The Neighbourhood’s Ultra-Unenthusiastic Return: “(((((ultraSOUND)))))”
Design by Sophie Parrish
By Heather Thorn
Angst is back, baby! And so is The Neighbourhood. After an almost three-year-long hiatus, The Neighbourhood has returned with their new album (((ultraSOUND))) released on Friday, November 14, 2025. This is the group’s first project in five years (following Chip Chrome & The Mono-Tones (2020)) and the group’s first release since announcing their hiatus in November 2021.
When they announced an upcoming album entitled (((((ultraSOUND))))) in October 2025, I was more than eager to listen to it after a four-year-long wait. One song into the 15-track record (((((ultraSOUND))))), I already knew it was everything I impatiently anticipated: each song is laced with The Neighbourhood’s distinct vibe—think angst, sweater weather, and Tumblr circa 2013-2015. In this way, the album delivers everything it promises. That being said, the album falls short by being utterly average; it fails to sonically invent beyond The Neighbourhood’s sound established in their discography. Instead, ((ultraSOUND))) feels like it depends on the group’s pre-existing aesthetic, albums, and fanbase to do the work for it. Regardless, my initial standouts of (((((ultraSOUND))))) were “Hula Girl,” “OMG,” and “Private.”
The album’s first track, “Hula Girl,” is beachy, hypnotizing, and reminiscent of the group’s 2015 album Wiped Out! The bass is smooth, pulsing behind frontman Jesse Rutherford’s soft vocals and the plucked guitar that texturizes the song into 4 minutes of pure pleasure for the ears.
“OMG,” the album’s second track, is—dare I say—my favorite off the record. The song swims in “black and white and grey,” savoring The Neighbourhood’s dark aesthetic as it ruminates on a young love… As a long-time fan of the group, I can’t help but think of Rutherford and Devon Lee Carlson’s six-year-long relationship that lasted from 2015 to 2021. Lyrics such as “All my life, dying to survive / I just want to smile the way I used to” and “By your side, together on the ride / Twister or a tidal wave? / Rain or shine, you’re always on my mind” point to Rutherford’s reminiscence, taking the angst-laiden song to new heights. “OMG” offers a departure from the group’s melancholic style, an effect emphasized by the song’s focus on Rutherford’s vocals rather than reliance on the guitar or drums to carry out the track. The bridge’s lyrics “Oh my God, I used to love you when / I was younger than I’ve ever been” completely hooked me, a testament to The Neighbourhood’s dark and alluring lyricism that continues to captivate listeners.
“Private” is the first and only single off the album. It’s moody and grungy, verging on psychedelic rock with a sound that reminds me of the singer Eyedress. “Private” plays with the roles of desire and restraint in a relationship, walking the line between privacy and wanting someone all for yourself. The chorus’s intermittent blurts of “Shh, keepin’ it private / Uh-huh / Shh, keepin’ it private” serve as an inescapable earworm that itches my brain long after listening.
(((((ultraSOUND))))) is an underdog of an album—it may need a few listens to finally reel you in, but it grows on you. First appearing unassuming without any catchy hits or highly notable tunes, the record boasts tracks such as “Planet,” “Rabbit,” “Daisy Chain,” “Zombie,” and “Mute,” which ensure you re-play the album to get the same hit of dopamine from the first listen.
“Planet” jumps into investigating a breakup, searching past the current “damage,” and drama for the good stuff. The opening lines, “You used to find me so attractive / I thought we were the perfect package,” immediately position the relationship as sour. Rutherford’s voice is assertive as it bounces in the chorus, “I’ma say what I say and mean it / Not worried ’bout being nice / I ain’t tryna be wrong or right / Gotta make a sacrifice.” On the flipside is the song’s outro, ever-questioning and insecure: “Who do you trust? / Who do you love? / How many trips around the sun? / Who do you trust? / Who do you love? / How many ways can I tell you?” Rutherford seamlessly unravels his confident facade as the song ends, leaving you wondering if he’s really over the relationship or still thinking about how it ended.
“Rabbit” indulges sadness, exploring deep emotional distress. The lyricism aches in melancholy: “Tired of waking up, sick of feeling down / Always feeling down / Color me hollow.” The chorus gets to the root of the issue, “Time and time again, I get to wondering if it’d never happened / Would I be somebody else entirely or would I be happier?”
