The Flaming Lips ‘Embryonic’ // First Listen

FIRST LISTEN:
The Flaming Lips
‘Embryonic’
(Warners)

The Flaming Lips are back with their first ever double album. It’s 18 tracks of reassuringly ridiculous track titles and marvellously meandering space-prog. As a result, the press copies of ‘Embryonic’ come with an explanatory song-by-song guide from frontman Wayne Coyne. For the sake of objectivity, JJ Dunning rides side-saddle with the great wild-eyed weirdo…

‘Convinced Of The Hex’
Wayne says: “This was our first successful attempt at merging a low-fi distortion jam with hi-fi computer overdubs. This was the first in a series of lyrics inspired by repeated viewings of the controversial film ‘The Night Porter’ (made in 1974 by the radical Italian director Liliana Cavani). Its themes of submission and obsessions and cruelty and pleasure really put the zap on my sleep-deprived head.”
We say: It’s a bleeping, belching, squelching and woozy-sounding lurch into action for the Lips’ twelfth studio album. “That’s the difference between us” repeats Wayne over a bass line so deep and so throbbing that it could make a career in dirty movies.

‘The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine’
Wayne says: “A simple rhythmic mantra about the meaning of the concepts of power and submission and nature vs. technology – but not for defiant reasons – to be in awe of things that have power; even if it has the power to control you. To mentally get past the fear of being dominated and to embrace the realization of our helplessness.”
We say: Kicking off with a low buzz, a clattering of loadsa-bass-loadsa-treble-but-nuffin-in-between drums and a recurrence of the mysterious squelching noise from the first track, ‘The Sparrow…’ is a spacey, industrial drone. “What does it mean/to dream what you dream/to believe what you’ve seen?” we’re asked. Wow. Makes you fink, dunnit?

‘Evil’
Wayne says: “An underlying story of regretting not being able to detect and understand evil, being haunted by how kind, gentle creatures are easily overpowered by the violent, mean beings. Humans are capable of such horrible things and create so much suffering in the world.”
We say: Now things are getting really 2001, both in terms of A Space Odyssey and in terms of the Lips’ own back catalogue, as this bleak, drifting space ballad floats somewhere between a stripped back version of ‘The Soft Bulletin’’s ‘The Observer’ and the incidental sound collages of ‘Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots’.

‘Aquarius Sabotage’
Wayne says: “Another of the early freak-out jams that showed us a new way. We began to name our free-form sessions using astrological signs. We didn’t know how many we’d end up with, so this naming system was a solution to keeping track. But it quickly began to colour what the little pieces of music meant. I guess everybody already has an abstract concept in their mind that is evoked by the zodiac stuff.”
We say: Hmm, let’s see. How best to accommodate this dreamy harp sound? I know, we’ll pair it with some of the treble-iest guitars NASA has ever developed, add a drum kit made entirely of cymbals and produce it so it sounds like a thousand crystal vases smashing on a marble table. Perfect.

‘See The Leaves’
Wayne says: “A simple, menacing groove, but also a kind of grinding machine. It implies a primitive self-exploration. To understand life, we must, sadly, understand death. To know the value of love, we must try to understand the nature of evil. To know ecstasy, one must explore suffering. Crazy, panic drums by Kliph.”
We say: A hypnotic, bass-led groove that, musically, could almost be the Lips doing Led Zeppelin’s ‘Immigrant Song’ – and it’s just as upside down as that cover might be. The rhythmic bass drills deep, while Wayne soars high in harmony AND lurches in the middle somewhere with a dispassionate spoken-word drawl, “see the grass, it’s dying again”. Dark and incredible.

‘IF’
Wayne says: “A quiet response to the song ‘Evil’. It says, “yes, people are evil, it’s true”, but humans have within them the capacity to do the greatest of kindness, if they decide. Sung by Steven. Done with a little digital recorder sitting on top of the Fender Rhodes.”
We say: A two minute track that starts with shuffling sand, melting mellotrons, and a clear of the throat from Steven, who then croons, “People are evil, it’s true/but on the outside/they can be gentle too/if they decide.” Beautiful and sleepy.

‘Gemini Syringes’
Wayne says: “Features Thorsten Wörmann doing sound bites explaining some fundamental mathematical equations involving polynomial rings, but also featuring Karen O making clicking gunshot sounds.”
We say: Another bleak’n’bass-heavy creepy interlude of half-audible hissing radio transmissions that sound like commentary from the Apollo 11 crew if they’d reached the arse end of Saturn somewhere.

‘Your Bats’
Wayne says: “This song began as a free-form rock jam with Steven on drum kit, Kliph on congas and me, again, on wobbly, simple bass. Lyrics inspired again by themes of digression – accepting human nature as disturbing.”
We say: This is two and a half minutes of more crashing drums, a sinister distorted bass guitar that could easily be mistaken for a foghorn and about twelve Waynes squeaking their little hearts out.

‘Powerless’
Wayne says: “One of our longest guitar solos ever put into a song. Lyrics and mood of waiting in the dark, scared of what you might find.”
We say: The first track of any real length, ‘Powerless’’ seven minutes starts with incidental tinkles, moves into percussion that sounds like tiny paper bags exploding, reaches for and employs an egg shaker, and then abandons all reality by launching into a proto-jazz guitar durge. Obviously.

