Pitchfork news tells us that Steve Burns -- the striped rugby shirt-wearing fella who formerly hosted the wildly popular kid's show "Blue's Clues" -- is recording an album of songs about "love and science." With the non-Wayne Coyne members of the Flaming Lips and Dave Fridmann. Which seemed more than a little odd. The first thing I did was forward Burns' web page address, because now that he is a self-confessed "rock godlet" with a post-Pee-Wee indie look and sense of humor that bordered on the precious, the world (or four of my friends) needed to know. The second thing I did is wish that I wasn't so wishy-washy and just got the damn DSL line already (or had not called in sick to work) so I didn't have to wait untl Monday to hear the damn songs.

The third thing I did was finally get excited about the new Flaming Lips album.

Where I had been expecting some sort of Spirtitualized or Mercury Rev-style disappointment (the breakthrough album -- but bigger!), I now have hope. Not just because this displays a humble sense of adventure, but because it and, in a way, "Blue's Clues," remind me of the things I love about The Soft Bulletin and its tour. (Which, I confess, I saw about seven times over the course of three years, in venues ranging from a carpeted union hall to a Ribfest parking lot. The Lips are one of these bands, along with Low and Guided by Voices, that seem to use Chicago as an ATM.) That album and tour was to me, in some ways, a paean to unblinking sincerity (also embraced by the films of Wes Anderson, I'd say, and dead needed in what was a poker-faced indieland at the time); a celebration of the building blocks of love, hope and humanity (I mean, what better way than to illustrate the mechanism of love than with a beating heart?); and -- like "Blue's Clues" and "The Teletubbies," which was used as a visual -- a splendid interaction between performer and audience.

The secrets to "Blue's Clues"' success are convincing the kid in front of the tube that the host is talking to him or her, not at the child and creating the impression that this dialogue pleases and assures both participants. The host asks a question, the child (and offscreen children's voices) answer, the host is visibly pleased and the audience's reaction is reassured. It's a lot like a Flaming Lips show. Coyne challenges the audience, the audience responds, he beams, the audience doesn't feel self-conscious about its reaction to what it may have otherwise considered Tom foolery. Over the course of those seven or so shows I saw, Coyne was often visibly humbled that this carnival they created and this record with its unironic songs about having to create your own luck and hope when things seem lost or the small gestures that comforted him after the death of his father, among other earnest slices of psych pop, had moved so many. He was criticized for rolling out the same tour over and over again, but the look on his face when he'd apologize for his "weak" voice and thank the audience for letting him sing his songs, and that audience's joy at the simple, childlike pleasures of balloons or puppets was reason enough to let the shows go on.

Coyne led a celebration on New Year's Eve 2001 not by doing something spectacular himself, but by asking the audience to make a collective noise. He claimed something along the lines that the sound of voices in chorus and celebration has been scientifically proven to be mankind's favorite sound. Maybe that's true is, maybe it's not, but like Steve Burns, he and rest of the Flaming Lips understand the importance of making an honest connection to an audience. It's not such a crazy collaboration, and I'm finally looking forward to hearing and seeing what the Lips are going to do next.

Scott @ 10:47 AM