Now I love me some Flaming Lips. It comes as a surprise to casual fans of the Lips that the band has been going on for over 25 years now. And this month, a decade since what was debatably their magnum opus The Soft Bulletin, they release…Embryonic? Kind of a bugged out name for a bugged out album, and this is the weirdest the band’s been since they’ve gotten a piece of the limelight.
Embryonic’s a double album. And though it sounds terrifying at 73 minutes, it all fits onto one disc. However, two discs give the artist the opportunity to explore sonic soundscapes a la London Calling or “The White Album.” (Or it’s just that double albums sell for more and frontman Wayne Coyne just likes money). But that’s just the hopeless romantic in me.
For longtime Lips fans, it’s best described as a return to mid 90’s Flaming Lips, reminiscent of Transmissions from the Satellite Heart and Clouds Taste Metallic, with that unpredictable, raucous sound, mixed with Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots style electronic warbles, wurbles, and weebles (who wobble, but don’t fall down). For casual fans, picture Yoshimi on drugs… okay more drugs. And for people who haven’t heard The Flaming Lips, picture a unicorn impaling The Kaiser (or whatever your imagination comes up with, really). Maybe a bit of MGMT. Actually, Wesleyan’s golden children make an appearance on only one song, but the MGMT fuzzy electronic vibe is omnipresent. The song they’re on (titled “Worm Mountain”) is a good stompalong affair.
Actually, I should address that about now. A lot of the album isn’t catchy. At all. It’s very textured and layered and not much about melodies so much as just, meandering around until the song just ceases to exist. Not great for people looking for the sing along hit of the summer (who, judging by the blasts of autumnal foliage, are also a good season off anyway), but great for music nutters, such as myself.
I’ll throw fans of slightly more obscure music a bone by mentioning the strong krautrock influence. For the five of you who got what the hell that meant, I’ll elaborate by saying it sounds like they’re either paying a loving tribute to Can’s Tago Mago or they’re horribly plagiarizing Can’s Tago Mago. For people scratching their heads at the word krautrock it’s psychedelic jamming, slightly funky tones, post-punk and some electronic work (in the Lips’ case, a lot of electronic work).
Coyne’s vocals are a nice affect, warbling (warble: really, that word is the serious journalist’s best friend. Anyway, the fact that I’ve had to use that word twice in this review really says something about the album) in an almost sweetly off kilter manner through the sonic landscapes. I say “almost” because Coyne’s vocals have always been one of the most annoying parts of the band. Really, that “naïve” delivery that he does just gets somewhat tiring after a while. We get it, your naïve style belies a deeper message. My personal grudge aside, it seems to compliment the music sufficiently.
Where does it all leave us? 73 minutes later, it could leave you roughly 4.3 miles from where you started, if you started walking in one direction as soon as you hit the play button, and kept up a nice clip. That would also give you the chance to listen to Embryonic again on your walk back to where you started, a good thing indeed. It’s nowhere near the album of the year (I assure you, this was a damn good year for music), and it’s a grower (that is to say, it’s an album that will grow on you, not an erection, nor an erection joke, for those are far beneath my journalistic integrity). Overall, an intriguing effort.
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