Planetary Dust Storm
One More Robot / Sympathy 3000-21 - The Flaming Lips (Blast from the Past Tuesday)
Yesterday it finally rained for the first time in weeks. Maybe I’m miscounting the actual stretch of sunny days, but it sure felt like it had been forever. I was just finishing up a reading when I heard it, and it freaked me out because the sound of the rain on the little piece of roof outside my window was so amplified it was like it was coming straight into my room. The sheer presence of the rain had me thrilled (and not just because it cools the weather down — though that is a blessing for someone like myself who lives on the top floor)! Rain at night creates this very specific atmosphere, a clear line between inside and out. It amplifies the cozy warmth of a room while highlighting the mysterious world outside, blocking everything but the glow of the streetlights with its never-ending sheet, a tapestry of individual drops that are gone as soon as they’re created. The cycle continues. All this makes a great backdrop for listening to music that makes you feel strange, and yesterday my song of choice was “One More Robot / Sympathy 3000-21” by The Flaming Lips.
I guess I should explain what I mean when I say it makes you feel strange, because I don’t mean that in a bad way at all. This is one of those songs that feels like its on a different plane, like it was handed to you directly from some kind of alien from an otherworldly planet because they knew it would be perfect for you and you alone. It isn’t necessarily sad but it also isn’t happy… it warms your heart but twists your stomach, furrows your brows but also soothes you. If I had to be brief and give a visual, I would say “One More…3000-21” is a bunch of eyes appearing from out of nowhere, eyes that, while scary at first, prove to be soft upon examination. Given the topic of the song, I’d say The Flaming Lips really nailed their message on the head with the sheer sound alone.
Its got that special magic that makes the mind go quiet while it plays, where nothing else matters but the song and the path it creates. This tune is a terrific example of a buildup song, beginning with distant guitars that usher in a bassline that feels like musical ellipses. Given the context, I like to imagine it as the robot’s programming trying to figure out a way to respond to the strange things that it is beginning to feel, a steady thrum that ends each little phrase with a higher note, a question mark to reflect the confusion of it all. Starting at the chorus, the progression starts to feel like someone at the end of a really hard climb, as though they are trying to pull themselves on top of a cliff they spent so much time scaling. Every line is echoed, swept around the listener’s head like a planetary dust storm. The sound of the drums are the one thing that keep to the ground, punctuating and perfectly on it everytime, as if to represent the side that says to stick to the program. Right when it seems like something might be different we return to the start, the same angry, tortured sounding electric droll saying without words that maybe there really can be no change after all. But then the acoustic guitar comes in, loud and imperfect, mournful and sad. I’d like to put it on the record that I think this tune has the best detached ending since Clapton’s “Layla”, an orchestral bit that I would rather let you hear for yourself than even attempt to describe.
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots is a nostalgic album for me, one that my mom played over and over on weekend afternoons. Because of this, it has lived in my heart for a long time. “One More Robot / Sympathy 3000-21” just makes it even more important to me, providing one of the most beautifully celestial songs I could ever dream of. Glad the rain came along so it could catch my heart.
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