Seventeen years is a long time to do anything—let alone front a band with a name that sounds like a nervous breakdown. But Steve Bays, ever the caffeinated philosopher, is finally closing the book on Hot Hot Heat, and unlike most farewell tours, this one actually feels kind of zen.
“The announcement’s made it feel official,” Bays says, like someone realizing his apartment lease is up and the boxes are real this time. “I think about it now like it’s a life choice… I’m actually closing doors.”
But don’t mistake that for nostalgia. Bays is about as interested in looking back as a shark is in doing yoga. “It’s dangerous,” he warns. “I’ve got a critical mind—I can go deep down rabbit holes, man. I’ll watch a documentary on peak oil and think about it for six months straight.”
Which is maybe why Hot Hot Heat never sounded like anyone else. Even in 1999, a moment he calls “one of the worst periods in rock history,” they had the gall to add a keyboard. “It was still grunge world,” Bays recalls. “Everyone was burnt out on synths because the ‘80s overdid it, but we thought, why not?”
Why not, indeed. The result was a band that walked the line between skinny-tie new wave, spazzy post-punk, and whatever it is that happens when four Type-A personalities all want the spotlight. “Honestly, I’m surprised we lasted 17 years,” Bays says. “Everyone wanted to be the star. But maybe that’s what made it exciting.”
Now, with the final, self-titled Hot Hot Heat album in the rearview, Bays is ready to get on with the rest of his artistic life. “I don’t want to make one album every two years,” he says. “I want to make a few albums a year.” Cue the side projects: Fur Trade, Mounties, and collabs with folks like Fitz, Diplo, and Steve Aoki. “Diplo called me at 1 a.m. and said, ‘We need you on this.’ I drank half a bottle of wine and did the vocals in 15 minutes.”
The result is a man who now chases inspiration, not press cycles. “I just want to wake up excited to make something—music, a photo, a mix,” he says. “That’s what I care about. If I’m excited, I do a better job. If I’m not, it’s garbage.”
But that doesn’t mean he’s not proud of the finale. “This is our best record,” he says without flinching. “Front to back, our greatest achievement. Of course, that’s torture. To go out on a high note—it’s like, damn, we still had it.”
The fans think so too. Feedback’s been stronger than expected, and random b-sides like “Pulling Levers” are getting love from corners he didn’t expect. “That one felt like ten of our favorite songs jammed together,” he says. “I thought, screw it—it just feels good.”
He’s even got 32 unreleased tracks sitting on a hard drive, collecting dust and low-key petitions from fans. “Maybe one day,” he shrugs. “I sent them to our manager, and he basically had a panic attack. But I’d love to go back and mix them. It’s like playing with old clay.”
In the meantime, he’s headed to Nova Scotia with a mobile rig to finish not one but two Mounties albums and a new Fur Trade record. “If the rig works, great. If not, I’ll come home and finish it there. Either way, I’m moving forward.”
No ego, no fake goodbyes, no reunion bait—at least not yet. “Sure,” he laughs, “there’s probably a dollar figure where getting back together makes sense. Not that we’re in it for the money, but… you know.”
You know.
Listen to the full interview above and then check out the video below.
