The documentary “The Fearless Freaks” nicely summarizes why I’ve followed this group throughout the years. Leader Wayne Coyne is not the most proficient musician in rock, but he may possess one of the most creative minds in it. Coyne finds ways to execute this creativity despite his musical limitations: initially it was through sheer volume and Spencer Gifts gimmickry. When he got too old for Spencer’ s, he enlisted actual talent, most notably in the form of multi-instrumentalist Steven Drozd. Through it all, bassist Michael Ivins stayed with him, but the warped journey took its toll on his hairline.
“The Fearless Freaks” manages to touch on each phase of their career as well as the three primary Lips’ personal background, which would have turned mortal men into felons. While learning about the drug use, criminal background, and mental difficulties of the band’s family members could have easily turned the film into an episode of “Behind The Music.” Instead, the filmmaker manages to capture so much heartfelt emotion that you get the impression there’s no one as amazed about the Lips’ success as the band themselves.
The Flaming Lips started like so many other bands directly influenced by the D.I.Y. ethos of punk: a couple of brothers and their mutual friends joined up to make a racket after seeing a few nationally known punk bands make a racket in the local club. Being in Oklahoma can be a disadvantage, namely, the musical soundtrack to any bumfuck upbringing can turn you into an A.O.R. loving complacent music “fan.” What they were able to do is to take this upbringing, combine it (unknowingly breaking a fundamental punk “rule”) with punk elements and make a bastardized version of the very thing that makes rock & roll so vital.
To support it, the original trio was on the road all the fucking time. My first exposure to The Flaming Lips came in the form of a Nuggets mix tape a guitarist from a local band made for me in the mid-80’s. He named the compilation “Sonic Cavestomp,” and at the end of all the legitimate 60’s garage tunes he through in the Lips’ “Scratching The Door” from their first e.p. Having no prior exposure of the band or their music, I logically assumed The Flaming Lips were a 60’s band. After all, their name fit nicely next to The Chocolate Watchband.
A few months later, a friend declared “Oh My Gawd!!!...The Flaming Lips” a masterpiece and made me a cassette copy of it. The album was too long to fit on one side of the C-90 format, so the album closer “Love Yer Brain” started side two and he filled the rest of the side with selections from their debut “Here It Is.” That cassette played continually and with “Love Yer Brain” starting the second side, it forced me to listen to it all the way until the end when the band completely demolished a piano in the studio. A masterpiece it was and I will continue to defend it as such despite all the progress the guys continue to make.
The band regularly performed in Iowa, which was a van ride away from Oklahoma, and I made it a point to see them during their endless tour of “Oh My Gawd.” The performance was life changing: the club was filled with fog, the fog was penetrated by a cheap laser light show, and the music was a sludgehammer of fuzz over (then) drummer Richard English’s no-tom-left-untouched skinwork. Sure I was under the influence and of course it made a difference, but I was clear minded enough to understand that I had witnessed something special.
A year or so later, I was talking with the owner of my favorite collegiate hangout and he was noticeably excited. At least fifteen years my senior, the guy was animated beyond his normal stoner exterior. He explained that The Flaming Lips would be (hopefully) playing there soon. I immediately got on the phone with the provider of aforementioned C-90 and urged him to make the drive from Minneapolis to see The Flaming Lips in such an intimate setting. The club was very small and it typically didn’t have the funding to secure up-and-coming national acts. To make things a little interesting, the club owner later explained to me that he was unsure if he could secure a deal with the Lips, as their rider called for a lot of off the wall goodies that certainly belied the clean and sober statements that Wayne Coyne now likes to project. I believe him now, but back then it would be hard to convince me that Coyne and company didn’t partake in a lot of illegal substances. If you ever saw them live during this phase, you’d surely agree with me.
The deal was worked out and overnight plans were secured for the out of towners to attend.
A very poor local band was tapped to be the openers and, unfortunately for us, we were obligated to attend their performance out of respect and because one of the members in our party used to be in a band with the singer/guitarist. Thankfully, we had a number of different drugs between us all to tolerate their performance and to get ready for the headliners. It became known as a five finger drug night: for every finger on our hand, we complimented with a different drug. Needless to say, we were all pretty tore up before the opening band even ended. Fueling the paranoia was the fact that we hadn’t seen heads or tails of the Lips at all. Eyeballing the club owner, I could determine that he was more than a bit concerned as they had even failed to show up for the early evening soundcheck and faced the real possibility that he was about to be stuck up. The opening act tried to placate the audience and unfortunately co-opted to extend their set a while longer.
