See the slideshows for more photos: N.E.R.D.; The Flaming Lips.
After an exhausting but utterly fulfilling Record Store Day spent shop-hopping and early drinking, we checked in at Vanderbilt to catch the tail end of Saturday night's Rites of Spring happenings. Once we'd determined that the spare press pass we hoped to finagle for our date was indeed confirmed, we crossed campus to catch N.E.R.D. just as they kicked off their set.
Pharrell Williams, clearly heavily adored by the female segment of the audience, made a valiant effort to get folks crowd surfing. It eventually worked, but he seemed particularly interested in getting as many fly honeys dancing onstage as possible, though a few dudes joined the party as well. (We're pretty certain we spotted Pico vs. Island Trees vocalist Bryan Carter cutting a rug onstage at one point.) N.E.R.D. put on a remarkably rambunctious show, and we were pretty stoked at how hard Pharrell advocated responsible partying while simultaneously getting completely "asshole foolly." At least we think that's what he said.
Oklahoma's finest commenced their tremendously involved set-up shortly after 10 p.m., while our vote for Bitchinest Frontman of the New Millennium, Wayne Coyne, kept folks entertained with fistfuls of confetti and grand, foreshadowing gestures. Though a steady drizzle commenced just before the start of their set, it never became torrential, and Coyne ensured us that we'd all take the party elsewhere were technical difficulties to arise. He led off with the now-legendary inflated air globe, a plastic sphere in which he traverses the welcoming heads and hands of eager audience members. With all their equipment in fluorescent orange and yellow, the Lips used confetti cannons, countless balloons, a gong programmed to light up with each strike and an enormous video screen to collectively shatter the minds of their spectators (who, on the whole, weren't too douchey) in a manner that, well, basically only The Flaming Fucking Lips can.
They were joined at one point by Stardeath and White Dwarfs--fronted by Coyne's nephew--for a reprisal of "Borderline," which the junior Coyne and his crew had played earlier in the day; it was as droney and awesome as any Madonna cover could possibly ever be. Steven Drozd was of course a badass on a variety of instruments, though he would only address the crowd in a strange, childlike falsetto, saying things like, "Fuck yes" and "Thanks," while a gaggle of Teletubbies danced at either side of the stage. Adorable side note: One of said Tubbies (clad as Dipsy) was eventually granted access to the mic in order to propose to his girlfriend (Lala, perhaps?). She said yes.
The Lips stuck mostly to later material (some Soft Bulletin, mostly Yoshimi and At War With the Mystics), but they saved the essential "She Don't Use Jelly" for near the end of the set, and Coyne launched into only a small political diatribe before "The W.A.N.D." It was mostly celebratory due to the fact that a "responsible, smart, hardworking mother fucker like Obama" is getting stuff done. The Lips finished just after midnight, and they left us feeling the unavoidable effects of the post-Lips hangover: intoxicated with positivity and light, addled from sensory overload and not exactly certain where we parked. Sweet. No complaints from us.
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The Flaming Lips were incredible, and I'm glad Wayne toned down the political speech for this show. I mean, more or less, we're all there with him so we don't need to hear a 10 minute speech about the war. We get it, man.
More photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/indierocklance/sets/72157617057790468/ (Day 2)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/indierocklance/sets/72157616897092705/ (Day 1)