As everyone in the world already knows, Wayne Coyne spends most of his time thinking of new ways to explode confetti and giant balloons into swarms of people. But only the people close to the stage actually get to leave with confetti in their HAIR. Which is why approximately one billion Flaming Lips fans eagerly licked their chops on the outskirts of a Michael Franti set, ready to claim their posts as soon as all that overly emphatic jumping and smiling ended. I, among these weird-rock carnivores, was prepared to sit for three hours to get the full Flaming Lips experience. After the milling, the pushing, the groaning, and the immediate feelings of regret subsided, we were all packed like peeps in front of the Which Stage, prepared to endure our self-induced torture. Sitters and standers segregated themselves in the refugee camp of FLips fans. I, a sitter, passed the time watching a bespectacled dude who had dosed too early go through the stages of psychedelia in a forrest of legs and and butt-proximity related humidity.
When the lights went down, the giant half-circle LCD screen glowed and music began to roll over the crowd. A technicolor lady, more naked than Eve (Hello, Bond opening credits) danced into view, layed down, and spread her legs. As the camera zoomed in pulsations of color began emitting from where everyone was looking. Out of the origin of these rainbow waves, a door opened and the band emerged. Herein commenced the confetti explosions, the human sized inflatable hamster ball designed to allow Coyne to crowd surf germ-free, the giant paper mache hands that shot out lasers at even bigger disco balls, and other absurdities.
Although this could all could arguably be a planned distraction from the fact that FLips has no well-known recent original material, I was very pleased with the take that Coyne and crew had on Dark Side of the Moon. The two hour set was split half and half between Lips material, and a cover of the entire Pink Floyd album. The old material was fantastic with Coyne keeping his banter short and to the point, although he was surprisingly aggressive about crowd participation, demanding that hooting and hollering be kept on "high." I don't think anyone has ever called me a mother f*#@!er that many times in one night. He even asked, almost angrily but completely incensed, "Why don't I smell more pot!?"
After a 15 minute intermission the Dark Side consumed us. The Lips were joined on-stage by Stardeath and the White Dwarfs, who brought more guitars, hand-drums, and cymbals into the mix. The musical material was true to the original but with the FLips signature of distorted vocals and just a tad more cymbal-crashing. The concert antics and effects stayed at a steady level throughout as well, with the confetti in balloons replaced with dollar bills during the rendition of "Money." Some say that if you see one Flaming Lips concert, you've seen them all. But the Dark Side has brought a new charm to the old tricks, making another elbow-filled trip to the front row entirely worth it. By the time "Brain Damage" started I was so over-stimulated I could do nothing more than let the sound wash over me, mouth agape. You win again Wayne, you win again.
