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.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
04 She Don't Use Jelly (03:40)
I know a girl who thinks of ghosts,
She'll make you breakfast, she'll make you toast.
But she don't use butter.
And she don't use cheese.
She don't use jelly, or any of these.
She uses Vaseline
Vaseline
Vaseline
I know a guy who goes to shows,
When he's at home an' he blows his nose,
He don't use tissues,
Or his sleeves,
He don't use napkins, or any of these.
He uses Magazines
Magazines
Magazines.
Magazines
I know a girl who reminds me of Cher,
She's always changin' the color of her hair,
But she don't use nothin', That you buy at the store,
She likes her hair to, be real orange
She uses Tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines
06 Superhumans (03:13)
Once in a while, the time will come
To surrender everything you have to give
Once in a while, the time will come
To surrender everything you have to give
I would have given up for you
I know they're gonna bump and collide
I'm sure there's planets wrapped up with you
I've seen them kissing out in the hallway
Once in a while, the zebras run
To the spaceman and his gun, in the spider's web
Once in a while, the zebras run
To the spaceman and his gun, in the spider's web
I would have given up for you
I know they're gonna bump and collide
I'm sure there's planets wrapped up with you
I've seen them kissing out in the hallway
07 Be My Head (03:15)
You can be my head
Oh, I really need one
'cause it's used all its better days
You can be my head
'cause I've ruined this one
Blasting holes where it used to be
And if it's not a big thing,
You could swap or lend me
You should stop and ask me
Be my head, and I'll be yours (2x)
You can be my head
Oh, they've eaten this one
Putting swirls in this giant hole
You can be my head
'cause I can't afford to buy one
Seeking stars in its other side
And if it's not a big thing,
You could swap or lend me
You should stop and ask me
Be my head, and I'll be yours (2x)
Won't you be my head, and I'll be yours
Be my head and I'll be yours (3x)
08 Moth in the Incubator (04:12)
Something in you, it jitters like a moth
And I see that your arms are out to God
And oh, they kill you when they talk
It makes a mountain peak seem little when it's not
Your incubator is so tight (2x)
I've been born before, I'm pretty used to it
Brain-dead is always all there is
So embryonic it's all right (2x)
I've been born before, I'm gettin' used to it
Brain-dead is how it always ends
09 Plastic Jesus (02:18)
I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got my plastic Jesus
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car
Comes in colors, pink and pleasant
Glows in the dark, it's iridescent
Take it with you when you travel far
Get yourself a sweet madonna
Dressed in rhinestone, settin' on a
Pedestal of Abalone Shells
Goin' 90, I ain't scared
Cause I got the Virgin Mary
Assuring me that I won't go to hell
Loading comments slowly
Other reviews
By zaireeka
"I imagine the feelings and thoughts of my dad, a young 'fish-frier' to whom God has just revealed the contingent nature of death..."
"A melody and a plaintive song at the start, melancholic, with a few acoustic guitar notes... like it were recorded live in the kitchen of a fast food on the road from Oklahoma City to Neverland..."