The Black Lips
Good Bad Not Evil
(Vice, 2007)

The Black Lips’ new record, Good Bad Not Evil, belongs at a parking lot beer bust under the blazing hot sun. Or in your iPod headphones by yourself on a blanket in the park. Or as background noise for when you’re making dinner with some pals. What I’m saying is, this record will burrow its way into your mood, wherever you are, whomever you’re with. Good Bad Not Evil is invigorating. It relaxes, energizes, inspires, calms, and rises in a way that few other albums this year have been capable.

The Black Lips again achieve their signature garage sound and execute it with style every step of the way. It comes so naturally to them. They’re young, high-energy lads who’ve remained true to the sound that defines them, but not to a fault. Sure, they’re not getting all experimental on us, but they’re a band that knows how to nurture what they do best. Their bluesy lyrics are swamped in Southern soul—god forbid this band ever leaves Atlanta, or at least I hope they stay in the South forever, because you can feel the humidity rising from this record—they’ve created an atmosphere that swallows you whole. The 13 short songs (or 14, if you count the hidden track at the end) on Good Bad Not Evil are a collective bunch; beginning with “I Saw A Ghost (Lean)”, the warm murky waters descend into an old-timey, rootsy feel and don’t relent. It’s gritty alright, but also psychedelic, and also punk rock, and also full of countrified layers of whirling, howling sounds. “O Katrina!” is, of course, about that nasty hurricane (“O Katrina, why you gotta be so mean? / You broke my heart way down in New Orleans / I can’t believe what I saw on the TV screen”) and is as rousing as a song can get about a killer storm that hit not so far from where they themselves reside. “Veni Vidi Vici” is a jaded religious tune, probably a result of them being engulfed by Southern Baptists in their native land. (“People look towards Mecca’s way / Sistine Chapel people pray / It don’t matter what you do / Holy World War will come for you.”) They address religious cynicism again in “Transcendental Light”: “Burning sensations / Reincarnations / Come on home with me / Sunday mornings / Fearful warnings / Never meant that much to me.”

The tale “Bad Kids” is about bad kids, go figure, and after rattling off a list of juvenile offenses, like stealing, throwing hissy fits, drinking Grandpa’s schnapps, and runnin’ from the cops, they spray-paint a penis on the bathroom wall. The pedal-steeled country tune, “How Do You Tell a Child That Someone Has Died” is lighthearted in its delivery, but that’s a pretty bleak sentiment. And that there is the essence of this record: their subject matter is compelling and profound (from war to destruction to death), but it’s all masked under the pretense of jest and up-tempo arrangements that makes this all so thoroughly awesome to listen to, while also retaining a lot of substance in its themes. They’re made of deep Southern steel, these dudes, and have a core of serious intensity, but they’re soft and funny enough to absorb all kinds of suffering and crap and spit it back out with gutsy style. Even the liner notes are campy and hilarious. In their preface to the Doorsy sounding “Lock & Key” they write: “I’m often perplexed by the sheer magnitude that inhabits some of the more sophisticated Black Lips compositions. We never cease to amaze ourselves.”

“Transcendental Light” which is, of course, about death, gives way into a totally spooky hidden track that perfectly wraps up the record. Other notable asides: the band doesn’t delve into love or relationships, apart from the yowling tale “Navajo”, in which they fall in love with a Native American girl… or maybe it’s in love with all things Native American, as they chant “Could be Cherokee, Inuit, Etowah, Navajo / Sioux, Creek, Apache, Seminole.” You feel that these guys reject the current trends of today, but have become so natively American that they uphold a noble patriotism. They’d probably laugh at me if I said that, though. They’re just doing their thing, and they’re having the greatest time ever doing it. And you can like it or can you leave it, but I suggest you give it a listen, because I think it’s one of the best releases of the year so far.

Listen: “Cold Hands” [at ViceRecords.com]