As far as live acts go, The Flaming Lips might just be the best live band around. Big statement, huh? Springsteen, U2, all great, blah, blah, blah. Sure, they might rock you, but the Flaming Lips love you. You can see it in their faces as they help set up the instruments, making sure that the cerebral decadence that is about to envelope your eyes and alight your soul is going to come out right. Because in the end, it's all for you. And if you've been initiated into the tribe--the cult of the Lips--you know this going into a Lips show; your expectations are mammoth, and anticipation is your fuel.
Anticipation was indeed high as the side stage performers (handpicked audience members costumed as yetis and caped kittens) started taking their spots. As I waited for Edgefield to turn into Smileville and Confetti Central Station, I realized that one rarely is able to revert back to this childlike state of unadulterated happiness. And this feeling—unique to Lips' shows—eclipses the regular run-of-the-mill concert. Don't get me wrong. You put me in a metal show, I happily go agro. You put me in front of some melodramatic band, and I contentedly go inside my head for awhile. However, there is something about going to see something this joyful, something this intent on forging a bond between band and audience that is so refreshing and so necessary in this day and age of dwindling social contact.
So, with the sky still blue and the kids all ready, the orange arched screen lit up with the sight of a stripped down woman dancing. After some time, the screen focused in on her radiating Technicolor vagina, as she assumed a position that let us know she was either ready for love or ready to give birth. It was, in fact, the latter, as the screen opened, and Steven Drozd walked out, arms triumphantly in the air. Cheers erupted, and the rest of the band followed. Where was Wayne Coyne, the glorious ringleader? He was inflating his famous bubble to walk into the crowd's waiting arms. And walk he did (and crawl and giggle). When Coyne returned to the stage, he grabbed his confetti gun, and the band launched into the perfect show opener: "Race for the Prize."
The confetti canons blanketed the sky, and instantly they had us. Anybody unconverted was taken into the fold in that second. And for those who haven't seen the Lips before, it's a party. There are giant balloons bouncing back and forth, confetti guns, pulsing light boxes, lasers, smoke belching megaphones and most importantly, great music. It's sensory overload wrapped in the joy of feeling alive.
Urging the crowd to sing, the band led us through slow tempo versions of "Fight Test" and "Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots Pt. 1." Coyne milked every drop out of us, with a big smile on his face and a lone fist in the air. More sing-a-longs came by way of "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" (people sure love screaming "with all your POWER!") and "She Don't Use Jelly," which is still as fun as it was when I first taped it off the radio as a kid. The sound of our collective voices swelled in the night, and we gave everything we could to a band that has made a career of giving everything to their audience.
My favorite moment of the night was when a man in a giant faced gorilla mask put Coyne on his shoulders as Wayne launched into song. There's just never a time in your day where you think you are going to see a grown man sing from atop a gorilla. Well played, sir.
The show came to a close with the one song encore of "Do You Realize?" Amidst another confetti bombardment that had me looking at the ground and wondering if I was in fact lost at the greatest New Year's party, I sang my last words and realized that they had again surpassed my expectations. And I couldn't have been happier.
I leave you with this petition. Whether you are young or old, happy or sad, open- or close- minded, at least once in your life, make the pilgrimage to a Flaming Lips show. I challenge you to claim they didn't give you one of the best nights of your life. Every Lips show is a thrilling experience of connection and a place where all colors bleed into one.
