I'm still covered in confetti. I've seen a lot of rock shows in my time, and I've never seen anything like this.
I was having a crappy day, another working world Friday that wouldn't end no matter how much I tried to will it so. I have my gifts but my control over time is limited, sadly. The work day finally ended and I got home and had the latest in a series of arguments with Singalittle. To be fair, this time it was mostly my fault; all she did to provoke me was ask me to look in on her sick cat tomorrow.
I was in a bad mood, but there was plenty of reason for cheer. After all, I was going to see THE FLAMING LIPS--one of my favorite bands, a band I've followed for years, a band I've never seen live.
Office Mike (I still call him that even though we no longer work together) and his friends were running late so I met them at Webster Hall, an old dance hall that recently started hosting big-time rock shows. I caught the tail end of the opening band, Pink Mountaintops (don't ask), and still no sign of Mike and his new co-workers. I pushed closer, until I was within about 20 feet of the stage. Wayne Coyne, the salt-and-pepper, beaarded singer and guitarist for The Lips, took the stage to help the roadies set up for the show. In fact, the whole band was on stage, setting up their own equipment. Coyne oversaw everything with sharp attention to detail; he
cares, man. He piqued the audience's curiousity by flightchecking oddities like a camera tied to the microphone, a childrens' keyboard strapped to distortion pedals, and huge flashlights. Meanwhile, I could see what appeared to be dozens of costumed performers milling around backstage. I saw an alien, Santa, Jesus.
With Coyne's thumbs-up, everyone left the stage at about 8:40. They came back about 10 minutes later--I'm convinced they hit the stage early .Mike still wasn't there; we were guessing they would hit the stage at nine, and by that time, when he showed up with his co-workers, he had already missed the most amazing band introduction I've ever seen, not to mention half of Bohemian (fucking) Rhapsody, of all things.
The band hit the stage and played and instrumental song over a video introduction psyching up the crowd--out of context it's a little hokey, like much of the band's stage tricks. But in the moment it was powerful. The video promised a night to change everyone's life, a show that would change the world, etc. Coyne kept motioning for everyone to cheer, like a basketball player trying to rally the crowd during a close playoff game.
Then all of these things happened: The lights cut out; The Lips fired into "Race For the Prize," the song that hooked me on the band in the first place; a couple of dozen costumed performers hit the stage, dancing and waving flashlights on the outskirts of the stage; a hundred-or-so huge beach ball-like balloons fell from the ceiling; and the theater was flooded with enough confetti to make a ticker tape parade jealous. They also had flashing lights and smoke and soft-core porn on the huge video screen.
They followed up that dramatic opening with "Bohemian Rhapsody," which Coyne introduced as "A song many of you know, and I want you all to sing along and turn this into a big karaoke bar." True to the karaoke theme, the song lyrics were displayed on the video screen and everyone sang along, smiling.
The show was bookended with covers, ending with a spirited version of Black Sabbath's "War Pigs." In the middle, the band ripped through favorites like "Yoshimi," "The Gash," and "She Don't Use Jelly," as well as three new songs, "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song," "The Wand," and "Free Radical."
In the intro to set closer "Do You Realize??," one of the band's many sad songs wrapped around a pretty, upbeat melody, Coyne thanked the audience for putting up with the band's "uncool" sense of fun, explaining that they do everything they can to try to spread happiness. He said if there are a few fans in the crowd who are going through hard times, by playing along enthusiastically, the rest of the crowd passes along their entusiasm and gives someone who might be down the "best night of their life." Under other circumstances, a statement like that would have provoked a smug chuckle. But the Lips show was so incredibly enthusiastic and, you know, fun, that even the always stone-faced bouncers were caught up in the infectious positive energy. Speaking for myself, I wasn't exactly going through a major life crisis, but my bad mood was long gone by that point of the show.
After the show I walked outside to meet Mike and Co. across the street. I spotted a man wearing a t-shirt I own, a black shirt with GUIDED BY VOICES in white block letters. I motioned and said, "I have that shirt." He gestured at my shirt and said, "No shit"--I forgot, I was wearing my Guided by Voices shirt too. Instead of being embarassed, we both smiled and shrugged. It was that kind of show, that kind of night.
Note about the photos: I found them online here. None of these photos are from the concert I attended.
