With 2004's Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Flaming Lips proved that they could make the woozy space rock that astronauts have wet dreams about. Now, with At War With the Mystics and eleven previous studio albums behind them, they've proven that the eco-conscience that has coated their career can be dealt with in both an eccentric and reflective fashion. It's not that Wayne Coyne and co. have lost their zany, cartoonish edge; just that their musical melange has become more structured and robust. After 23 years in the business and more experimentation than Elton John's wig stylist, it comes as somewhat of a relief that Flaming Lips have finally found their niche without surrendering any of the idiosyncrasy that makes them so damned appealing. The rumours are true; At War With the Mystics is probably the most rounded, accomplished album that the 'Lips have ever made. Gone are the days when Bono and Geldof were the sole political activists/bellyachers in music; Dubya has left a boulder of discontent in the hearts of artists the world over, and Coyne is no exception. Many songs here are either politically (the tumbling fuzz-pop of The Yeah Yeah Song, the gaunt space-rock of Free Radicals) or socially charged (nu-psych-folk of The Sound of Failure), and while Yoshimi battled with both pink robots, twangs of electro-folk and Coyne's inner sensitivity, Mystics continues apace with a new lyrical and musical agenda. At War With the Mystics provides bountiful material to enthrall; the atypical atmospheric effects, inimitable songcraft and singular falsettos; the wonky pop, fuzzy prog and outlandish song titles; and the epic orchestration and quintessential Flaming Lips sound that improves upon every listen. There are so many layers and styles here that it would be a futile exercise to strip and analyse each one. Mystics is an album to be unmitigatedly enjoyed, not dissected; and should deservedly be catalogued as Flaming Lips' finest moment yet.
