My God. I can’t believe I am four days late on this. I have been waiting for this to come out for almost a year. I don’t know if anyone else is a fan, but on October 13th, The Flaming Lips released yet another (#12) genius album; Embryonic. With eighteen tracks, plus four itunes bonus tracks, “Baeblemusic explains in their review that, “the experimental ear-gobbling licks are not meant to make total sense. They are meant to spook and mystify, and where At War with the Mystics imploded, the incubated tracks of Embryonic radiate with life.”’ When I heard about the release of this new album, I nearly fell off my chair when I saw that MGMT and Karen O would be helping with a few of their tracks. As I listened to the album in entirety, my favorite way of listening to any new album, I said to Alexa, “I feel the energy.” And I did, I truly did. I felt as though I was traveling through space, looking for adventure. This spacey, ethereal sound is what sparked my interest in The Flaming Lips about seven years ago. My very first Flaming Lips song that I heard when I was fourteen or so was “Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell” from the album Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, and I instantly fell in love. On this new album, I especially like the songs “Silver Trembling Hands” and “Gemini Syringes.” The latter is as smooth as something from Radiohead’s In Rainbows. The one you can listen to above is called “Silver Trembling Hands.” Enjoy.
we went where the wild things were.
I have been trying to avoid all things wild in the past weeks. With a movie as highly anticipated as Spike Jonze’s latest adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s beloved children’s book, you have to be careful to stop yourself from forming preconceptions. Otherwise you will end up as I was at the end of the most recent Harry Potter film: bemused but mostly dissappointed. It was actually at the midnight showing — yes, I went to the midnight showing — of The Half-Blood Prince that I saw the first preview for Where the Wild Things Are, and I was beyond excited. I will always remember my parents reading it to me, along with Sendak’s other book, Outside Over There (which I’ve always found eerily similar to Bowie’s Labyrinth…).
So yes. I wanted to see this movie, but I promised myself that in order to avoid getting too wound up over it I would steer away from all its publicity. No pre-ordering the soundtrack on iTunes. No watching home-made trailers from YouTube. And certainly no buying any Max-themed pillowcases and wall hangings at Urban Outfitters. I did an excellent job of staying away from these things, and so when I wrenched myself away from our Underground staff party last night to see the movie with my friends, I was relatively unaware of what to expect. I didn’t have expectations, but I had desires: I wanted the book from my childhood, the fuzzy memories that I could feel more than see. I wanted the distinctly hand-drawn, cartoon-like pictures of the wild things and the wide smile on Max’s face.
The books and movies are never the same. This can be good, and this can be bad. Within the first thirty seconds of the film, I felt it was going to be good. Max Records, the young boy playing (fittingly) Max seemed tailor-made for his role. I don’t want to give much away — let’s just say he looks dashing in a wolf suit. Without ruining the plot, I can tell you that in the ninety-four minutes I sat in the back row of the theater, I experienced more emotions than I had felt at the movies in a very, very long time. This can definitely be viewed as a childrens’ movie: the puppetry, design, and animation was incredible, the action was appropriate, and the setting (the filming was done in Australia) was right out of a Sigur Ros music video. Just the beauty of the movie, with no plot or dialogue, could have brought some to tears. A child would certainly enjoy it, would certainly draw connections to the book their Mom reads at bedtime.
But when I walked out of the theater I couldn’t shake a strange feeling; I felt empty. At twenty years old, enrolled in Trinity College, studying Manet and Shakespeare, where are my wild things? I felt Max’s lonliness and struggles in an intense way that I wasn’t expecting. At the end of the film, I looked over at Meredith, and we were both crying. It was exactly what I wanted.
Conclusion: See this movie. And if you haven’t read the book, get yourself into a kid’s mentality and do that first.
Also, check out the soundtrack. It’s a way-cool, cathartic new sound for Karen O.
I thought this was interesting - Jonze and Karen O. discussing the film’s music
