop, 2002’s Knock Knock Knock, but the breakthrough follow-up album Make Up The Breakdown felt sluggish and overproduced by comparison. (It’s since grown on me a bit.) Tracking down the early singles via the collection Scenes One Through Thirteen was more disappointing still, but then 2005’s Elevator emerged as a nagging guilty pleasure. Specifically the radio-friendly smoothness of ‘Middle Of Nowhere’ and ‘Jingle Jangle’, as well as ‘You Owe Me An IOU’, which got back to the wiseacre, Dexy’s Midnight Runners-ish appeal of that old EP. Then came the toothless third album Happiness Ltd., despite a new take on the Knock Knock Knock standout ‘5 Times Out Of 100’.
Now here we are at Future Breeds, Hot Hot Heat’s first album recorded at its own pace in its own studio. It’s been billed as a return to zero, but despite some interesting moments, mostly the band sounds weary. The production is cluttered and soggy, with the band wildly grabbing at passing ideas (sax! cello! cartoonish sound effects!) with scant regard for songwriting. Granted, there’s palpable muscle to both the opening ‘YVR’ and the title track, but too many of these songs lurch awkwardly to frontman Steve Bays’ snide tone and relentless stream of lyrics. As always, Hot Hot Heat teeters on the edge of annoyingly catchy and plain annoying, with ‘21@12’ finding a solid little chorus despite pat observations about male behaviour. ‘Times A Thousand’ overcrowds with extra vocals and competing instruments, but then ‘Implosionatic’ nearly captures the manic new wave energy once so readily available at the band’s fingertips.
It’s a scattershot album, even for a band as wildly unreliable as this one. That said, Bays has always been the band’s constant, all the more so after the guitarist Dante DeCaro departed for Wolf Parade in 2005. On top of his deadpan yelp and fuzzy synth pounding, Bays’ key lyrical asset is turning crafty punchlines into bubblegum refrains and tongue-twisting puns. He’s big on acronyms, and this album yields the Vancouver airport-referencing ‘YVR’ and the dance-punk-y ‘JFK’s LSD’. But such wit can take an obnoxious turn – take the title ‘Buzinezz Az Uzual’ – and it doesn’t amount to much if the songs aren’t there.
On the plus side, the closing ‘Nobody’s Accusing You (Of Having A Good Time)’ is the catchiest song on Future Breeds, with that undeniable spark only certain HHH songs have. ‘Jedidiah’ is up there too and ‘What Is Rational?’ relishes its lurid jumpiness. It’s a shame those three songs come at the tail end of the album. Ultimately, Hot Hot Heat may sound relaxed and up for trying anything here, but that’s not always a good thing. It may be that it’s too late for this band to salvage what was once so much escapist fun. But judging from their past highs and lows, you just never know.
Doug Wallen