With people going around claiming the newest Flaming Lips being a "return to form" I looked forward to hearing it. When I did it had me figuring that return to form everyone was taking about was sadly sublime & the brooding/pretty pastorals) or it's follow up Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots (which, save for 2 or maybe 3 songs, is nothing but a bunch of unfinished ideas and sound effects. Oh boy! There was talk of them making a Broadway musical out of it) and not, say,(two personal favorites) or those albums way back when they were on Restless that expanded my head and primed my brain when it was much younger and fiending for such things during it's waking hours. Not "You got to listen to the album start to end. It's the only way to feel it man!"
What? That's people used to me about listening to a to a Pink Floyd album. Dammit! I want Pink Floyd that bummed out all the "real music fans" in my high school. The freaking out and falling apart Syd Barrett Pink Floyd-not the conceptual jazz rock put your headphones and fall to sleep Pink Floyd.
Because of this it's good to have the hippie harshing, bad tripping, cranky and rat trap sounds of Psychedelic Horseshit around. Some would consider listening to them on headphones would be a test of endurance and if you fell asleep with them playing everyone would then find out if you can die in your dreams or not. Comparing Matt Horseshit to Lord Syd or St. Coyne might make some gasp and think that I don't really even listen to music anymore but once what I thought was an off handed observation, not to forget to mention on their Shitgaze Anthems rec there was a song titled, "We're Pink Floyd, Bitch" seems more sensical every day.
Songs that would be the basis of pastoral sound paintings in other hands though get shook of the walls and trampled underfoot like broken glass. When it's time for a loud and weird rock-n-roll unlike other bands who will gussy it up with prerecorded sound effects and electronic gadgets to twist the sound Psychedelic Horseshit would rather just have play a Shop-Vac as a set of bagpipes (or maybe that isn't a Shop-Vac and it isn't suppose to sound like bagpipes it's just the way the hiss and screech affects these eardrums) and have someone fire off a shotgun full of buckshot at a metal garbage can (figuratively and possibly literally). Anchored by Matt's half asleep/all the way smug & phlegmy vocals, shitbox "is that even in tune" guitar sound and chug-chug like Velvet Underground rhythms the 8 songs spread over 4 sides here don't drift far from the path they've stumbled through on their previous records but as also with each consecutive there seems to be a tendency more and more towards something that resembles, dare I say it, actual pop songs with discernible melodies. Something that resembles such but also far from it and just not right. With this band there shouldn't ever be any other way.
Smashin' Transistors interview with Psychedelic Horseshit from a couple years back