Suddenly, the back door to the club opened up and the members in my group let out a collected cheer. The Flaming Lips had arrived. With a brief soundcheck, the band took the tiny stage and immediately filled the club with smoke, lasers, and strobe lights. The band played a total of six songs, but interspersed in them was another two or three. For example, the band would start into “Can’t Stop The Spring” and then would segue into Zeppelin’s “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” and then into a Doors song and, finally, back into “Spring.” We seldom could see the band at all thanks to the enormous fog, but thanks to the strobe, you could vaguely make out a dancing body directly in front of you. It was the equivalent of seeing the band in your own living room with the security of knowing that the neighbors wouldn’t be called because of the noise. For the second time, The Flaming Lips blew my mind live. To thank them, we gave bassist Mike Ivins a few joints for the road.
“Telepathic Surgery” was their third album, and life on the road sounded like it was taking its toll on the band’s creative juices. By this time, I was swooned by The Stone Roses and had essentially written the band off as finished. Their next album, “In A Priest Driven Ambulance” proved me wrong.
In fact, with every subsequent album thereafter The Flaming Lips proved me wrong; despite personnel changes and a jump to the majors, the band never ceased to amaze. It wasn’t until their support tour of “The Soft Bulletin” that I had a chance to see them live again, but their recorded output became fixtures on the play deck with each new release. It was a hoot to see them on “90210,” it was nice to hear the band on top 40 radio with “She Don’t Use Jelly” and it was even better to see them get the critical success that I knew they deserved no matter how many drugs were used to alter my perception.
“The Fearless Freaks” tracks this rise and provides fans and novices with an even better appreciation of how much they had to go through to get there. I never knew the impact of Ronald Jones’ departure, I’ve spent some time contemplating why Jonathan Donahue left, and I wondered how the fuck they got Warner Brothers to release “Zaireeka.’ These and other trivial items are answered in the film and it includes a ton of home movies, personal videos, and live performances including a few that I was actually in attendance.
What isn’t answered is why original drummer Richard English left the band. There were stories floating around the time he left that I would like clarified and, even though Drozd is a better drummer, English’s work definitely added to the soundscape of the band’s earlier work. His whereabouts now are never identified and the reason why he left remains unanswered.
Another item left unaddressed is their tour with Beck a few years ago. Having attended this tour as well, I was convinced that the combination was of historical significance. Coyne later revealed the difficulties in working with Beck and it would have been nice to have this brief liaison mentioned.
These minor details don’t take away anything from the documentary. Indeed, the inclusion of things like Steven Drozd shooting heroin and acknowledging the drug’s destructiveness as he fastidiously prepares his works. If you know anything about Drozd’s enormous talent, you understand how heart wrenching this scene is to watch.
I must confess that, as of late, I’m growing tired of the lack of spontaneity that comprises the Lips’ current live situations. The mixture of audio and video means that many nights are an exact replica of the night before. And even with months in between shows, I’ve noticed how similar performances are, and I felt cynical about it. I guess what I was looking for was at least a few examples of going beyond the setlist. I would have given anything for an impromptu version of “Love Yer Brain” or even a brief sidetracked cover version like the ones you hear in so many of their e.p.’s. What I failed to consider in this is that there are probably more individuals seeing the Lips live than I imagined. I need to be reminded of this and I need to recall how utterly blown away I was the first time I saw them. That feeling was also present the first time I saw the “Soft Bulletin” tour, because the performance combined with the overall message of the songs from that album made yet another impact on my musical memories. The best thing I can do is to encourage everyone to see one of their shows and witness the reason why they remain one of my favorite bands of all time.
I can’t tell you how many times I smiled after discovering yet another batch of confetti remnants from a show long since past. Others need to experience this too. A band that is able to incite these types of feelings are few and far between and, I believe, are getting scarcer. “The Fearless Freaks” is an excellent intimate look at a band that has been able to give its fans such intimate feelings for so long. The best thing the movie does, is provide a feeling that they’re not done trying to make an even longer lasting connection with us all.
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