at war no more

In 2002, two of my favorite musical acts released albums which were for me, depressingly average. Since then, one of them released an album in 2005 which I have yet to hear, so I’ll reserve further judgment until I’ve heard the ’05 release.

Which leaves me with The Flaming Lips and their new album, At War with the Mystics. For a number of years I was fanatical about these Oklahoma misfits. I was turned on to them in ’91 or ’92 by a friend of a good friend. Tom and I sat in Jenny’s Chicago apartment and had our heads rearranged by Oh My Gawd!!!... The Flaming Lips. I believe we both rushed out and bought this trippy 1987 masterpiece as soon as we returned from our Chicago visit, along with 1989’s Telepathic Surgery.

Happily, within a few months of my first exposure, the Lips released Hit to Death in the Future Head, my feelings for which can be summed up by paraphrasing Jack Black: “If you’re wearing shoes right now you might want to take ‘em off, unless you want to get your socks blown right through them.” HtDitFH parked in my CD changer and seldom left, except to travel to players at other friends’ houses in my evangelical zeal to expose as many people as possible to the Lips’ unique brand of quirky-yet-aggressive psycho-deliciousness. Tom and I incorporated a couple of their songs into our band’s repertoire of covers, and we went to see them at a mid-sized club where their Frigidaire-sized stacks left my ears ringing for three days (I got a little worried for a while... the ringing went away but there was probably at least a little permanent damage). I loved the next few albums as well, as they explored wildly diverse sounds and styles.

Then came Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. Critics placed it high on their year-end lists, and "Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon (Utopia Planitia)" even earned them a Grammy.

...and yet it left me, well, kind of bored.

I’m not saying that I immediately embraced every Lips album before Yoshimi, but I always found something to like in each new direction they took. But Yoshimi just never grew on me. It wasn’t terrible, but I’m definitely less forgiving of (what I view as) mediocrity from a favorite artist than I am of truly awful output from artists I’m less emotionally invested in. I've sold many halfway-decent CDs for grocery money while keeping some really bad albums in my collection. (In those cases there’s also definitely an element of “This is so bad I have to keep it for like, historical value.”)

Also it added (imagined) insult to (nonexistent) injury that some of the rave reviews from the aforementioned critics hailed Yoshimi as the Lips’ finest work, which “of course” I took as fightin’ words. Yeah, I know... I’ve got to stop taking this stuff personally.

Which is all just a sample of the baggage I brought to my first hearing of At War with the Mystics. I’m delighted to report that it’s a hell of a fun record; it takes me somewhere. The artificial sheen of Yoshimi has been replaced with music which sounds like it was actually played by humans. There are still plenty of electronics in the mix but there are also real drums, nice warm electric piano and lots and lots of guitar. There hasn’t been this much guitar on a Flaming Lips album in ten years.

There’s a spark, an energy that runs through At War with the Mystics. The joyful opening romp of “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” leads into the sto(m)p-time Bonzo drumming of “Free Radicals,” then slides into the Love-like groove of “The Sound of Failure”. The album never settles into one sound for too long… shimmering psychedelic ballads, anthemic electronic landscapes, 70s rock/funk; and throughout, an undeniable Brian Wilson vibe.

In other words it’s a really good record, I’m glad I bought it. And now that my snit is over, I’ll probably even try to see them on tour… but this time, I’m bringing earplugs.

a 7th-grade observational comic would kill with this one in home room

So I'm eating a bowl of delicious Post Grape-Nuts this morning and I'm wondering, why do they call them Grape-Nuts? They don't taste like grapes, they don't taste like nuts. Doesn't it sound like a pair of euphemisms for the same thing? I mean, why not just call them Nard-Balls?

huh-huh. huh. Thanks folks, I'll be in detention all week!

woefully unhip, update

On this morning's drive I heard "Unwritten" again (still like it, it's really well produced) and the first 15-20 seconds of some Whiny White Boy noise ballad which I had to turn off. There's only so much I can put up with. Anyhoo, over the last 3 1/2 days that adds up to right around 20% music, 80% not music if you figure 4 minutes per song. So during morning and afternoon drive time at least, you could say the mix of "The Mix" is just about 20/80.

I'm woefully unhip: a brief foray into Hit Radio

So for the past few days during drive time I've been listening to hit radio. I admit, it's because it's pledge time on NPR and well, I suck and have only sent them money once.

Anyway, it's been quite a while since I listened to commercial radio and man, there's even less music played during drive time than I ever remember. I have heard a lot of talk, and of course a lot of commercials. From a quick google on radio formats, this station, "Mix 93.3" probably falls into the "Contemporary Hit Radio" format (what used to be Top 40). The talk is mostly good-natured banter about TV shows, celebrity news, etc. This is at least bearable because it doesn't revolve around prank phone calls or other mean-spirited nonsense. Yes I'm a cranky bastard but I don't like listening to cruel radio... go figure.

I do enjoy a dose of slick pop music every once in a while. "There are worse things than pop music," I always say. OK, in truth I'm an absolute sucker for it. But in my non-scientific study of morning and afternoon drive time over the past 3 days, probably a total of 120 minutes, I have mostly been denied my bubblegum fix. I have heard seven songs, total. Not seven different songs, mind you. What I've heard is three songs once each and one song four times.

I can't believe I'm about to analyze these, but here are the songs I heard once apiece (I admit I had to do some googling to get the song titles and artist names):

"Grillz," Nelly. A hip hop ode to the jewelry in Mr. Nelly's dental work. It's entertaining enough to hear... once.

"Unwritten," Natasha Bedingfield. A very catchy song with a positive vibe. Ayla (the unusually tall basketball-playing straight-A-student) sang this on Idol a week before getting voted off by the C students of America. I actually like this and could probably hear this a number of times before getting tired of it.

"My Humps," Black Eyed Peas. I'd previously heard a few seconds of this in a phone commercial. A female rapper/singer describes the attractive qualities of her "hump(s)" and "lady lumps," the gifts they bring and her struggle dealing with the apparently unwanted non-gift-related attention she receives from men as a result.

Finally, the song I've heard four times is "SOS" by Rihanna. It's built on top of a sample from Soft Cell's "Tainted Love." Even though I've heard it four times (and now have repeated that fact three times) I couldn't begin to tell you what it's about. Something about needing to be rescued from something. From what the DJs say I get the feeling this song is probably all about the dancing in the video.

Thankfully, pledge week is almost over and I will soon take my deadbeat ass back to NPR.