The Flaming Lips and Modest Mouse came to Berkeley Sunday night near the tail end of their summertime co-headlining "Good Times Are Killing Me Tour.” A groovy gathering of punk rockers, hippies, and freaks of all colors and ages assembled for the festivities in the venerable Greek Theatre.
Roadies were still blowing up giant balloons on the side of the stage when fans began filling the amphitheater on a warm weekend evening. (More about those balloons later.) The audience sported a disparate yet oddly homogenous Bay Area collection of tie dyes, black concert t-shirts, and sparkly rave jackets.
The nearly-sold out crowd was a motley assortment of fun-lovin’ folks, many with visible tattoos and piercings, and everyone with broad smiles. Their clothes advertised allegiances to a wide variety of other bands, including the Grateful Dead, Bikini Kill, Beyoncé, Bob Seger, the Pixies, Primus, and the Scorpions. A mom was wearing her Misfits shirt, her teenager dressed in his Beatles tee.
Your humble reporter observed that Flaming Lips shirts outnumbered Modest Mouse garb by about three-to-one. And to be honest, they were the band I came to see too.
The Flaming Lips are a 90s post-punk alt-rock band. Or they’re a brigade of flower children teleported from the 60s. Or maybe they’re a psychedelic, 70s-ish pseudo-prog rock thing. Or maybe they don’t really exist, they’re just a bunch of anime comic book panels set to a phantastic soundtrack. The latter seems most likely.
True story: As far as I know, I’ve only been mistaken for a rock star once. I was in a restaurant in Medford OR eating a hamburger, and I noticed a waitress had been eyeing me for some time. She finally approached timidly and asked, “Is your name Wayne?” When I said no, she asked if I had ever heard of a band called The Flaming Lips. Why yes, I had heard of them!
Like many of their fans, I got turned on by their masterpiece album Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. The 2002 release melded a benign silliness with enigmatic poignancy. Yoshimi also had some damn good earworm melodies.
Over the years since, I’ve seen them bring that same mélange in live performances several times. I’ve been amused by the hordes of dancing Martians in green miniskirts and Santa Clauses they bring up to dance on stage. I’ve been in the throng with their biggest fans inundated by the balloons and confetti lead singer Wayne Coyne launches from the stage. I’ve held my arms up to help Coyne himself “stroll” above the audience encased in a ten-foot-tall see-through ball.
Sunday’s show was no different. The Lips closed the double bill in Berkeley with 75 minutes of the hits and fan faves they’ve expertly crafted over their decades-long career. There were the oldies: “She Don’t Use Jelly” and “Turn It On” from their breakthrough 1993 record Transmissions from the Satellite Heart. There was their megahit “Do You Realize?” And a cover of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” that proved to be the biggest singalong of the night. And yes, there were colorful balloons bouncing around the pit all night.
The current version of the Lips includes Coyne on vocals and Steven Drozd on guitars, keys, and vocals. They’re the only two people on stage who were in the band when they recorded all their hits. Current touring members include Derek Brown (keyboards, guitars, percussion), Matt Duckworth Kirksey (drums), and Tommy McKenzie (bass).
The Lips make singing along easy. Their live show features a giant pixelated screen filling the entire backdrop of the stage with bursts of color and a karaoke-like feed of all the lyrics. Which is just one facet of the visual feast that makes every Lips show a party.
And oh, what visuals! Giant pink balloon robots filled the stage for the title track from Yoshimi while the audience gleefully chimed in on the karate chop “hi-ya” parts. Rigs with lights that mimic exploding fireworks stretched out on the sides of the stage. For a version of the Lips’ Chemical Brothers collab “The Golden Path,” Coyne sang while getting hugged from behind by a “cast member” in a blow-up shining sun costume.
On this tour, the Lips also included two songs from At War with the Mystics, their often overlooked 2006 psycho-trippy follow-up to Yoshimi. “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song (With All Your Power)” is one of those perfectly balanced silly-serious things the Lips do so well. The uber-Pink Floyd’ish “Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung” delivered on its promise of sturm und drang.
Coyne used to eat up a lot of stage time with expanded monologues, but he’s been more restrained in recent years. Even so, he took several moments on Sunday to thank David Katznelson, the guy who brought them to the attention of Warner Brothers oh so many years ago to kick off their recording career. (I’m going to take the opportunity to name-drop that I’ve been friendly with David for several years through mutual acquaintances, and it was only recently I found out he had anything to do with the Lips.)
Coyne was effusive about Katznelson, who I am guessing was in the house somewhere. “He’s one of the great visionaries of the music scene. We were lucky that he loved us and convinced some people at Warner Brothers that they should put out our records. We’re all lucky sometimes when some angel comes and lifts you up enough that you can do anything.” So yeah, thanks for the Flaming Lips, David!
Coyne also did his usual bit of teasing the audience with sappy superlatives. “Thank you for being so easily provoked into being so enthusiastic. Anyone who came here with a little distrust wondering what the fuck tonight was gonna be – you have given them the greatest night of their life!”
Later, he said this was “possibly the greatest show we’ve ever played!” By the time he donned an American flag during the encore and climbed into that giant inflatable see-through orb to sing “Race for the Prize,” that claim might somehow have proven true.
And yes, there was also Modest Mouse!
Modest Mouse kicked off their career in the 90s. They honed their chops for a decade and then caught the indie/alt rock and roll wave in the early aughts with “Float On.” They were in heavy rotation back then on college and alternative radio alongside compatriots like The Killers and Arcade Fire.
In its current incarnation, Modest Mouse is essentially iconic singer and guitarist Isaac Brock and a backing band of more modest mice. None of the other band members were present for any of the hit-making years. Having said that, Modest Mouse is one of those bands where it’s all about the frontman. So it’s all good.
The ardent Mouse fans were thrilled to hear Brock bust out their megahit “Float On” early in the set. They were equally thrilled with his delivery of “Dashboard” and “Dramamine.” Brock’s vocal delivery is as distinctive as ever, with a tone and timbre that escapes comparison. The crowd’s eyes wandered occasionally to guitarist Simon O’Connor on Brock’s right hand or bassist Russell Higbee on his left, but they always returned to the engaging, dynamic mouse in the middle.
As the set progressed, Modest Mouse stretched out on a few songs, notably “Tiny Cities Made of Ashes” from 2002’s The Moon & Antarctica. They followed that with a new one, “Third Side of the Moon,” which is not yet released in any format but has been in live rotation for about a year.
Brock’s songs are often catchy, with guitar instrumental bits that are less flashy and more tuneful. They’re the kind of melodic, riffy guitar interludes that you can hum along to. The set-closing “Night on the Sun” is among those. Brock’s interplay with bassist Higbee was one of the most spirited turns of the night.
The tour has alternated between two different opening bands playing ahead of the headliners. I’m going to give a shout out here to one of those: Friko, one of my favorite up-and-coming alt-rock bands. I was disappointed they weren’t on the bill at the Greek.
The opening band on this stop of the tour was Dehd. Emily Kempf (bass, vocals), Jason Balla (guitar, vocals), and Eric McGrady (drums) hail from Chicago. The trio’s songs alternate between lead vocals by Kempf and Balla. Hints of Siouxsie and the Banshees, Florence and the Machine, and the Pixies. Gotta love that McGrady plays standing up and has no bass drum. Points for that.
I met Kayla from the Central Valley. She summed up my impression: “They should let the guy sing all the songs. He’s much more interesting.”
Endearingly though, Kempf gave wry shout-out early in the set. “What’s up New York!” Later, she praised the agreeable crowd: “One of the best crowds. You win!”
