The Flaming Lips and Cannabis Culture

The opening band Stardeath and White Dwarfs were about a minute into Black Sabbath's 'Sweet Leaf' when the pungent odor of marijuana wafted to me from across the LC Pavilion. It was the night of September 18, and all of the fearless freaks, punk rock acid casualties, and psychedelic-costumed fruits and body parts in Columbus were gathered in one place for a pivotal end-of-summer event. The Flaming Lips were in town to celebrate New Years in their special way; with confetti, laser pointers, giant hamster balls, and complete disregard for the fact that the New Year occurs between December 31 and January 1.

'Stardeath' played some very entertaining vaguely electronic rock and roll, ending with a cover of Madonna's 'Borderline,' a crowd favorite. I would definitely recommend picking up their album. Ultimately, though, everyone was there to see the Flaming Lips, and with reason. The Lips proceeded to get the entire place quaking under a bacchanalian sea of love and good vibes reminiscent of the Age of Aquarius, from their birth through a pulsing technicolor vagina on a projection screen to the opener 'Race for the Prize.'

Frontman Wayne Coyne professed the importance of pot several times throughout the concert, though it seemed to me that the proper way to enjoy the Lips would be a few micrograms of some lysergic bliss. Indeed, with bananas in the crowd and yetis flanking the band on stage, it seems that the Lips' live show may be the trippiest one around.

The band was on tour in support for their new LP 'Embryonic,' a rhythmic affair heavily influenced by krautrock bands CAN and Faust, as well as the psychedelic rock of Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd. The Lips performed several new songs; the standout tracks were 'Silver Trembling Hands' and 'Convinced of the Hex.'

Of course, most of the concert were old favorites; the Lips aim to please. 'Pompeii am Götterdämmerung,' 'Enthusiasm for Life Defeats Existential Fear,' and 'Fight Test' (a new stop/start version which I had never heard before) were all in the setlist.

For this tour, the Flaming Lips were providing a special service to the fans. If you purchased a ticket, you were given a code which would give you access to a live bootleg of your concert. Unfortunately, Kliph Scurlock - the drummer - had a migraine and the band was wary of recording the show because their performance could have suffered. Lucky for all of us concert-goers, there are several devoted Lips fans which took the matter of recording the show into their own hands. See below:

"Enthusiasm For Life Defeats Existential Fear" The Flaming Lips HD 09/18/2009 from Jeremy Sewell on Vimeo.

Pitchfork, Please!

Lost, drowning, flailing in a sea of gently worn plaid, and separated from your friends who possess your hotel key. Do you whip out your phone and desperately text your vanished comrades? Do you find a festival authority to tattle on the 16-year-olds smoking the pot they pulled from day-glo orange fannypacks? Or do you plug your nose and gallantly climb to the top of the line of Porta-Potties for a better vantage point?

Tall trees: alternative to toilets

If you answered C (*see footnote*), you have the skills to survive Pitchfork Music Festival. Or, you might have an unhealthy fixation with public toilets.

The Dutchess & The Duke... fun for 15 minutes or so.

Being a first-time attendee this summer, I imagined Pitchfork’s gathering of Midwest music snobs as a magical melee bursting with heavenly noise and radiating an aura of pure coolness. Pretty quickly, though, the irritating truths heavily sank in, anchoring my cognitions to reality. The overdose of plaid shirts and those annoying, little-kid, tiny caps paired with oversized black sunglasses pushed my peaceful tolerance of stereotypes to its limit. Beer came in tiny plastic cups and your ensuing tab cost more than what you paid for your ticket; fortunately, staying away from beer meant avoiding the huge, amorphous lines for what was not enough toilet but way too much smell.

Feral children of Union Park

Really though, I was pleasantly surprised with Pitchfork’s smooth operation. Getting in was quick – and though you’ll never sneak in your Dasani with the cracked seal, have no fear if you want to bring some herbal inspiration. Except for a few standouts, the crowds win the anonymity contest, but were easygoing, generally polite, and appropriately sized for Union Park. Also, shows actually started on time. Except for some bigger names toward the end of the days – i.e. Grizzly Bear and the headliners – my locations on the lawn weren’t overly claustrophobic and came with pretty good views.

Go vision, go!

The food. The food, the food, the food. It was delicious. It doesn’t matter that I ate off my chest and the shoulders of my compatriots, standing in a tiny circle with food balanced precariously on paper plates. The fried vegetables were my favorite, but the fritters and spicy chicken cube things) were pretty mindblowing.

Of course, it’s all about the music. The way the stages were scheduled, I never had a problem choosing who to see. I was a little disappointed with the headliners: The National was anticlimactic, and the testosterone fueled aggressiveness toward balloons dampened my enjoyment of The Flaming Lips. However, the Lips played lots of their famous standards and won points for entering the stage through a giant vagina. Women’s droning guitar work was a major highlight, along with Ponytail’s spastic energy and Grizzly Bear’s haunting selections from Veckatimest. Seeing Doom (or at least, his mask) was a biggie as well.

Besides a few really obnoxious performances (though I’m not surprised I’m not crazy about a band called “F***ed Up”), Pitchfork was a blast. And with the money you save on the cheap tickets, you can maybe even afford a hotel room instead of sleeping in your friend’s apartment crawlspace.

Oh, yeah – and Chicago is really cool. Observe:




***I really did see a smelly man running across the Porta-Potties.***

Hope You Didn't Cheat...

...because this has all been a test. We haven't been...not posting, we've been testing the bounds of your loyalty. And since you've checked back today, like the faithful followers you are, you get the complete forecast for tonight's meeting (Aviation Building, room 201, 7:30). I predict music trivia based on The Daily Chord, with a 100% chance of prizes. Also watch out for blistering music industry discussion winds in the controversial topic area. Finally, don't forget your umbrella, because it's raining project meetings!

It's a twister, it's a twister!

If you show up tonight, I promise to drop all annoying weather metaphors.

At last week's meeting, we were graced by the presence of the MME program's newest addition, Mark Rubinstein. The friendships he made as a professional musician has led to a lengthy and varied career, and his advice is obviously given from the viewpoint of a real musician. Though to be successful in the music industry, you might have to move to a big city and grudgingly make "some money to throw" at your product, Mark believes you should and can create a product that reflects your true artistic intentions.

Mark (rubenstein.11@osu.edu) is obviously a great go-to guy for recording, performance, and industry questions. And if you drop by his office in 307 Mershon, or take one of his audio courses, remember to ask him about his time as 14-year-old drummer for The Rejects. I'm sure he's got some stories.

Picture of Mark nabbed from cool write-up at http://www.sacurrent.com/special/story.asp?id=68436