I've gotta admit, this new album from The Flaming Lips was not among my most anticipated albums of the year. Sure, I liked their previous geeky, spacy explorations just fine. I didn't know much about their history, but I found The Soft Bulletin and Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots to be entertaining, and at times even beautiful, pieces of work. They were just highly inconsistent - either lead singer Wayne Coyne sounded bloody awful (a problem mostly remedied on the latter album, likely due to some studio magic), the lyrics weren't going where I wanted them to (or anywhere at all), the tempo and flow of a song couldn't make up its mind, etc. I figured, At War with the Mystics will probably have some highly entertaining singles, a few mellow tracks lying in wait for me to be dazzled by them, and some instrumentals and other random filler that I don't really care about, just like those other albums. And you know, that's almost true, but what I've found is that the mystics keep me coming back a lot more often than the robots did, or the scientists racing to save the universe. Is it because there's not as much pretense of a theme for the band to deviate from here? Is it because the lyrics speak profound truths into the current political landscape? Eh, maybe a little. But mostly, it's because they've honed their skills and found a more convincing way to marry the organic and the synthetic, resulting in a collection that registers in my brain as "sublime" far more often than it registers as "substandard".

So, that thing I said about the theme... yeah, there doesn't seem to be one here. As much as I seem to be rediscovering my identity as a lost child of the prog rock era (as my enjoyment of Dream Theater would attest to), I actually think the Lips are better off for not making this one a concept album. These songs still flow nicely into one another, without having to hint at a unified story. Let's face it... Yoshimi all but dropped its story after the first few tracks. I tried as best I could to fanwank and rediscover the lost story thread, but it really wasn't there. The Soft Bulletin may have stuck to its theme a little more faithfully, but not to the extent that I really had a grasp on how the story worked out. Anyway, that album was tough to listen to at times - it seemed like there was a bad vocal take to match every beautiful instrumental bit. No such things are problematic on Mystics. It's just the Lips being who they want and writing about whatever. Some have seen a political thread running through the album, which is in stark contrast to the decidedly fictional stories that have inspired the past two. I say that current events inform a lot of songwriters in some vague way, so it's not like this is the Flaming Lips' American Idiot or Living with War or whatever.

And none of this is to say that the Lips have abandoned their fanciful flights of science fiction altogether. Those of you who geeked out over the trippy lyrics of the past albums shouldn't be too disappointed here. It's just that the sci-fi is distilled into a lot of its basic questions here, rather than having to prop up characters who pose those questions. What are we doing here in this universe? Why do we get one life, and one life only, an identity which is not interchangeable with any other? Why do our attempts to have power over our own universe often lead us to harm our fellow human beings? When is the big natural disaster going to come along and wipe us all out? Coyne's ponderings are often witty, maybe sometimes a bit random, but usually relatable. Some of these questions might be common one for musicians to ask us to sit down and think about, but few do it with such an uncanny combination of the humorous, the bizarre, the cutting, and even the macabre. It's that "macabre" element which used to keep me at a distance with some of the Lips' material, but I don't feel that when it pops up here. (As a matter of fact, two songs that deal with disaster and death are among the album's best tracks.) And to top it all off, these guys really like their talk boxes and fuzzy guitar effects, as they play against the often synthesized, spacy backdrop. So this album is a great little feast for the ears.

Sound interesting so far? Good. Now let's put on our safety goggles and combat boots and venture forth into the war zone.

The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song
Are you crazy?
It's a very dangerous thing to do exactly what you want
Because you cannot know yourself or what you'd really do
With all your power...
I normally detest songs that use a single, repeated vocalized syllable as their main hook, because it's usually a syllable like "na na na" that doesn't mean anything and is just supposed to get you all excited over nothing. "Yeah" is something used in this context, but here, the humorous repetition of that word, first as an acapella vocal intro, ends up being the answer to a series of questions posed about what one would do if given the power of king or president for a day. It's even funnier when it turns into "No no no" in the second verse, as Coyne's questions turn from selfish acts to humanitarian ones. There's all manner of buzzing and blurping from the highly tweaked guitars, and the first of several instances of a tallboy masking some of the vocals. Despite all of that, the song feels anything but robotic - it comes alive due to it sheer quirkiness. There's even a vocal solo in the middle where Coyne, who is aah-ing way higher than his natural range will allow for at a few points, manages to amuse me greatly. Who needs boring old guitar solos when you've got this wacky guy, right? Eventually, the song collapses into an ending that finds one of the band members announcing, "I quit! I didn't make it all the way through that." Well, I made it all the way through, you big wimp.

