If all you recall of this album is the charmingly goofy "She Don't Use Jelly", please reacquaint yourself with one of the best psych rock albums of the early 90s. Unhinged lyrics and layers of absolutely massive guitars can't cover the underlying sweetness of the songs. It's like someone hired a punk band for the sock hop, dosed the punch, and in the end, everyone finds the cool Jesus.
The Flaming Lips - Transmissions from the Satellite Heart
