During the Tex Avery-style bacchanalia that is the modern Flaming Lips stage show, there's always one person who seems unmoved by the proceedings. One stoic individual who spends most of the show seated, apparently oblivious to the sights of Wayne Coyne encased in a balloon, to the twin armies of anthropomorphic animal-people dancing on either side of the stage, to the strobe lights. This man is indifferent as well to the flickering film clips projected in quick succession on the backdrop, and unheeding of the towering waves of pop majesty broadcasting from the speaker towers, waves that sound as if Brian Wilson and John Cale teamed up for the greatest album of... More >>>