The Flaming Lips ... Naked!

November 27, 2005... Recently, I saw The Fearless Freaks, Bradley Beesley's documentary about The Flaming Lips. It is the best rockumentary I have ever seen. Sure, Beesley had great music to work with, and, as his film shows, some of the aw-shucks-nicest subjects one could ask for, too. But Beesley used a technicolour dime bag of cinematic tricks to splice those elements together in a visually arresting way.

All that aside, I seem to be out-of-synch with majority opinion on the Flaming Lips' 1999 album, The Soft Bulletin. I do not think it was the "most important" or "best" record of the 1990s. Nope. Not unless you discount all the other ones that were more important or better.

One of the things you can't help but notice about The Soft Bulletin is that it is a very cinematic sounding album. The arrangements are ambitious, like in a movie soundtrack, and there are great twists of melody that are hard to predict. Oh, and the songs are heavily orchestrated. Sort of. And that is problemo numero uno.

Orchestral accompaniment on The Soft Bulletin is provided by a synthesizer that sounds horribly synthetic. In fact, in song after song, one could be forgiven for thinking that a track had been set aside for the sort of hissing white noise one encounteres in a dentist's office, or perhaps for background music from films nobody wants to see. And that is probelmo numero two.

In The Fearless Freaks, one fan says that the Flaming Lips have great taste, but some of the things that seem to have inspired The Soft Bulletin are actually quite distasteful. We're talking 1970s top forty radio, here, folks. Not the album-oriented stuff your long-haired older brother'd listen to on FM late at night, but the sort of schlock on the AM dial that'd crackle through the single speaker on the front dashboard of your dad's turd coupe. That's not good taste, folks. That's child abuse. But wait, it gets worse...

We're also talking soundtracks to Movies of the Week, here, and overwrought animated Disney flicks. And in "What is the Light?" the synthetic brass plays a part that sounds like an out-take from an episode of the 1970s firefighter drama Emergency. Yecch!

The album's absolute low point, though, is the piano solo in "Waiting for a Superman." It sounds like it was played on the upright piano in an elementary school music class--which is appropriate considering how thoroughly the melody reminds me of the theme to Degrassi Junior High.

The Flaming Lips - Waitin' for a Superman

So, do I hate The Soft Bulletin? No! There are things about the album that I absolutely love.

I have always loved vocalist Wayne Coyne's cracked warble; doubly so on this album where his lyrics have taken a turn away from the silliness and superficiality of the band's past, and toward the more honest and heartfelt. This is a very human record. The songs make me feel all warm and teary-eyed, which is a very refreshing for a rock record to do.

Listen to the lyrics to "Waiting for a Superman" again. Better still, check out the lyrics to "Spiderbite Song," wherein Coyne expresses relief about various friends overcoming adversity: "I was glad that it didn't destroy you / How sad that would be / 'Cause if it destroyed you / It would destroy me." Nice!

The drumming is pretty awesome, too. Steven Drozd may or may not be the world's most inventive or tight drummer, but he definitely sounds like one of the world's most powerful drummers on The Soft Bulletin. Mind you, some of that power derives from being louder in the mix than a drummer "should be" and distorting like a mofo. But what a terrific idea!

Indeed, the production, including the decision to mix the drums so ear-splittingly loud, is the one other thing about the album that is a sheer, unadulterated pleasure. Echoes abound. And, here and there, disembodied electronic beeps sound in one ear, then the other. Elsewhere, ambient sounds, crickets chirping and sprinklers spitting, are added to the mix. Totally pyschedelic, man...

The album has other virtues, too, but they are all stained.

The song order and pacing, for example, is nearly perfect. The intro to the cinematic tenth track, "Gash," sounds like a climax. The astoundingly good eleventh track, "Feeling Yourself Disintegrate," sounds like the sort of song that would play as the credits roll. And the twelfth track, "Sleeping on the Roof," is a soothing instrumental to accompany the patrons as they leave the theatre. Perfect... Except there is a track thirteen and a track fourteen--alternate mixes of songs heard earlier on the album--which ruin the mood.

