Bag 'o' Pipes

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Mission Accomplished

Balloons, confetti, multiple Santa's and aliens all have equal parts in making a Flaming Lips live show endlessly enjoyable and unforgettable, albeit unfathomable. Unfathomable because why are these old, played out party objects, and mythical beings, endlessly enjoyable and unforgettable? Why will I remember these two shows (Thursday in Burlington VT, & Sunday in Boston, MA) made up of these properties for the rest of my life as two of the best concerts ever? Why will I rank these shows above Pink Floyd in '95 or over the triple billing of Faith No More, Metallica and Guns 'n' Roses in '92? The excellence and magistry of these two shows is due to the mystical madness of Wayne Coyne and the musical genius of Steven Drozd. It's because everyone in attendance lets their inhibitions go and has fun. It's because of Yoshimi and that creepy nun puppet. It's because this show was developed and produced to take away all that is sad, depressing and angry in the world and transforms it into cohesion with your neighbor, where you actually see eye to eye on everything for the time being. Especially when all that exists within this time frame is true ecstasy and bliss. This is a sonic experience of momentous proportions. This is your vision being transfixed on something that you can't explain, rationalize of recreate and you absolutely love it. This is your ears listening to the music of angels when you have crossed the threshold and there is no longer anything to worry about or fear. They can take an indoor show and make you feel like it is outdoors and you have all the space in the world to spread your arms and dance in circles, even though you have a thousand or more Burlington Vermont, dredlock laden, olfactory invading, modern day hippies all around you. They can take an outdoor show and make it intimate and close like you are in the fourth row dead center, but you are actually in the nosebleed section of an outdoor amphitheater with your back against the outer perimeter fence. (I actually got fourth row center tickets for the Boston show @ 11:30 pm the night before the show. Mind Blowing!)
I am surprised that the FLips do not have more of a following akin to the Grateful Dead. I am amazed that more people have not devoted their lives to the vision and mission of world peace, happiness and cohesion through total domination and massaging of the senses that the Lips seem to be on. I know that they have a very wide range of audience members, but it is bewildering that more people are not talking about this experience and subscribing to it. Preaching this show / experience like the gospel of Luke or the word of God. Screaming it from rooftops and purchasing Superbowl ad space for it. This can be this realities soma, or new prozac for that matter. A therapeutic experience that costs no more than a few bucks with no side effects or guilt.
Now I am not a superstitious man, but I feel like something was willing me to go to the Thursday show. On Wednesday in the A.M. I had decided not to go. I couldn't talk anybody into joining me and I wasn't really looking forward to a four hour journey by myself, for a three hour show only to get back into the badlarry vehicle for a four hour journey back to Worcester. But, as I toiled away at my desk my media player (while set on random) played three Lips songs in succession. I had to check to see if I had changed the setting at some point sub-consciencly, but it was still on random. Out of 54 hours of music that is stored on the player it had randomly chosen three consecutive songs to play by the same artist. The very artist I was supposed to see the next day! O.K. it is not really all that weird, but still not all that normal. After close to four years of working on that machine with the same media player, never has it played three songs by the same artist back to back to back, two yes, but three was a first and has yet to happen again. So this is not a glaring sign or a burning bush, but in it's own right still note worthy.
So, I finish out the day looking forward to a few days off, ran some errands and got back to the abode. I turn the tube on to the Sundance Channel to see what's on, turns out to be a film entitled, Fearless Freaks. Interesting title eh, lets check it out to see what it is about. Low and behold it is a documentary about the Flaming Lips, with among other things testimonials from fans about how great their live shows are! So it starts to click with me that someone / thing is telling me to make the trek. I felt like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams without the voice, the corn or the baseball. I'm not into coincidences or fate, and I don't really believe in a higher being, but I do believe that I was supposed to experience this show. There was some sort of concerted effort put forth by some sort of cosmic force to get me to witness this phenomenon.
The rest as they say, is history. I have completed my mission (in a way) to finding the meaning of life. Which is, sometimes a spoonfull weighs a ton and sometimes you will feel yourself disintergrate, but don't let the sound of failure get you down keep on being a free radical because do you realize that all we have is now!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

This has everything to do with your mission accomplished and I have my own that I wnat to share with you all. Mine, for one, is the satisfaction of seeing a band that I love so deeply....Tool. On September 29th, 2006 I, and my loving wife, will embark on a journey to see a band that I have grown a deep, soul-felt connection to through out the years, as did my parent's generaton to bands such as The Doors, The Beatles, The Marshall Tucker Band and of course, Pink Floyd. This connection that I have felt for years could only be explained by euphoria. When you hear certain beats and rhythms one just glows with an iridescente glow, well that's Tool for me. I hope that in the days to come all of you that read and adhear to this blog realize that music, no matter what you listen to always hits the heart and soul of it's listner!

10:10 PM  

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