This Flaming Lips fest is both exhilarating and exhausting, and I’m only two albums in.
These guys pack a lot of ideas into a given song. While the tunes are still principally guitar-driven, each track is heavily layered. This album steps away from the shoe-gazerness of the previous release in my collection.
The psychedelia is still right upfront, with Wayne Coyne pondering the expanses of the universe, the human mind and a whole lot of other things only coherent to him (if anyone). The strings (guitar, piano or simulated) wash around his rough, urgent vocals.
Again, the band surprise me with their relative discipline on this collection. I erroneously pigeon-holed them as want to flights of fancy, but heard in context, each track makes aural sense. Thankfully the lads keep away from the looping machine.
My only substantive criticism is the sheer overwhelmingness of these albums. It is hard to digest it all in a day of listening. But I’ll keep trying.
File under: Cop a’ earful