“This car is like acid punk rock while shootin’ heroin with Martian Jesus!”
[Video][Website]
[3.92]
Anthony Easton: If this was half as interesting as Wayne Coyne thinks he is, then it would be a third as good as that Knife song we reviewed last week.
[3]
Alfred Soto: These guys are the same age when the law firm of Townshend, Dylan, and McCartney recognized how market forces in the eighties demanded teased hair and syndrums. Now it’s short hair and video game effects. The older guys rarely pined (in song) for lost youth, though, so when your text becomes subtext you know it’s time to record an album worthy of Pitchfork’s 8.5.
[2]
Rebecca A. Gowns: I like the way that they created anxiety in the song’s sounds that feels specific to the lyrics, like bwip bwip bwip bwip, which sounds like a sun blowing up. And the repetitive musical phrases that mirror the repetitive lyrics. I don’t like Wayne Coyne; he seems like a dipshit. Cool song, though.
[7]
Patrick St. Michel: There was a time when Wayne Coyne and crew could really deliver on the peppy music/downer lyrics relationship, and The Flaming Lips managed some great songs that found joy in inevitable demise. Even though their music is still apparently car-commercial gold, they now just provide hyperactive music while spouting off a bunch of happy words while also working in one potentially ominous line (the titular bit) and hope the listener can connect the dots. The annoying blip-out near the end doesn’t help matters much.
[3]
Iain Mew: If it’s worth noting that Amanda Palmer has done a lot of terrible things each time we cover her, it’s definitely worth doing the same for Wayne Coyne (I am not linking the two arbitrarily). That whole saga was gross, and it wasn’t even an original piece for him (look up Colourmusic, or spare yourself and don’t). The song we’re reviewing? It’s relaxed in a way that the Lips haven’t sounded since Clouds Taste Metallic, or maaybe “Buggin'”, but inconsequential in a way they didn’t even sound then. The bleepy outro is particularly tame.
[4]
Brad Shoup: (God willing) He’s decades away, but I’m calling it: Wayn-O will one day record a croaky graveward-bound album to set Christgau’s toes a-tapping. Years of hollering at festival crowds to make gila monster noises seem to’ve robbed him of all but the light crust of his middle register. The Lips kicked up one hell of a kosmische racket on Embryonic, but have since coasted on tributes both to and from. I’m willing to give them the victory lap. But now we’re back to Lips sans collaboration. And it’s “Talkin’ ‘Bout The Smiling Deathporn Immortality Blues” sans those gauche basso croaks and all the wonderfully superfluous instrumental touches save that blasted harp. Ivins is still pinching off eighths, and the mood is still jovial with a touch of your fucking life is ebbing away go out and beeeeeeeee. But Kliph seems to be drumming on felt (those handclaps weren’t always necessary), Drozd’s guitar yowls like a feral cat neither of you can locate, and Coyne’s happy to take a second-half break to die in every arcade console ever. I do hope that Erykah Badu is enjoying this.
[5]
Jer Fairall: The Flaming Lips often sound like they are having way more fun making their music than I have ever had listening to it, but the Nuggets-y crunch of this one is more inviting than usual, though still not enough than when the final minute of equipment malfunction takes over, I remain mostly grateful for not having to hear Wayne Coyne’s mewling vocals any longer.
[6]
Ian Mathers: I am deeply hostile to arguments that any song or artist is somehow “fooling” people; I know, in my heart of hearts, that the people who like or love the Flaming Lips really do like or love them. But I can’t seem to turn off the part of my brain that just keeps yelling “THIS IS BULLSHIT” every time I listen to their music. This one could be a loop for most of its length (and not in the good way), which means the only feature of interest is the latest installment of the Wit and Wisdom of Wayne Coyne. And Wayne Coyne is an annoying piece of shit, so…
[1]
Edward Okulicz: Apparently this doesn’t feature on the standard issue forthcoming Flaming Lips album. This makes sense, because based on how it sounds, it doesn’t sound like a promotional tool for a record, it sounds like a commercial for a soft drink, all giddy and oppressively perky with no nutritional value. Or maybe the “run and run and run” section suggests it’s for an energy drink. The Flaming Lips have some good songs, and some bad songs too, but until now they’ve never had one where Wayne Coyne’s voice was the least irritating thing about it — take a bow, annoying and artlessly-placed distorted bleep noises.
[2]
Scott Mildenhall: This is going to sound so good when the BBC use it to soundtrack an ad promoting Things On TV This Summer.
[7]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: This is a mess. I know, it’s a Flaming Lips song and they are falling down the psychedelic manhole headfirst yet again and that has to be exciting for us all on some level and uh Wayne Coyne’s Twitter account but this just feels like a mess. There are more ideas in “Sun Blows Up Today” than there are in full albums – listen to how the pulsing programming and lo-fi guitar performances recall a group like Anamanaguchi in the digital freakout stakes – but there’s far too many cooks in this kitchen. An extra [1] for getting this in a Hyundai advert at the Super Bowl, obviously.
[5]
Zach Lyon: Awesome, this seamlessly mixes instrumentation from a standard 2006 car commercial with vocals and lyrics from a standard 2012 car commercial. I love it when car commercial bands blend together retro car commercial vibes with modern car commercial vibes. Wait, this is actually in a car commercial? Sellouts!
[2]