WHO ARE THEY? As their handle hints, an alt-supergroup that merges Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne and bassist Steven Drozd with Deap Vally singer-guitarist Lindsey Troy and drummer Julie Edwards.
WHAT IS THIS? Their first full-length collaboration. And hopefully not their last.
WHAT DOES IT SOUND LIKE? A deliriously fun double-date. And a surprisingly well-balanced meeting of blown minds. The bulk of these 10 interlinked tracks tread a fine line between the Lips’ wide-eyed trippiness and the Vally gals’ muscular heft. One surprise: The women seem to handle pretty much all the vocals.
WHAT ARE THE MOST REVEALING LYRICS? “We’re not ones for subtlety.” Though I would also accept: “It’s a motherfucker / It’s a motherfucker / Blam blam blam blam blam blam blam blam blam,” since the two most important words in the latter recur throughout the album.
WHAT SHOULD IT BE TITLED? Well, Flaming Vally does seems like a no-brainer, though I guess it might be a little too on the nose.
HOW SHOULD I LISTEN TO IT? Loud and late, preferably by the glow of a lava lamp, black light, strobe or some combination of all three.
WHAT 10 WORDS SUM IT UP? Freaky, flowing, freewheeling, messy, surreal, psychedelic, explicit, experimental, expansive, irreverent.
WHAT ARE THE BEST SONGS? The shape-shifting triptych of Shit Talkin, Hope Hell High and Motherfuckers Got To Go (you can make your own guess who that’s about); the left-field, barely recognizable cover of Steppenwolf’s The Pusher. Gawddam!
WHAT WILL MY FRIENDS SAY? ‘You don’t have to be high to enjoy it — but it probably helps.’
HOW OFTEN WILL I LISTEN TO IT? Perhaps not as often as you listen to either of their original bands, though it does make a nice sonic bridge between the two.
IF THIS ALBUM WERE A FLAVOUR, WHAT WOULD IT BE? The metallic taste of clouds — with a coating of royal jelly.
SHOULD I BUY, STREAM OR STEAL IT? The first hit is not always free. Nor should it be.
