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Rating:
THE REVIEW
Today I am happy, driving around with the window down, smiling at everyone. How nice, I'm so sociable that I look like a goofball (and maybe I am), but what can I do if "Transmission From The Satellite Heart" has the same effect on me as Mary has on a priest.
This is the last album before nothingness. It doesn't seem like it, but that's how it is, and let's be honest: after this, Wayne Coyne would have done better to play only live, but people change, evolve, heal, and when they recover, the illness begins.
How can we forget: in Beverly Hills, he enters with his head down, hair covering his face, never raising it (shame?)... in Charmed, he's all pumped up and excited, almost showing his package to the witch of the moment.
Time's a nasty beast that reduces you to a mere firefighter, but what do I care? Nothing, this album is of solar beauty that lights up your day and befuddles you to the point where you'd give a euro to every window washer in Campania and a kiss to every gypsy child, ignoring the problem of global overpopulation.
But then what are we complaining about? This, from 1993, is the sixth album, all beautiful, all different. What more could you ask?
High-class Pop that seems to look more at certain Beatles than the usual Syd? Some songs so beautiful they can easily be counted among the best of the nineties? Then this is the album for you. No more psychedelic punk, but Pop, psychedelic-pop traveling like a wonder. An example? "Be my Head"... melodies with vocal tricks made of effects that stick in your head and stay there for a while.
All of Wayne's daughters are beautiful and smiling, but the most beautiful is: "She Don't Use Jelly"... as lovely as a toast filled with Vaseline and magazine. How could we ignore this masterpiece of tuned folly and clear songwriting?
And so the homework for tomorrow is this:
-Stop with the weed, it's not necessary.
-Put this disc in the stereo and start wandering through the fields, smelling and kissing the flowers.
-Long for the good old days, when there was no need to shoot confetti and climb into transparent balloons to attract attention.
-Learn to be a goofball; it's always useful.
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Summary by Bot
The review celebrates The Flaming Lips’ 1993 album 'Transmissions From The Satellite Heart' as a joyful and beautiful psychedelic pop work. It highlights standout tracks like 'She Don’t Use Jelly' and 'Be My Head' and praises the melodic and inventive songwriting. The reviewer expresses a nostalgic and affectionate tone, recommending the album as a timeless and uplifting experience. Despite noting the band's future changes, this album remains a high point in their career.Tracklist Lyrics Videos
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