The Black Lips - Sing In A World That's Falling Apart [Indie Exclusive Limited Edition Red LP] | RECORD STORE DAY

back to top

RecordStore Day

Thank you for choosing to buy locally from a record store!

Buy Now

Store Distance Phone Buy
Loading...

You can explore 3 ways to buy:

Find and visit a Local Record Store and get phone number and directions (call first, there is no guarantee which products may be in stock locally)

Purchase now from a local store that sells online

Purchase digitally now from recordstoreday.com (which serves local record stores)

These Indie stores carry most genres and you may want to also check with them

Store Distance Phone
Loading...

Find a local store

(Please call first)

More Info:

Itís country music but not as we know it which begs the question: Have these Bad Kids of 21st Century rock íní roll finally grown up on their ninth studio album? Are they at peace with themselves? Have they made a record their parents could listen to? The Black Lips new album ĎSing In A World Thatís Falling Apartí continues to flick the middle finger to one and all. This ainít another gaggle of bearded southern sons fleeing their collective suburban upbringings and collegiate music education. There arenít the usual clichťs about drinking, honkytonks, and heartbreak. These are, after all, the same Black Lips who rescued the waning garage punk subgenre by not sounding or dressing their musical predecessors. They also dug contemporary hip-hop and punk and actualized themselves Like so many dramatic moments in the Black Lips career, ĎSing In A World Thatís Falling Apartí was born out of crisis. The bandís stylistic evolution through decades of prolific touring and recording took them where no garage punk band had gone before - huge venues, network television shows, and major music festivals. Here Black Lips are at their grimiest, most dangerous and equipped with the best collection of songs since the aughts. Skidding onto the asphalt in a shower of sparks, they roll on with an unapologetic southern-fried twang, pacing the beast, every now and then dropping a psycho howl into the rubber room madness lurking underneath the truckstop fireworks. This ainít your grannyís country album. And conversely this ainít your mamaís Black Lips.