I should add that the album drags a bit even before it gets to the tenth track. If it were up to me, I'd lose the third track, "The Spark That Bled," altogether. It, alone among all the songs on the album doesn't hold together well, and sounds very much like a series of riffs forced together. With "The Spark That Bled" out of the way, the tenth track would arrive six minutes earlier, before my attention starts to wander.

The Flaming Lips - A Spoonful Weighs a Ton

Once, The Soft Bulletin was on my to-sell pile. It isn't anymore. It's a keeper, for sure. It's just not as good as everyone says it is.

If it was shorter and the synthesizer bits were replaced by guitar and bass, or perhaps not replaced at all... Or, if it was shorter and the synthesizer bits were replaced by a real orchestra, like in the Moody Blues' Days of Future Passed...

Completely naked or dressed to the nines, The Soft Bulletin would dazzle. Unfortunately, she's wearing polyester instead.

*****

I wanted to add a couple bonus tracks by other bands that I am reminded of when listening to The Soft Bulletin, but I don't have access to any late-period Led Zeppelin and I'm too lazy to find the Bark Psychosis song I have in mind. Instead, here's a track from earlier in the Flaming Lips' career, when things were a little less serious and much less synthethic.

The Flaming Lips - Be My Head

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Talking About a Revolution

November 21, 2005... I've been listening to twenty-somethings talk revolution for decades now. Excuse me for being cynical.

Husker Du - Real World

"Real World" was the most cynical song I could think of. It is the first track on Husker Du's Metal Circus EP, released in 1983. If you're feeling cynical, the whole first side of the EP might appeal to you, as most of the lyrics seem to have been written in reaction to one sort of earnest, naive, oppressive loudmouth or another. If you like jangly folk-psychedelic-rock, like the Byrds, say, and are not afraid of distorted guitars and growly vocals, you might like the whole EP. It was a ground-breaking work of art for its time and still sounds fresh and urgent to me.

Can anyone else out there think of any other good, cynical songs? The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again" is an obvious one. Any others?

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As I See It

November 17, 2005... Went to a gig last night and am still having hard time processing it. Let me set the scene for you...

Fact one: the gig is in a small-to-medium-sized Canadian city with a large university.

Fact two: the headlining act sounds a bit like Public Image Limited or the Slits or Gang of Four.

Gang of Four - To Hell With Poverty (2005 Remake)

Now, based on those facts, imagine in your mind's eye what the audience looks like.

Are you seeing young people with backpacks full of books? Good. Yes, the audience is comprised of university students.

Now, what "colour" are these people? That's right: they white.

But what's this I see? The second band on the bill is on stage setting up, and there ain't a white face among them. Seriously. The drummer? That motherfucker is black. And the bassist and the guitarist, too.

I hustle in a little closer, tryna figure out what's going on.

With all those guys loitering around on stage with their hats pulled down over their eyes, the band kinda looks like a hip-hop crew. But what would a hip-hop crew be doing on a bill with a headliner that sounds like Public Image Limited or the Slits or Gang of Four?

In my mind's eye, I fantasize that these guys, who are from out-of-town and completely unknown, also sound like Public Image Limited or the Slits or Gang of Four, and will proceed to effortlessly blow the headliners and the rest of us away.

Bad Brains - Banned in DC

Yeah, I imagine to myself, these fuckers could be the Bad Brains of the new millennium: "black" guys who take a "white" form of music and play it better than anybody else. The Bad Brains did it with punk rock. These guys will do it with post-post-punk or dance-punk or whatever you wanna call it. They know they're good, and they're testing the ability of a white audience to see beyond the whole race thing and just acknowledge good music when they hear it...

Then the band starts to play a song...

At least, I think they're playing a song. Certainly, there is ... sound ... coming from the stage.

The drummer, who now has his t-shirt pulled over his head like a hood, leads the attack. "Yo, we just here to spread our kinda love, you know what I mean?" he says into the mic before launching into an unsteady and ultimately lacklustre beat.

