The Flaming Lips
The Soft Bulletin

THE REVIEW

December 1999:

"Latest news. Unknown thieves broke into the Wizard of Oz's house last night and took away the soundtrack. The investigators are in the dark."

It's night. Silence reigns in the hideout while the box is about to be activated.

The cables have been connected, the old soundtrack now has a new "brain" to run on.

Modern.

Technological.

The master of ceremonies proclaims: "One, two, three, four ..."

He lays his ear and listens.

First, unexpectedly, like a waterfall thrown out of bed (it reminds me of the Marmore Falls, when the dam opens and the shepherd Velino dives onto the nymph Nera), a family of timpani arrives to open the dance.

Second comes the harp, or rather two, arm in arm, one slightly behind the other.

Awakened in their new digital dream, they cyclically respond to the call of an invisible conductor, with all their dusty strings.

Third, the strings arrive, drowsy, struggling to follow, always a step behind, a sad-happy refrain now sung by the band leader:

Theirs (we're arriving..) is (.. here we are ...) to (..we're here..) win (..ready ...)
If (..wait for us..) it (...we're here...) kills (...we're arriving..) them (..a moment ...)
They're (..resting..) just (..we're ...) hu (..here..) mans (..stop ...)
With wives (..for mercy ..) and (..don't run ...) chil (..so ..) dren (..much)

Fourth, but at dawn the next day, a soft piano arpeggio emerges from beneath the surface of a lake resting on a cushion of strings.

Every now and then, dolphins rise in a choral dance, to the rhythmic/sparkling sound of another family of timpani, reflecting the first rays of sun.

The master of ceremonies sleeps. The band leader sings an anthem to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and a piece of his creation.

A second later, preceded by the collapse of something indefinable, comes the national anthem of the world of Oz, with a string ensemble, bells in their hair, drum thrills, and melodies chasing each other in echo.

The master of ceremonies dreams. The band leader sings another piece of his creation.

Fifth, after a year, from the depths of the universe, a reverberated bass seems to arrive, like a beating heart.

Sixth, after two minutes, film music.

Seventh, the day before, the imperious sound of a gong opens a choral rhythm that incites the invasion of the realm of possibilities.

The master of ceremonies has woken up. The band leader sings another piece of his creation.

Eighth, after seventy years, a funeral march, preceded by a prayer without words, just sounds of lips opening, closing:

PPPrrrrrappappa prrrrappappappappa ppprrrrrappappa prrrrappappappappa...

The master of ceremonies is about to disconnect the box.

The band leader sings the last piece of his creation:

Love in our life is just too valuable
Oh, to feel for even a second without it
But life without death is just impossible
Oh, to realize something is ending within us
Feeling yourself disintegrate

It's night again. Now the band sleeps serenely on the rooftops, someone snores a melodious lullaby to the stars.

And the happy stars begin to dream again from the world of Oz.