Free Radicals
You're turning into a poor man's Donald Trump
I know those circumstances make you wanna jump...
Ready for some Prince-ified space funk? Well, that makes one of us. This odd, stuttering number, which can't seem to stick to its rhythm at the beginning before the drums kick in, definitely took a few tries before it really stuck with me. Now I love it. Good thing I do, because this one appears to be a love-or-hate affair, with Coyne trying his dardnest to falsetto like he's The Artist Formerly Known as an Unpronounceable Symbol. And he's doing this too woo a suicide bomber into giving up his destructive ways. (Seriously, he had a dream about this that inspired the song.) Judging from his words, he might want to brush up on his negotation skills - "You think you're radical, but you're not so radical, in fact, you're fanatical" might not be the best way to talk such a guy down. Don't pay too much attention to the lyrics - there aren't much of 'em anyway. Just enjoy the lovably dorky style parody (complete with conspicuous heavy gasp at the end) for what it is.

The Sound of Failure
So go tell Britney, and go tell Gwen
She's not tryin' to go against all them
'Cause she's too scared and she can't pretend
To understand where it begins or ends...
It was tough to find a snippet of lyrics that did justice to the beauty of this song. One thing I've liked about past Lips record is that they seemed blissfully unaware of the pop culture around them; mentioning such pop idols as Britney Spears and Gwen Stefani in their lyrics is tantamount to putting up a big red sign that says "Forgettable lyric with a shelf life here - move along, folks." But don't judge it by that. The temporary nature of said stars may serve as an adequate contrast to the "failure" of a girl who just wants to do, or be, something unique. What, I can't tell. Her insecurity plays out against a backdrop of lovely guitar strumming and faint orchestral elements that builds to such a beautiful crescendo, that part of me doesn't really care what weirdness is being discussed here. As if self-conscious regarding the beauty they're creating, the Lips throw in an insistent, nervous, blurting electric guitar, but it just adds to the idiosyncrasy, not managing to divert the beautiful melody despite the guitar's relative monotony. The whole thing is very 70's, and just to be a little more "prog-rock" than normal, the song expands into a second section, with a brief, slow verse and gentle guitars and bells, before the calming sounds of flutes, synthetic bells, and humming insects conclude the song, which has now stretched leisurely past the seven-minute mark. A bit much for only track three, but who cares, it's a lovely piece of work.

My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion
So don't you believe them
They'll destroy you with their lies
They only see the obvious
They see the sun go down, but they don't see it rise...
Here's a song that gets everything right that "It's Summertime" got wrong on Yoshimi. The same elements are there at the outset - soothing electronic tones that come in waves, birds chirping, and a generally sunny and euphoric feel. But this song isn't content to spend its entire duration floating in the ether with a highly insecure melody and rhythm to guide it. Midway through, the electronic buzzing gives way to a little bit of timpani, and then an aural overload of guitar fuzz. It's obnoxiously loud, and yet somehow still very beautiful. All the while, Wayne is singing about songbirds, and the refusal of some people to see the new life inherent in death during a season where leaves fall from the trees. While it's a much prettier take on the subject, this hints at a few explorations of the topic of mortality that are still to come.

Vein of Stars
25, 26, 27
Maybe there ain't no heaven
There's just you and me, maybe that's all whose left
And if there ain't no heaven, maybe there ain't no hell...
Whenever I hear synthesized flutes like the ones that open this song, I always think Legend of Zelda. (But maybe that's just me.) Anyway, another pretty background conspires with a steady acoustic guitar strum, and a little bit of wah-wah from the electric guitar, to create... actually, a fairly ordinary song. It's fairly easy on the ears and has a lovely bridge section, with its ascending "aah"s as the guitar quietly keeps pace with the loveliness, but the timing does seem a bit wrong at this point for yet another mostly mellow track. Wayne is wondering if "maybe there isn't a vein of stars calling out my name", and it almost feels like he's playing John Lennon with his ruminations on what would happen if heaven and hell were imaginary. I'll admit, it's a more difficult lyrics for me to connect with, but there's a lot going on in the big starry canvas that acts as the song's background, so I'll just pay attention to that.

