In an interview last year, Steven Drozd said of ‘The Terror’: “it’s the internal feeling you get that you and everyone you love is going to die.” Flaming Lips’ thirteenth album is ultimately founded in the weakness of mind and body – channelling the sort of empty soundscapes that made one of 2012’s standouts, Chromatics’ ‘Kill For Love’, so bleak but also so wholly and brutally compelling – and seems naturally inclined to fold in on itself, struggling to internalise this awareness of the human condition. In every respect, ‘The Terror’ is brooding – the vocal lines cry and lament, the instrumentation is propulsive but often callous and awkward, and each track is an exercise in the force of anti-climax. It is as desolate as it is honest, and flourishes because it taps into something so universal, so human and so beautiful, with such unusual relish.

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