The mere appearance of a mini-Rank Films gong on the stage of the Glasgow Garage sparked crazed whooping throughout the audience in anticipation of the lo-fi multi-media extravaganza that was to follow. The assembled were distinctly hardcore fans of the Flaming Lips and knew what to expect. Kind of. As they swapped previous Lips' experiences - agreeing that no two gigs were the same - a patchwork of pixels materialised on the giant video screen at the back of the stage. The whooping turned cacophonous and a mourning guitar, which sounded like Air meets the Foo Fighters on a soporific Sunday afternoon, glided in above a filmic string chorus. Naturally, the night didn't remain so sedate.
The Lips' opening proper came with their last single, Race for the Prize, which was fiercely frazzling and jubilant; an odd feeling, especially since nuclear detonations were screening on the video backdrop. Contradicting and enforcing the mood of the songs, the band take pride in their visuals. Like karaoke videos made by Stanley Kubrick, they are both weirdly dissonant and apposite. With a mini camera positioned in front of the band, there was no escaping the Oklahoma City trio's comic, poignant and hallucinogenic bents. Especially when the rubber glove puppets came out. A sperm, a nun and a monkey forced home the absurd genius of the clearly bonkers trio.
Somewhere Over the Rainbow (accompanied by a slack-jawed Judy Garland stuck in a freeze frame), the sunny pathos of Waitin' for a Superman and She Don't Use Jelly gave the crowd every opportunity to holler along with lead singer Wayne Coyne. Never once did they catch up with his playful, undulating tones. As the all-too short set drew to a close, the Lips' trademark surrealism - mixing guitar pop with psychedelic balladry and a hint of 50s lounge music - permeated. What is the Light? was an emotional highpoint and their encore, The Spark that Bled, complete with fake blood, pushed the boundaries of what makes music (and indeed, what makes a concert) with sirens, megaphones and the angst-ridden Coyne's voice petering away to oblivion. Bloody visionary.
• The Flaming Lips play the Royal Festival Hall, London SE1 (020-7960 4242) tonight.
***** Unmissable **** Recommended *** Enjoyable ** Mediocre * Terrible
