A few years ago the Flaming Lips appeared to be ready to join the dinosaur club. After producing a string of classic albums, the band's late-aughts output was lukewarm at best, dreadful at worse. The band still kept a high profile with festival shows, constant touring and selling their songs for use in commercials and films. Yet, even as they were circling the drain, one could not help but admire the long weird road they had traveled to get to this point. At the same time, though, one wished for a third act more worthy of the fabulous freaks of old. The Lips simply were not one of those bands you ever wanted to say "I like their old stuff" about, but they were becoming one of those bands.
"Embryonic" changed that. It didn't just provide for the obligatory "return to form," it actually upped the weirdness quotient and ensured that any of those new found fans looking for more slightly off kilter acid-inflected indie pop were in for a very bad trip indeed. Frontman Wayne Coyne's lyrics have always contained darkness and existential dread, but the Lips' music usually made it palatable for even unicorn and rainbow loving hippies to digest. With "Embryonic" the Lips chose to match their music with the darkness of Coyne's words, producing a sometimes difficult listen. Even more accessible songs like "Silver Trembling Hands" sound claustrophobic and frightening. The album does meander at times, and they could have cut it by a song or two, but as a whole it succeeds in expressing what may be the ugliest and most disquieting chapter in the band's career long exploration of the beauty, horror, meaning and meaninglessness of the universe. The Lips' commitment to this dark vision is alone cause for celebration. The band could just have easily written a few more upbeat pop songs and cashed their paycheck, but they chose to do the opposite with "Embryonic," and for that they have proven themselves worthy of admiration all over again.
"Convinced By The Hex" live
Very NSFW video for "Watching the Planets" here
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