Angst radiates in every second of “Daisy Chain,” an exploration of a relationship so intimate and perfect until it’s broken. “When it was real, it’s all that I could feel,” Rutherford sings, “until it went away.” So consumed by the relationship—one in which both partners feel so comfortable they cut each other’s hair without a mirror—the narrator doesn’t notice the sinking ship “goin’ down / Slow.” The blindside is a riddle: “What did tomorrow say to yesterday to chase her underground?” And at the 2 minute mark, my favorite part, “Daisy Chain” flips you on your back until you’re levitating; Rutherford’s vocals verge on groaning as the song tilts into another realm—which is, spoiler alert, just as moody.
“Zombie” kicks some life back into the album with its opening lyrics, “Live feed, IV inside me / I need to find peace in my being” backed by an upbeat rhythm. Despite the energetic beat, “Zombie” finds a trance-like state in the narrator as Rutherford expresses desperation for attention: “Love me, hug me, save me / Hate me, break me, degrade me / Pay mе and change me to what you want / Come on, comе on (Ta-da-da, da-da-da) / Use me, accuse me, abuse me.” The song begs to be broken, used, abused and the chorus “Lucid dreamer, insomniac / I’m losing sleep, would you call me back? / I’m glued to the screen like a zombie, yeah,” points to an ultimately toxic relationship—one worth losing yourself for, if only to get validating attention.
Second-to-last on (((((ultraSOUND))))), “Mute” riffs off of the album’s established themes of numbness, one’s preoccupation with thoughts, and drowning right in front of someone with the chorus-turned-confession, “I don’t hear a word you say / It’s gettin’ kind of loud in my hеad right now, right now.” During these lines, Rutherford’s vocals are addicting and beg for this part of the song to be played over and over again.
(((((ultraSOUND))))) is, in the end, an album that falls short due to its lack of excitement. While it meets expectations, it lacks any experimental, surprising, or riveting factor. Compared to The Neighbourhood’s star-studded Chip Chrome and the Mono-Tones (2020), ever-perfect Hard to Imagine The Neighbourhood Ever Changing (2018), smash-hit Wiped Out! (2015), or I Love You. (2013), this album is utterly unexceptional. There are no captivating hits that stick with you immediately; instead, (((ultraSOUND))) feels like it relies on The Neighbourhood’s established aesthetic to carry its load.
“Sweater Weather,” the group’s 2013 single, is the fourth most-streamed song of all time on Spotify with over 2 billion streams—and for good reason. It captures a specific vibe that people come back to year after year: a certain sense of nostalgia and something un-nameable. Unlike “Sweater Weather,” (((((ultraSOUND))))) has nothing that sticks with you—at least yet.
The album also falls short in terms of who plays on the record: it’s The Neighbourhood’s original lineup: Jesse Rutherford’s, guitarists Zach Abels and Jeremy Freedman, bassist Mikey Margott, and drummer Brandon Fried. Brandon Fried was previously removed from the band in November 2022 when The Marias frontwoman Maria Zardoya came forward about his inappropriate unsolicited behavior. Along with announcing Fried’s firing, The Neighbourhood stated Brandon Fried would focus on sobriety and thanked Zardoya for coming forward.
Now, The Neighbourhood has brought back Brandon Fried… and I have to wonder why. Why now? Why fire him just to bring him back? Typically I have little issue with separating art from its artist, but I can’t help but consider Brandon Fried’s return to the group.
(((((ultraSOUND))))) is also The Neighbourhood’s first release since lead vocalist Jesse Rutherford’s problematic and very much public relationship with Billie Eilish. The couple, who dated from late 2022 to May 2023, first met in 2017 when Eilish was 16 and Jesse Rutherford was 26.
I can’t help but wonder about the underwhelming promotion The Neighbourhood has done for their hiatus return and (((ultraSOUND))). They announced a new album on October 23, 2025, releasing it about 3 weeks later on November 14, 2025. Why the abrupt roll-out? Is The Neighbourhood trying to lay low in order to run away from publicity about the group’s problematic actions?
Ultimately, I’m diagnosing this album with a severe case of unenthusiasm. While a great album in terms of everything you could ask of The Neighbourhood—downplayed emotion, production, and a general moodiness— (((((ultraSOUND))))) is unfortunately nothing special within their discography. It doesn’t worm into your ear; instead, it relies on The Neighbourhood’s established sound to carry it. There’s nothing overtly exciting about the album except for the fact that it’s another The Neighbourhood album.