Record #164: The Flaming Lips – The Soft Bulletin (1999)

Too often, The Soft Bulletin’s significance is attributed to the creative leap forward it was for the Flaming Lips. It marked the moment the acid-dropping punks decided to get serious and make some seriously beautiful pop music.

And while that’s true, it discounts the strength the album holds on its own…

Personally, the first Lips record I ever heard was 2009’s Embryonic, which played more like the psychedelic soundtrack to a 1950’s sci-fi horror movie than anything the Flaming Lips would have turned out.

And that, along with “Do You Realize,” “She Don’t Use Jelly,” and the Postal Service’s cover of “Suddenly Everything has Changed” were my context for hearing this record.

And I instantly loved it.

The urgent, overdriven drums, the synth strings, the sprinkling harp, the extended instrumental passages, and Wayne Coyne’s shaking, wild-eyed voice that ties everything together. It’s an album of unveiled optimism, young love, friendship, and occasionally drugs (this is the Flaming Lips, isn’t it?) that begs the listener to live and be alive, even in the face of hopelessness.

And fourteen years later, there hasn’t been much to rival moments like the opening strains of “The Race for the Prize” or the instrumental groove in “The Spark that Bled” or the closing crescendo of “Feeling Yourself Disintegrate.” It’s an absolute classic, regardless of its context in the Flaming Lips’ or anyone else’s discography.

Record #112: Cymbals of Guitars – Why There Are Mountains (2009)

why there are mountains
This album essentially sounds like what would happen if a mixtape with all my favorite bands were dropped in a washing machine and jumbled all together

There are flashes of late Fugazi, TNT era Tortoise, Modest Mouse fury, My Bloody Valentine guitar wash, horn section slow jams a la Anathallo, Radiohead-esque effect pedal jams, and Arcade Fire’s indie stomp–sometimes in the same song. It’s a wild ride, and well worth it.

Record #40: Beck – Modern Guilt (2008)

And here, we have my third favorite Beck record (my second is The Information, but it only sells on vinyl as a $200 box set. No way, rec execs). As I mentioned in my review of 2002’s Sea Change, Beck’s relationship with his producers is often much more like that of collaborators than the typical artist-producer working order. Here, he enlists Danger Mouse, of Gnarls Barkley fame, to spice things up a bit. And from the get go, his influence is obvious.

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Record #39: Beck – Sea Change, 2002

In the context of his diverse and expansive discography, saying that Sea Change is my favorite Beck record is a weighty claim to make. But, I make it anyway. True, it may be his least Beck-ish release, free of his deadpan rap stretching of the English language; and at times it might feel like longtime Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich might be calling most of the shots here (string arrangements and analog delay abound). But on Sea change, Mr. Hansen proves that his emotional range stretches far beyond self deprecation and a generous helping of irony.

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