‘The Ego’s Last Stand’
Wayne says: “Strange song about standing with my mother watching a small kitten die on her porch.”
We say: Another fragmented sprawler that sounds like Talk Talkand Frank Zappahaving a chat-to-the-death about philosophy. “The only way out is to destroy all traces/or destroy yourself/there’s no way back/there’s complete devastation/oh, there’s no way out” warns Wayne. Then come the drums and an urgent crescendo that leads to a blissful, almost heavenly harmony, backed by the tweeting of birds. “Man holds a gun/there’s no explanation/he shoots at the sun” concludes Wayne.

‘I Can Be A Frog’
Wayne says: “A kind of Sonnny and Cher back-and-forth love song. Karen O makes joyful animalistic outbursts.”
We say: These are the lyrics, “She said I can be a frog, I can be a bat, I can be a bear, or I can be a cat, she said I can be a lion, I can be a guillemonster, I can be a wonder Indian, I can be a helicopter, she said I can be a wolf, I can be a finch, I can be a jaguar, or a locust on the bridge, she said I can be a monkey, I can be a tiger, I can be a tornado, knocking down your wires, well it seems like she can be anything, any kind of creature she wants to be, oh it seems like she can be anything, any kind of frog, any kind of bear, any kind of monkey, she wants to be.” Karen Odoes an impression of each animal as Wayne mentions them. Strangely, she can do a guillemonster, but not a helicopter.

‘Sagittarius Silver Announcement’
Wayne says: “Voice from beyond was added to early spooky jam. Religious choir vocal things by Steven. The lyrics imply that to surrender to our primitive desires and obsessions is the only way to pure freedom.”
We say: A plinky plonky and widdling bass lift-off leads into some uplifting harmonies above a count-up to ten (as in, the opposite of a count-down) and then the tannoy-like vocals, “We can be like they are/we can be free/free to be evil/free to believe/free to be slaves now/to this silver machine,” hence the ‘Announcement’ part of the song title, we guess…

‘Worm Mountain’
Wayne says: “A spontaneous, heavy, Lighning Bolt-style jam. MGMTjoin in with singing and shakers, freedom to fail.”
We say: A bum-rippling bass and an ear-piercing tinny-ness almost completely swallow the background choir (“on the mountain, way up high” is all we can make out), while the driving nature of the song’s groove ends in a shower of synthy strings that recall ‘I’m A Fly In A Sunbeam’ from the ‘Ego Tripping At The Gates Of Hell’ EP.

‘Scorpio Sword’
Wayne says: “The most free-form of all the early freakout jams. Initial recording goes on for about 10 minutes. This I just a piece of that. Michael on bass, Steven on wah Rhodes, Kliph doing exploding drums and me on echo 12-string guitar.”
We say: An unsettling experience that sounds like a futurized interpretation of Tim Buckley’s ‘Starsailor’. Two minutes is probably long enough.

‘The Impulse’
Wayne says: “A mellow observer voice tries to remind us to see joy in all situations and to redefine what pleasure is.”
We say: The vocoder used on this makes us think of 10cc’s ‘I’m Not In Love’ (coincidentally selected by The Lips on their ‘Late Night Tales’ compilation album), plus there’s more harp, which allows this welcome break in intensity to wallow in its own mellifluousness.

‘Silver Trembling Hands’
Wayne says: “At last, the ecstasy of following her more true animalistic urges, the “she” in the song finally gets the ultimate high”
We say: “She forgets about the fear/when she’s high,” crows Wayne through a wall of twisting effects, while explosions of bright-sparking supernovae guitars burst around him and a bass races throbbily beneath him.

‘Virgo Self-Esteem Broadcast’
Wayne says: “Thorsten Wörmann can be heard giving the final blow that will, at last, destroy our ego and let us begin again!! He says, “you think the forces have control, well, there are no forces and they have no control, it’s just you and me, and we fear anything that looks like the sun, and we, by our own design, are helpless, this is the beginning.” Kind of a religious mantra that says “destroy all religion.””
We say: The slowly occurring massive ‘ping’ reminds us of the submarine-like piano that top and tails’ Pink Floyd’s ‘Echoes’. Harmonies drift in and out of earshot to great effect, creating something arresting and warm, despite its apparent emptiness.

‘Watching The Planets’
Wayne says: “Tribal conquering dirge. Karen Okicks in singing with me and Steven. A final revelation that celebrates the power of nature and implies that the only laws worth obeying are the laws one makes for oneself. Experience is the only teacher…”
We say: The opening vocal, “Oh, oh, oh,” which repeats itself throughout this distorto-bass-thump of an anthem, provides the closest thing to a sing-a-long on the whole of ‘Embryonic’’s two discs. A chanting send-off of epic proportions.
 
Overall: The Flaming Lips are probably the first band ever to release their first double-album AFTER their first quadruple album (1997’s ‘Zaireeka’). We love the complete back-to-front-ness of this, not least because it makes perfect sense in The Lips’ fake blood-flooded freakout universe. ‘Embryonic’ is altogether more fragmented, strange, and dirty than either of their previous mainstream albums-proper (which are ‘Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots’ and ‘At War With The Mystics’ – we won’t count ‘Once Beyond Hopelessness’ cos it’ll just confuse everyone), and is a definite reaction to those album’s poppier tendencies. Wayne is definitely back to mess with your minds…