★★★☆☆

Ten parentheses can’t distract from the truth: Five years after their last release, The Neighbourhood returned Friday with a somewhat enjoyable, yet largely unremarkable, album.

The band returned quietly—no interviews, no live performances, and barely a social media presence. This no-frills approach is likely due to the controversies that the band has accumulated since its last release. Vocalist Jesse Rutherford’s 10-year-age-gap relationship with Billie Eilish in 2022–2023 sparked some backlash, which was added to by drummer Brandon Fried’s departure from the band after admitting to groping The Marías’ vocalist, María Zardoya, in 2022.

Fried has since reunited with the band to make (((((ultraSOUND))))), an ordeal that reflects the album itself: a hope for new beginnings followed by a return to the same old.

The album at least starts strong.

“Hula Girl” is The Neighbourhood at its best. The opener immediately captivates with a steady beat and that hazy, alluring sound that the band does best.

Throughout the song, Rutherford seems to fixate on a hula girl doll stuck to his dashboard during what he frames as an inevitable car crash.

“Dashboard hula girl (All of my dreams) / C’mon and turn my world (All of my hopes) / Upside down, inside out (Out the window) / Upside, I’m inside now,” Rutherford sings.

With a cool, composed voice, Rutherford clings to an inanimate object as his escape from catastrophe, asking it to make everything different as what is good slips away.

“Hula Girl” delivers depth in simple, catchy lyrics. Paired with lush production, it’s the closest (((((ultraSOUND))))) gets to something great.

Yet, by the fourth track, the album fades into a dullness that persists until the very end.

“Private” settles comfortably into Rutherford’s best, most sultry voice and the band’s familiar, atmospheric production. A beat trudges through the song, becoming the center of each chorus—because it certainly isn’t the lyrics.

“Shh keepin’ it private / Uh-huh,” Rutherford sings repeatedly.

That’s the whole chorus.

At points, a voice resembling a British Amazon Alexa in whisper mode adlibs “(((((ultraSOUND)))))” and “The Neighbourhood,” almost out of necessity to brand an otherwise generic song.

By the bridge, the band tries for a dreamy, futuristic sound. What’s left is more of a flurry of noise that completely muffles Rutherford’s words. And, somehow, it still feels underwhelming.

It’s a push and pull for the band. Where it experiments, it falls short. Where it sticks to what it knows, it offers nothing more.

On the 12th track, the band manages to find a comfortable groove. An obvious spinoff of the band’s hit “Daddy Issues,” “Mama Drama” takes the former’s slow, moody blend and adds a bright, glimmering twist, with a warmth akin to the Oracle Sisters or The Growlers.

“What’s keepin’ you up / Mama? / What’s keepin’ you up / My love?” Rutherford sings.

It’s dark, yet sweet and subtle, a new angle for the band.

From the song’s serenity, the verse breaks in a moment of weakness. A quick rhythm spills out of Rutherford.

“Same old conversation, can’t turn the TV station / Your favorite broken records, they’re always in rotation / I try to lift your spirit and give you motivation / Your love to me is sacred, no, nothing can replace it,” Rutherford pleads.

It’s a lovingly desperate attempt at comfort masked by the band’s generally controlled disposition—a kind of lullaby.

“Mama Drama” represents everything that the band does right. It provides a refreshing take on its sound and lyricism, backed by a certain level of depth.

With a gem here and there, (((((ultraSOUND))))) is ultimately an album for the comfort of longtime fans or people who enjoy listening to music that feels like smoking a cigarette while reminiscing on a foggy summer night.

But for those who seek something more—something with more heart and soul—it’s a better bet to spend an hour on something else.