The bassist joins in with a series of notes that seem purpose chosen to kill all human movement.

And the guitarist... I mean, is he trying to make his guitar sound that bad? Or does he have a different set list from everyone else in the band? Wait a minute, though, he is wearing a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt. There's hope yet. Maybe these guys are the Great Black Hope of indie rock in 2005. Maybe they mean to sound that bad.

What? What's that? Oh no! Those guys loitering around with they hats pulled down ova they eyes? They have mics in their hands now. They're MCs. There's going to be hip-hop.

EL-P - Jukie Skate Rock

Only this hip-hop isn't good. No, this hip-hop has an unsteady, lacklustre beat and a bassline that seems "purpose chosen to kill all human movement."

The MCs are okay, I suppose. I can't unnerstand what they're saying, but they are saying it fast and it does seem to have a rhythm to it. I'm just not sure it's the same rhythm as any of the other people on the stage.

Three songs into the set, the band does a number whose lyrics consist of nothing but the band's name spelled-out, again and again.

Suddenly, in my mind's eye, I see the guys on stage with backpacks full of books. They're university students and this is a sociological experiment. You know, like let's see if white folks will lap up shit that sounds vaguely like hip-hop simply because we, the performers, are black.

I am now laughing out loud.

The song ends and the drummer takes charge again. "Yeah, [insert name of town here]. Shit, we love comin' here. It's like, comin' home, man. You know what I mean? I mean, I don't need to tell you what's goin' on here. You know what's goin' on here," he says before launching into another shaky-sounding beat.

Anyway, I think I know what's goin' on here, but, to be honest, I'm not completely sure.

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Bits of Old Rope

November 15, 2005... For the most part, I've been too busy to explore the blogosphere lately, but a few bright lights have pierced the fog of work and looking for more work that is my so-called life.

First up is Route 1, a music blog done by a chap named Erik Hogstrom in Dubuque, Iowa. Erik, who is a journalist, family man and all-around decent fellow, writes about (mostly pop) music, but doesn't actually post mp3s. Could be that whole decent fellow thing... Anyway, it was from Route 1 that I learned that the harmonica on the 1964 hit "My Boy Lollipop" was played by Rod "The Pre-Mod" Stewart. He still totally sucks, though. In fact, I heard they pumped his stomach out after one gig ... and found his head in it.

On the subject of the Television Personalities’ song "Another Rainy Day in Manchester," Erik writes:

“This unreleased live gem from 1986 lampoons The Smiths and lead singer Morrissey in particular, with startling hilarious results. In The Smiths' "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now," Morrissey complains that "I was looking for a job and then I found a job/And heaven knows I'm miserable now." (Television Personalities’ leader Dan) Treacy sings "Once I had a job, then I found a job/And then I had two jobs" in a mournful, off-key croon just like Morrissey. I laugh every time.”

Not only are the TVPs one of the bands I’ve most enjoyed becoming acquainted with over the past year, but the Smiths are one of the bands I've most wished I could forget over the past two decades, so I'm really looking forward to hearing the song.

*****

Also stumbled across an excellent review of a new Beatles biography in a Riff Raff, a music blog (mp3s not included) created by Nick Sylvester and hosted by the Village Voice.

On the subject of “where we--as human beings--would be if the Beatles hadn't existed,” Sylvester writes: “Instead of people saying, “Hey, nice Beatles-style haircut,” they'd say, “Hey, you sort of look like an asshole."

Where he goes with the idea from there is interesting and unexpected.

*****

In keeping with the lighthearted tone of today’s post, and what else has been on my mind today, here’s a humourous song by Deep Purple. Yes, that Deep Purple—they of Ian Gillan’s ear-piercing shrieks and Ritchie Blackmore’s twenty-four minute guitar solos. It's not their only intentionally humourous song, by the way.

Deep Purple - Anyone's Daughter

Back next time with indignation and self-righteousness.

