The Thousands

The first line of Zero Selon’s review of The Flaming Lips’ new album Embryonic shamelessly mentions his storied fan history with the Lips as Spamkid, but the problems only begin there. He writes, "(the record) contains so many psychedelic freak-outs, it would make a priest driving an ambulance scream, ‘Oh My Gawd!’" It is a veiled reference to the relative echo chamber that Embryonic represents to the band in their inception. The Lips themselves were smart enough to allude to this in the album title. This seems to go over Selon’s head completely, and yet the same jubilant idiocy continues to permeate the piece.

When writing a music criticism, one must give the reader a sense of having heard the music themselves, emanating from the page: received by the ear in the mind’s eye. However, in Selon’s sophomoric perspective the album can be reduced to simple equations; utilising the only elementary math of which I suspect him capable, i.e.,

"Free jazz hedonism X seventies sludge = no songs + more hooks than Adam’s mom."

Or this little gem:

"Monster fuzz guitar + cave drums = dragon baby."

While The Flaming Lips’ Embryonic may indeed be, "a place of intimate beauty and bone-curdling terror," Zero Selon’s journalistic infancy is in need of an abortion.