Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space
★★★★☆
Preface
Having heard Broken Heart before, I expected this to be a sorrowful romantic album—but it turned out to be about drugs. The sound is rich: plenty of brass, psychedelic guitar tones, clever metaphors, and strong lyrics. 1h 10m across 11 tracks. Not too weird, not too predictable. It sticks to its theme throughout. A solid, straightforward album with a beautiful cover and an excellent mix. It’s a conceptual piece—serious in tone, but beautifully presented and visualized. No mind-blowing musicianship (aside from the orchestral elements, which I assume aren’t part of the “band”), but still a well-crafted, beautiful album.
I can’t really say there’s anything I dislike. Everything feels well-placed—nothing feels excessive or missing. If anything, I might have wished for a more personal angle rather than focusing so much on social pathology. Then again, it does lean into the personal aspects of the issue. Also, I would’ve liked more musicianship; it felt slightly lacking in that area. Review
It starts off wholesome, sweet, and warm—then builds into a wall of sound. A bit overwhelming at times, but I trust the music. I hear “I will love you ‘til I die”—and that’s sweet enough. Still, there’s a seriousness to it, especially with the medical beeping that opens the second track.
The album’s title is from the philosophical novel Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder, the context being:
Only philosophers embark on this perilous expedition to the outermost reaches of language and existence. Some of them fall off, but others cling on desperately and yell at the people nestling deep in the snug softness, stuffing themselves with delicious food and drink. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” they yell, “we are floating in space!” But none of the people down there care.
“Little Johnny’s sad and fucked”; Come Together talks about a little boy with an ape on his back that needs feeding. The metaphors begin here. Based on the intro, I’m guessing the ape represents either drugs or modern life’s overwhelming pace. Another build-up to a massive wall of sound. It reminds me, if just by title, of The Beatles’ “Come Together.”
I Think I’m In Love starts off dissonant and hazy—reinforcing the idea that drugs are the main theme. Especially with the line “we’re floating in space.” Vocoder vocals? Yep, there it is: “warm as dope,” a direct drug reference. The big band sound reminds me of the surreal dance scene from Mulholland Drive: so cheerful, it’s unsettling.
All Of My Thoughts is a love song at first—but then it hits with a bang. Intense drums, a wandering bassline, and heavy brass. It mirrors drug abuse: each verse is soaked in melancholy, boredom, and emotional absence—then flips into a chaotic, layered explosion of sound. It’s the emptiness of heartbreak he can’t shake.
Stay With Me made me rethink things. Maybe this “love” isn’t a person after all, but the drug itself: “I love the way you slide, you make it all so fine.” Calm for most of the track until it shifts about three-quarters in—a saw wave introduces more instruments. Still musical, but warped. It feels like a sonic representation of distorted, heightened perception.
With Electricity, I catch some older textures—maybe The Doors with the organ, maybe early 2000s pop rock energy. A very present harmonica closes the track. There’s even a Hendrix nod with “gonna crash, kiss the sky”, referencing Purple Haze and confirming its psychedelic roots.
Home Of The Brave feels… off. It plays like a descent—the character convincing himself to “rip it up, tear it out,” and “fly high.” But even the high isn’t what he wants: “I don’t even miss you, but that’s ‘cause I’m fucked up.” I didn’t get the title at first. “Home of the Brave” is from the U.S. national anthem, so I expected political commentary. But there’s none, at least not directly.
The Individual is pure atmosphere. I assume it’s depicting his experience mid-high. No lyrics. No thoughts. Just emotion. Loud, formless voices bleed into reality’s edges. There’s no clear beginning (especially since Spotify played an ad right in the middle—bad timing for a concept album) and no clear end. Eventually, it fades. As all rushes do.
I’d heard Broken Heart before—it struck me as a melancholic love song. But now, within the album’s context, I understand its sadness better—even if it’s somewhat exaggerated. The instrumentation is the same—string pads, brass—but the mood is much heavier. It plays like a requiem for the rush that’s gone. Midway through, the strings take over and the vocals fall silent, as if he’s overwhelmed and drowning in emotion. The last flicker of “thought” disappears under the weight of memory and grief—the violins. And yet the rush of memory is just as addictive as the drug. Given how the album circles back to its themes, I expect the last track to tie into the opener—hinting that this loop never ends. Let’s see. The song ends softer, still sad. Predictable, but someone’s still crying. Then, it fades. The next track:
No God Only Religion is stunning! I love the marching drums and trumpets. Feels historic—folkish, psychedelic, and full of rage. A war is coming. It’s mystical, frightening, and—well, “spiritual”? The church bells at the end bring to mind Pink Floyd’s Fat Old Sun or High Hopes.
Then comes an anthem: Cool Waves Wash Over Me. The choir feels almost gospel-like—reminding me of church again. I imagine the album ends here, because the next track is 17 minutes long. Cop Shoot Cop is deeply psychedelic. I like the structure—reworking a prose fragment into different verses. I don’t fully understand the song’s concept, but I’m guessing it’s still drug-related. The hole in his arm is the syringe, which leads to a hole in his mind—and finally, he loses his grip on reason. The final line, “I Will Love You,” suggests this love-hate cycle continues—even after the album ends.