On stage with Tame Impala, bassist Nick Allbrook is a pretty chill, somewhat stoic, performer. Fronting side project Pond, he is a man possessed – most likely by the spirit of James Brown. Substituting (or supplementing) the cannabinoid styling of his full time band with something a little more hallucinogenic, Pond were fucking awesome and proved to be a perfect fit for tonight’s support role.
Though highly reputable, The Flaming Lips live set is by no means a sanctimonious affair – the band are far too generous in that sense. Wayne preceded the performance by taking to the stage to offer his humble (and unwarranted) apology for their relatively brief Harvest set, declaring that tonight, however, had no limits.
Then the following happened: a giant glowing vagina, space bubble, an infinite supply of confetti guns, confetti cannons, a flock of babin’ Dorothys, Tin Men, Lions and Scarecrows, big balloons, The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song, a bigger balloon, She Don’t Use Jelly, a “That was a good one,” appraisal of a Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots singalong, giant laser-shooting hands one medium disco ball, one big disco ball, more confetti cannons, Race To The Prize, a gong called The Bong, Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung, more than a few “c’mon motherfuckers! C’mon c’mon c’mon!”, a freaky spider-like light-sensing noisemaker, Tunde and Jaleel from TV On The Radio standing side of stage covered in streamers, Do You Realize??, happiness, crying, hugs.
It was excessive and it was perfect. If I ever grow complacent with a spectacle such as this, please, euthanize me.
LOVED: All the love in the room.
HATED: The futility of trying to recapture the magic through live clips in the week following.
DRANK: Confetti. Lots of it.
