Upon ordering a bowl of soup from a restaurant of any kind, the expectations are simple. The soup should be piping hot, please your taste buds, and should leave you feeling satisfied. Although these three components are rudimentary, they are imperative to your feelings of fulfillment when leaving the chosen dining establishment. When soup is tepid, tasteless, or lacking substance, it is expected to be left feeling disappointed, and perhaps disgruntled.

Like lackluster or lukewarm soup, Hot Hot Heat’s 5th album, Future Breeds fails to deliver an afterglow to its listeners. It is, in fact, just bath water, dare I say, dishwater instead of steamy, flavorful, filling soup. How ironic a band titled Hot Hot Heat could compile tracks so warm, blah, and mediocre. Upon listening to the album’s 12 tracks, you may find yourself wandering to the kitchen for something with more spice and substance.

With a new bassist, new record label, and first self-produced album, Hot Hot Heat can be given a pat on the back for their efforts despite adversity. Future Breeds, unfortunately, proves that minimal maturity has developed within the band over its 11 years. The album, at times, feels like an attempt to relive previous works such as “Makeup the Breakdown.”

Future Breeds, HHH’s first attempt at producing a record proves to be a noble attempt. Every instrument, every beat, every pitch of vocals has been captured. The lyrics are unpredictable yet catchy. Steve Bay’s voice is still quirky and charming, which is perhaps the album’s only salvation making it bearable to listen to. The production and engineering of the album prove to shed light on the band’s personality. Basically, they are a bunch of old cat ladies and their instruments are their beloved felines. They love each instrument too much to dim one down to showcase another. In short, they horde sounds the way 80 year old women horde cats. Sadly, despite every sound, chord, and beat projected to its capacity, the album still manages to wallow in a toddler’s bath water.