The Wizard Turns On...
Well, this is a Flaming Lips album. You knew there had to be at least one pointless instrumental. I actually really enjoyed "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 2" from the last record, and have slowly come to appreciate "Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon", "The Observer", and "Sleeping on the Roof" over time - none are aurally offensive or even boring. And neither is this track. But it also seems like space that could have been better used at times. The opening 45 seconds or so consist of ambient laser beam noises that sound like something from Aphex Twin's vault of "random crap from my hard drive to throw onto the next record willy-nilly". Then it breaks into an easy-going drum-and-synth jam, with the electric guitar showing plenty of robotic sass (if such a thing can be conceived) - at times it sounds more like a frakking Speak & Spell than a guitar. (Or maybe it's a synthesizer? Who the hell can tell the difference at this point?) And actually, that's about it. More echoing noise, and then we come crashing into the next track.

It Overtakes Me
You know that it isn't real
You'll disappear in a black hole
You know that it isn't real
Floating out of control...
Here's the second prog-space-rock oddity to land on this album. It's not as long and drawn out as "The Sound of Failure", but it's close. The bizarre part is that the first section of this song is apparently going to be a single. I mean, that's believable, with its minimalist drum-and-bass thumping, hand clapping, and joyous, repeated declarations of "It overtakes me, it overtakes me, it overtakes me, ooooh-wah!" I have no clue what's doing the "overtaking" here - I can't get much detail other than that this myserious force "isn't real", and, as one of many pitch-shifted, intruding voices tells me, "You'll disappear in a black hole!" But I'll bump along to the funkiness anyway. After a few minutes, this approach dies down and we're left with a soft wash of vocals, and again we're floating in space, pondering the stars and Wayne's mortal fears. There's a subtle beauty to this section, but what I really love is how it gives way to a delicious waterfall of acoustic guitar picking that brings the song to a gentle but euphoric climax.

Mr. Ambulance Driver
Oh we can't trade places
Our lives are strangely our own
Mr. Ambulance Driver, tell me
For everyone that dies, someone new is born...
This album should come with a warning label. DO NOT DRIVE WHILE LISTENING TO TRACK 8. Because, as tragically lovely of a song as this is, there really oughta be a law against putting sounds on CDs that could cause audiophile drivers to be confused as to what's approaching them in traffic. Maybe I imagined the sound of brakes screeching in Linkin Park's song "Lying from You", but I'm sure as hell not imagining the ambulance siren that blares throughout the majority of this song. I get the idea - you're supposed to feel like you're riding in an ambulance with a hapless victim, pleading with the driver to get her to the hospital on time. But it can really be overbearing the first few times you listen. Looking past that, this track is an intriguing one, exploring the issue of survivor's guilt as Wayne wonders why she's the one laying there dying instead of him, wishing desperately that they could trade identities somehow. It's touching, and as much as the laid-back drum beat may try to casually stroll right on through, it can't deflect the emotional heaviness of the song. It does, however, keep the Lips from getting too pretentious in exploring the subject - they have an uncanny flair for mixing the catastrophic with the casual.

Haven't Got a Clue
I stil can't believe all your plastic surgery
Now it's everybody's problem that you're unhappy
Oh, come on!
Don't expect too much intelligent from this track - it's mostly just a cathartic nerd-rock song devoted to the desire we all get to make some obnoxious person's face cave in every now and then. It could be George W. Bush, it could be Paris Hilton, it could be your boss. Take your pick. "Every time you state your case, the more I want to punch your face", states the main motif, which is followed by a humorous attempt on Wayne's part to sign along with the buzzing synths - "I go dvvv dvvv dvvv! Dvvv dvvv dvv!" is what he proclaims, as if that's the sound of him punching somebody's face. There are a few breaks in the song filled in by lovely synth-and-vocal washes - I have no idea how they fit here, but I find it kind of funny when the bass line comes strolling back after one of them, as if completely oblivious to the beautiful noise the rest of the band has been creating, "Uh, hey guys, how's it hanging? I got this rad new bass riff, wanna hear?" (Come to think of that, they kind of did that in "Suddenly Everything Has Changed", too. And "The Spark that Bled".)

