Best Concert of the Past 12 Months

On June 7, 2003, the Flaming Lips cured cancer. Really. Every person in the audience that night felt it happen; the bitterness and pain and regret and recriminations that gnaw at your insides and leave you with a bellyful of dead black sludge were burned away by the incandescent joy of the Flaming Lips. Wayne Coyne, resplendent in white suit and oversized plastic Hulk fists, sang to us and for us, offering hope and encouragement, along with costumed animals, heart-shaped balloons and the sort of compassionate leadership we didn't know we were hungry for. When a girl in the audience asked Wayne if he would be her father figure, Wayne paused. "You mean like, be a role model?" he asked. "Someone to show you how to live, and offer advice? OK, yeah. Yeah, I will." The crowd erupted in cheers as the Lips embarked on another one of their gorgeous pop songs, and we were healed. Life was beautiful, we were a family and Daddy was going to sing us to sleep.