I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: THE FLAMING LIPS-Transmissions from the Satellite Heart (1993).

It’s easy to see how people could cry about the Lips moving to a major label.  I mean, comparing this to Hear It Is, they’re like different bands. Except that they’re not.  They’re still the same band, they’re just better, more refined, more mature (maybe) and they know how to use their previous experiments in a way that assists and strengthens the music.

Pretensions aside, this was the disc that scored them their biggest hit, “She Don’t Use Jelly.”  It’s a super catchy, slightly annoying, certainly borderline novelty song (except that all Lips songs are borderline novelty, they’re so weird).  I was thrilled when I saw the Lips on the Soft Bulletin tour and they not only played “Jelly,” they made a big party out of it with balloons and all kinds of fun.

“Jelly” isn’t entirely representative of the album, but, if you really listen to it, it’s not that far afield from the rest of the disc either.  “Turn It On” is the first time you can really hear all the elements of the Lips coalescing into what they would one day become.  Wayne’s voice is coming in close to what we know now, and the musicianship is quite good.  “Pilot Can at the Queer of God” (see, their titles haven’t sold out!) on an earlier disc would have been a messy shambles, but their refined sense makes this a fantastic song with cool backing vocals and everything.  A sort of punk Beach Boys if you will.

“Chewin the Apple of Your Eye” could actually have been a B-Side of Soft Bulletin, in its simple acousticness.  “Superhumans” starts showing off the kind of interesting drum sound that would be a staple of their later releases (this disc welcomes drummer and main contributor Steve Drozd, so that makes sense).

“Be My Head” is another fun Beach Boysesque song. It’s such a simple, happy song (complete with ahh’s in the background).  The distorted guitar isn’t overpowering.  The only thing that is decidedly not Brian Wilson is the lyrics (“You can be my head, I’m through with this one).

“Moth in the Incubator” seems to summarize their whole career in one song.  An acoustic intro, a noisy, crashing middle section and then a slight weird yet catchy as hell melody to close.

Track 9 is listed as “********” but its’ actually a song called “Plastic Jesus” from the film Cool Hand Luke.  A short acoustic song.

The disc ends with the really cool “Slow Nerve Action” a very simple riff, but it is played so differently from the rest of the album, (almost like a professional guitarist?!).  A simple song but very catchy.  An excellent end to a great disc.

[READ: January 26, 2009] Jokes Told in Heaven About Babies

I can’t really say how disappointed I was by this book.  And primarily I was disappointed because the title is awesome and has so much potential.  However, the title is neither accurate nor expounded upon.  That’s right, the book with probably the funniest title published in 2003 is misleading.

After getting over this initial disappointment, I finally settled down to investigate.  You basically get a 34 page book.  There are several illustrations of a series of piers/wharfs.  These are interspersed within the short text pieces.  I describe them as such because I’m not entirely sure what they are.

There are nine short pieces.  Each one is titled, but it is not clear whether the pieces are fiction, are diaries, are short stories or, as seems, are just stream of consciousness meanderings.

The singular piece “First in a Series of Sex Stories That Lose Their Way” is really very funny.  The title describes the piece, but it exceeds expectations with the narrator getting sidetracked from her co-workers exploring their lesbian fantasies by wondering what name she would give to the dragon in her fantasy.

The rest, however, tend to veer into the absurd without justification.  For instance, “The Employees at My Post Office, They Have a Good Time” is primarily a scenario as described by the title: post office employees enjoying themselves.  The fact that it ends with the line “You know what I make? Fire, with my eyes” is certainly funny, but it’s a very unsatisfying conclusion to a piece.

At times I felt like dismissing the work outright because the non sequiturs were so egregious.  And yet, the writing of individual sentences or passages is usually so good, so well-constructed and evocative, that I’m willing to accept the author’s skills, and just assume that they’re not my thing.

Note: some online research says that Dave Eggers is “assistant to Lucy Thomas” while other places suggest that Lucy Thomas is Egger’s pseudonym.  I’m not sure which, if either, is correct.