The W.A.N.D.
I got a plan, and it's here in my hand
A baton made of light
We're the enforcers, the sorcerer's orphans
And we know why we fight
You got that right...
Alright, so this is the song where they say "motherf*ckers". You can skip the track if that bugs you. It bugs me, actually, but they only say it once, so I can live with it. The track's still a fun, funky number that oozes pure cockiness, as if sticking out its tongue at "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" and saying "Yeah, so what?" Because the declaration here is, "We've got the power now, (aforementioned expletive), it's where it belongs." Almost as if to say that the response to a corrupt power structure has been to overthrow it and then become equally corrupt. I get that subtle sense of irony, anyway, and while this isn't one of my favorite tracks on the album, they've filled it to the brim with fuzzing and buzzing and other menacing sounds, all without sacrificing the fairly easy-going groove. How do they do that?

Pompeii am Gotterdammerung
Running to the station holding hands
Now the volcano is flowing red
Something there will change us into sand...
This strange little tune tucked away in the back half of the album, which has been derided by some for being short on content and long on Pink Floyd imitation, has actually become my second-favorite track on the album. (It'd be my favorite if "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" weren't so frakkin' awesome.) Michael Ivins trots out a killer rolling bass line that tumbles along throughout the song, while Steven Drozd's drums roll along perilously, depicting a frantic escape from an exploding volcano. (I saw the movie Dante's Peak recently - not recommended viewing, but at least it gave me a good visual to match this song.) Drozd apparently sings lead here, though his voice is so watery and washed over by the instruments that I can't tell him apart from Coyne. It may be that he and Coyne are singing together, for all I know. Anyway, there aren't many lyrics and it's hard to make out the ones that are there, but a line about "holding hands" as people escape the tragedy - the world's ending, and suddenly selfish people turn into close comrades when faced with life-or-death situations. I mostly love this song for the perilously gorgeous instrumentation - the shiny silver guitar solo and the flutes and all that.

Goin' On
We tell ourselves it's all just normal
'Til the worst of it is gone
And you give up, and you give out, and you just can't take it
How will we keep goin' on?
So, why do you guys have to keep disappointing me with your closing numbers? It's good that you didn't end with an instrumental here, but somehow I expected a little more after the wrath laid down by the previous few songs than a lyric that's about goin' on, uh huh, uh huh. The melody is fairly static here, the beat way too laid-back to make an impression, and there aren't any lovely layers to make the music interesting. It's a surprisingly lackadaisical approach that leaves me feeling unimpressed when I know that the intent was probably to lift my spirit's a bit. Kind of like how I felt when Modest Mouse got to the end of a befuddling diverse album, only to finish off with the lackluster song "The Good Times Are Killing Me". Thanks guys, but I'll just ignore this one and pretend the story ended with the volcano wiping everyone out.

Despite ending on a sour note, At War with the Mystics is still the strongest Lips album I've heard to date. There are probably as many individual preferences out there among Flaming Lips fans (or potential new fans) as there are ways to listen to Zaireeka, so far be it from me to say that this is their best work. But it's engrossing and intriguing enough to hint that this band is capable of a masterpiece. Hopefully, they'll get going on that one before the world's powers-that-be go stark raving mad and blow us all up. Or something.

ALBUM WORTH:
The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song $2
Free Radicals $1.50
The Sound of Failure $1.50
My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion $1.50
Vein of Stars $1
The Wizard Turns On... $0
It Overtakes Me $1.50
Mr. Ambulance Driver $1.50
Haven't Got a Clue $1
The W.A.N.D. $.50
Pompeii am Gotterdammerung $1.50
Goin' On $0
TOTAL: $13.50

Band Members:
Wayne Coyne: Lead vocals, guitars
Michael Ivins: Bass, piano
Stephen Drozd: Drums, guitar, bass, keyboards, synthesizers, vocals

Website: http://www.flaminglips.com

Recommended: Yes