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Banjo is a Percussion, Too

November 14, 2005... The Monks, a sample of whose music I posted on Saturday, was a mid-sixties band comprised of five former American GIs living in Germany. Distinguishing themselves from other rock ‘n’ roll groups of the time by sporting monks' haircuts, the band also stood out because of their use of amplified banjo in the place of rhythm guitar. What's more, in an era when the sugary sounds of “Love, Love Me Do” still echoed in the ears of most young people, the Monks were writing and playing songs with titles like “Shut Up” and “I Hate You.”

The band's only full length release, Black Monk Time, from 1965, is highly recommended. It appears to have been re-released on CD many times by many different labels.

Sitting in a café yesterday, drinking weak coffee and reading “the newspaper that shall remain nameless until it boosts its free online content again,” it suddenly dawned on me that The Fall stole the mechanical beat for their 1979 single, “Fiery Jack,” from the cartoonish, wind-up-toy Monks’ song "Boys are Boys and Girls are Choice."

I came home and sorted through my mp3s, but do not have a digital version of “Fiery Jack.” Dang. And no one else out there in the blogosphere appears to have posted it, either. That's a pretty big oversight on everybody's part, I'd say.

Anyway, what I did find was an official, declared cover of a Monks song by the Fall. The file arrived in my life labeled as "Black Monk Theme," which is the name of a Monks song, but it actually sounds more like the aforementioned “I Hate You” with Mark E. Smith incomprehensible throughout.

The Fall - Black Monk Theme (in theory)

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Holden Caulfield for Prime Minister

November 12, 2005... Bullshit has been on my mind a lot this week.

You know, like when a politician announces that his or her government is investing $2 billion in this or that worthy initiative, but, when you read the small print, the truth is that they will invest $2 billion if someone else invests $4 billion first? Yeah, that kind of bullshit.

Or, like when the President of the local Business Improvement Association (read: future politician) prattles on for four minutes about how a particular redevelopment site "offers a golden, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reinvent the city and be the catalyst that draws the critical mass of activity and dynamism that the creative class hungers for?" (Or some such shit.)

I mean, what the hell does that mean? Like, what do you want them to build on the site, dude?

This summer, I read an excellent book by Laura Penny called Your Call Is Important to Us: The Truth About Bullshit. I like the book not simply because I agree with the author’s premise that bullshit is our society’s chief product, but also because she knows how to write.

My favourite line from the book, which, I should add, I read while in the employ of a large, bureaucratic organization: "Any bureaucracy's first line of defense is verbiage that fairly repels its readers, a blend of bafflegab, boilerplate, loopholes and jargon." Word.

*****

I so enjoyed watching The Fifth Estate's documentary on the illusion of airport security this week. I particularly enjoyed the part where Hana Gartner confronted the head of the Canadian Air Transport Security Authority (CATSA) with the news that it only took her investigator twenty minutes to figure out the code needed to access all departure gates at Pearson Airport ... and the head of CATSA responded “Do you have a problem with that? Because I don’t have a problem with that. I mean, what's the problem with that?” (Or words to that effect.)

Golly, I wonder if the be-suited twit was appointed by a politician. No! No, I don't wonder at all!

The Monks - Shut Up

Uh, in case you haven't already guessed from the above, I've actually been doing some work in my official line of work this week.

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The Story of Diwali

November 2, 2005... Of course, yesterday was the first day of Diwali, a five-day festival celebrated each autumn in India and throughout the South Asian diaspora. Also known as the "Festival of the Older, Wiser Brother," Diwali dates back to the early 1960s and was inspired by the appearance of Leave it to Beaver reruns on Indian TV. The festival is of particular significance to Hindu, Jain and Sikh communities.

At the time of Diwali's inception, contrarians in some of the other religious communities in India attempted to popularize an autumnal celebration of their own called Dibeav, or "Festival of the Younger, More Impetuous Brother." Unfortunately, Dibeav never caught on.

Butthole Surfers - KUNTZ

If you haven't been to the Butthole Surfers website, you should go. It is graphically arresting and chock-a-block with downloads of the most twisted music this side of Texas.

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