Pure Joy, for a change

I've just come home from The Flaming Lips show at the Phoenix, and I’m glad I bought my ticket in advance, albeit on Ebay. Competition for last minute entry was fierce. A nice guy with friends behind me in line bought his ticket outside, in the cold, after waiting and begging for hours. He got his from a sobbing girl from Tokyo, who was turned away at the door for being under nineteen years of age. She said they were her favourite band. She charged him $70 - what she said she’d paid. Just before that, he nearly bought a ticket from a father-daughter pair, the daughter being another devastated, crying underager.

Onstage, Wayne Coyne was conciliatory, aware that many Torontonians had been shut out of the sold-out show. Between songs he kept promising to come back soon, and often, and in a bigger venue. And he really seemed to mean it, I mean, he seemed humble and empathetic.

And oh, was it a great show! There is still confetti falling from my hair onto my keyboard… They played a variety of songs, from the hits like “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1” and “She Don’t Use Jelly” to a cover of “Bohemian Rhapsody” to the lovely mortality ballad "Do You Realize?" Always theatrical, they used giant balloons, projectile streamers, a megaphone, a kid’s toy thingamajig that played cow and duck sounds (viciously altered & amplified, of course), and were flagged by a chorus of Santas on stage left (representing Christianity) and a duelling flock of aliens (representing Scientology) on stage right. When the battle ensued, I couldn’t vie for either, though the aliens were tempting, and to my relief, the saucy drummer won instead. Whew!

The great thing about going to shows alone, and being rather not-tall in stature, is that I can worm my way to the front fairly easily. This time, my only complaint is that I was then amongst the tech-kids who were busy filming and taking photos with their various shiny, digital toys. I tried not to jostle them toooo much with my real-time enthusiasm!

Though they didn’t play “Fight Test”, which was disappointing, they closed the encores with a crazy cover of Sabbath’s “War Pigs”, played against a video collage of George W. and assorted Bush administration footage. Point well-taken, Wayne, and great job.

The constant, genuine grins on the bands’ mugs made the evening even better. What a celebration of creativity, and undisguised love for what they were doing.

If I only I saw that much actual joy in the literary world. But we’re all too busy being so fucking depressed, aren’t we?

Speaking of which, the Griffin shortlist will be announced in a few short hours. I doubt that me and my two little bulldozers will be dancing, but that’s okay, we’re pretty tired out after all the fun tonight.

FIGHT TEST by the Flaming Lips

Cheers.