As they should, they did it different. The Flaming Lips’ latest is a turn away from the increasingly glossy symphonic-pop of their post-Soft Bulletin work, and yet it isn’t a turn back to their previous identity as acid-punks. Their least conventional work since 1997’s 4CD Zaireeka! – a sprawling, 70-minute...
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Fabric was my dream-club. As a small-town sixth-former, I imagined moving through its claustrophobic tunnels, identity dissolving into the egoless swarm-patterns of the technofied crowd. I’d already been to Filthy Dukes’ club-night, Kill ‘Em All, at the ghastly Camden Barfly, where their slick mixes of neo-post-punk, overloaded blog-house and electro...
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