Remember the early eighties John Hughes movies? Recall the ubiquitous party scene where the rich snob fails to succumb to the charms of Molly Ringwald's plastic pearls and fluffy pink sweater? Remember that band in the background? Hot Hot Heat sound exactly like that. The 'new Strokes' are THAT dated.
The single most ridiculous thing about the 'New Rock Revolution' is its pathological fear of anything that could possibly be described as new. This revolution will not be modernised. Even the few great bands to be unfairly lumped in with it - The White Stripes, The Kills - are characterised by a reactionary musical conservatism. But Hot Hot Heat's religious devotion to early eighties new wave is simply embarrassing.
Consider this a warning: buying 'Make Up The Breakdown' makes you a fence for stolen goods. XTC's leftover songs, The Jam's old bass-lines and Robert Smith's yowl are among the spoils. And if it makes for an occasionally entertaining record, remember that - unless you're Noel Gallagher - crime doesn't pay in the long run.
'Naked In The City Again' and 'No, Not Now' open the record and set a sprightly pace. Casio keyboards swirl, bass-lines bounce and guitars zig zag while singer Steve Bay yelps. Bay is easily the most engaging aspect of Hot Hot Heat, an elastic vocalist so excitable he is often breathless. His exuberance almost covers up his considerable technical limitations, while his lyrics are enjoyably deadpan. 'No, Not Now' is built upon the caustic chant "she's got a secret now! But no-one cares."
By the time hit single 'Bandages' comes around, however, the helter skelter pace and boorish catchiness are beginning to wear very thin. It's undeniably radio-friendly, but the hook is pilfered from the Presidents of the United States 'Lump', a record no-one really needed to hear the first time.
Meanwhile, 'Oh, Goddamnit' merely makes the listener wonder why Hot Hot Heat don't donate their brilliant song titles to a band with more than one idea. Though when they do have another idea, they botch it horribly. Closer, 'In Cairo', tries to introduce an engaging piano riff and some lazy atmospherics, but merely ends up exposing the crudity of the songwriting and the clumsiness of the musicianship.
Energy and vitality are, of course, wonderful things, but they're best applied with originality or imagination. Lacking these, 'Make Up The Breakdown' feels a little like being locked in a room for thirty minutes with a hyperactive four-year-old overdosing on e numbers. Or E. It's not uninteresting, but you wouldn't want to do it again.
