“We interrupt this broadcast…”

Just had to share this on-the-money commentary from the fine folks over at The Quietus. This whole Laming Lips (yes, leaving the “F” off is is intentional)/Miley Cyrus thang has got to stop. That, or people have got to stop giving whatever the online equivalent of column inches are to this…ugghhh…collaboration. Anyway, enjoy.

“Ivor Cutler used to sprinkle hundreds & thousands over dog shit. The poet, songwriter and humorist was also known to paint flowers and draw chalk cartoons on the pavement around piles of abandoned pooch poop, so exasperated had he become with the prevalence of fouling in his local area. This brightening of foo-foo faeces did not only help fellow pedestrians to avoid stepping in it; the legend goes that the neighbourhood’s dog owners were so freaked out by Cutler’s unusual form of anti-plop protest that they soon began cleaning up after their mutts.

On an entirely unrelated note, The Flaming Lips have been collaborating with Miley Cyrus. At the end of August, Miley “dropped” her ‘Lips-aided album, Miley Cyrus And Her Dead Petz, and if I was a truly talented contrarian, like Rod Liddle, Julie Burchill or Angelica Pickles, I’d declare that record to be the year’s finest psychedelic masterpiece and grin madly at the flood of comments calling for my immediate resignation. The truth is, you’re right, Miley Cyrus And Her Dead Petz is insufferable. Penned by a person who’s had VIP status since gestation, its lyrics have less to say than the little one from Penn & Teller. Granted, the opening track doesn’t function solely as a platform for Cyrus to obstreperously declare that “Yeah, I smoke pot, yeah”. It also boasts an understanding of important philosophical questions including why there is a sun, how birds fly and “why there is trees”. That’s deep, man. Deeper still, the album’s title and a proportion of its lyrics are dedicated to the deaths of Cyrus’s pet dog and blowfish, which appear to be the two most catastrophic and challenging episodes that have ever happened in this privileged star’s life. Backed by The Flaming Lips’ diluted Yoshimi jams, which they’d probably write down as “jamz”, the crazee buggerz, there are 23 tracks in total and if you can make it all the way through those without skipping ‘I’m So Drunk’, ‘Cyrus Skies’ or ‘Miley Tibetan Bowlzzz’, then you’re a braver human than I. Oh, and one track’s got Ariel Pink on it, obviously. Obvs. Obvz. Z! (zzz)”