The Flaming Lips

The Flaming Lips have been one of my bucket list bands for ages, so I was happy just to be ticking them off tonight. What I didn’t quite expect—even after years of reading about how good they are live—is just how enjoyable the show would be.

The bulk of tonight’s setlist is taken from the band’s phenomenal 1999-2006 run, with virtually nothing performed from the last two decades. So, we’re firmly in legacy band territory—but what a legacy! Short of ever remembering 1995’s wonderful Clouds Taste Metallic exists, the band delivers almost everything you could reasonably want them to.

After a terrific opening run that features the spectacle of Yoshimi’s titular Pink Robots blown up to giant proportions, my first thought is, ‘How the fuck are they going to sustain this level for two hours?’ Well, they don’t, but they come pretty damn close. Broken up into two separate sets, there’s a couple of energy dips, but some of the detours they make are both unexpected and warranted.

There is a slight feeling at times of the show being too ‘on rails,’ but I suppose this is just a consequence of being a well-drilled touring outfit with elaborate staging to consider. I don’t want to spoil too many of the joyous surprises—and there are many, although I think it’s safe to say that most of them involve some sort of inflatable costume.

Frontman Wayne Coyne is a magnetic presence, although his constant exhortations of ‘keep yelling’ prove grating within minutes. Perhaps he could find time for a little more storytelling during song transitions, like when he shouts out uber-fan Amy on the front row who’s enjoying her 91st Flips show.

The crowd energy during the first set is admittedly a bit lacking, but this changes once the sun goes down and the band comes out swinging for Round two with a glorious one-two punch of ‘Race for the Prize’ followed by ‘She Don’t Use Jelly,’ accompanied by the release of giant balloons into the gleeful audience. The high points from now on are deliriously high, including a walloping rendition of Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’ which more than earns its place in the business end of the set.

The Irish poet W. B. Yeats once described sex and death as the only topics that can be of interest to a serious mind. Coyne’s twin obsessions are love and death, to the point of monomania. Even this hardened cynic finds it pretty hard not to be moved when the band performs their thesis statement, ‘All We Have Is Now.’ Encouraging us all to do our best to live in the moment, new song ‘Every Teardrop Cried’ is preceded by the reveal that one of Coyne’s older brothers had died just 11 days ago while the band was on tour. Still, the suffering is usually paired with silliness, like when Coyne sings a heartwrenching cover of Daniel Johnston’s ‘True Love Will Find You In the End,’ inexplicably dressed in a Wonder Woman bathrobe.

Switching up their usual encore, the band finishes with a rousing rendition of ‘A Spoonful Weighs a Ton.’ Putting this much good energy back into the world is a real accomplishment, and the whole crowd leaves beaming from ear to ear.