The four year resurgence of the Flaming Lips

Some four years ago Captain America walked across a stage and told a crowd the show was done. Five songs into a Flaming Lips set list, the last ferries began to lift off the ports of Toronto Island. After a two-hour masturbatory Gnarles Barkley set, the Virgin Fest headliners were shut out of properly closing down the night.

We stamped our feet to sounds of the “Fuck Virgin” chants, but four years later I got my finally got the Flaming Lips show I’d purchased that ticket for. Wayne Coyne gave a warm welcome Saturday with a Korean by his side. In both languages he promised the strobes would be really bright.

Then a construction crew in highlight orange set a ramp up to the screen. A naked woman with a collar rocker danced to the opening track. Orange orbits sped past her until she opened up her legs. The v vibrated until the drummer opened up the door. The band walked out her lady parts, Coyne slipped in the bubble and bounced onto the crowd.

Confetti shot up the rafters, rained through the blinding lights. Balloons billowed out into the crowd, turned the venue into a McDonald’s playpen. They launched right into the hits, Jelly, Tangerines, and finally Robots.

Out came the stomach sized hands, pointed to the disco. Shot out the palms, the green rays bounced towards all corners. The cell phone cameras’ blue light backlit the lazers, creating a chorus calling for another song.

With Do You Realize echoing in ears, I walked out the doors towards the store and grabbed a roadie. On to Hongdae, a dumb grin and pockets full of confetti.