Flaming Lips/Austin City Limits

If we're in for four years of political hell, I get some small consolation from the hope that repressive times make for good rebel art. The Flaming Lips have been making their nutso magic in Oklahoma, about as Red as Red States get, for >20 years now. And though I'm a late convert, watching them dancing around in bunny suits, tossing big balloons into the audience, and hymning Yoshimi who's brave enough to take up the resistance against the Pink Robots was enough to convince me that maybe the hippies had it right after all--we're gonna beat those sad-ass, scared-ass, Old Testament-poisoned losers because they are no fun at all.

But even better, at the halfway point Wayne Coyne brought out the lovely and talented Chan Marshall to sing with them--then called out "War Pigs." You'd think Sabbath would be about as far as far from the psychedelic wonderland the Lips inhabit as those Robots. But then Wayne said, "Wait a minute--if we're doing 'War Pigs,' where's the blood?" and then splashed fake blood all over his forehead. And the band and Ms. Cat Power tore into a version that sounded a galaxy away from Ozzy's wall of doom (which originated, you oldsters may recall, during a time just as despairing as the one we're in now)--if Sab can be gleeful, these guys (and gal) were. Damn, it was exhilarating to hear Chan yowling like Exene in her prime! (The woman may be missing her calling as a rocker, bigtime.) Along with all those guys in animal suits!

And The Shins were just beautiful, too.