Sometimes the sun shines. Sometimes it might just make you smile. And even if it doesn’t the rain might hold off till you’re on the bus. Sometimes your toast will land butter side up. Sometimes you’ll be kissed and linger in it for a while. Sometimes your day isn’t such a scattered trail of strife, financial discord and regret – but even if it is sometimes a laugh will make it all feel better, for a while. Think about it. Yeah alright, put away your ‘Kill All Hippies’ t-shirts now and listen. These are the little things in life, the insignificants, subconsciously in-built to be taken intuitively for granted, presumably to give you more time for your girlfriend/boyfriend woes, pondering the end of the world or deconstructing your eternal teenage angst. But like nettles are natural neighbours to dock leaves, your antidote can never be too far out of your lazy reach. And if we’re talking state of mind, which somewhat philosophically we are, then here is the vast psychedelic prescription to take you there.
Put simply, this record (and the whole band, all 24 of ‘em) is jovial, insanely so, on cloud 9 and multiples thereafter. And closer to a drug than any we’ve heard since Jason Pierce first begun jettisoning himself into space on a regular basis. But in such a different way. By rights ‘The Beginning Stages Of…’ should be the new universal definition of joy, happiness, hope and endless other associated squeaky clean emotions. And as such it should really be horribly syrupy sweet, and maybe it is, but you’re so wrapped up in the high you can’t notice. Start thinking it’s twee and you’ll drift into the arms of the pretensions that this album levitates over. Here these are less songs and more callings, laid exuberantly across beds thick with honest layers and melodies looming high like waves. Extravagance purely for the sake of extravagance, and what other reason need there be?
‘Section 3’ (for there are no song titles, merely stages – though the Brit inlay does help you out somewhat unfairly, this one called ‘Days Like This Keep Me Warm’) starts out so helplessly blissful it could be the soundtrack – no, much more, the setting – to something as innocent and forsaken as butterflies fluttering synchronized across a sun-kissed park. ‘Section 8’s paean to love and ‘Section 2’s plain joy (that’s ‘Solider Girl’ and ‘It’s The Sun’ if you prefer) are soul-building solid gold. Every single touch is so lovingly delivered, and when there are a total of 240 fingers working on that it’s no mean feat. It is so inexplicably huge that if it isn’t actually deeply spiritually bound, as it seems, you’ve already convinced yourself otherwise and taken that leap of faith. It’s like the Flaming Lips’ ‘Soft Bulletin’ on happy pills. It’s Mercury Rev with their arms spread at the peak of the Catskill Mountains, rather than living in their shadows. The silver lining on every cloud. A hearty pat on the back. A better follow up to ‘Soft Bulletin’ than the ‘Lips managed themselves? Thank God, or whoever or whatever you deem fit, each and every single night for this album.