The last time I saw the Flaming Lips in concert was 1994 at the State Theatre in Portland, Maine. They were opening for Candlebox, a band that had much bigger egos than was warranted by their talent. Between songs, Candlebox’s lead singer told the crowd that if they didn’t stop moshing, “We’re never f’ing coming back!” as if being blacklisted by Candlebox would cause everyone in Portland to go home and commit sepuku while tearfully listening to “Far Behind.”
    Well, Candlebox has gone the way of Vanilla Ice, but the Flaming Lips are still around and now open for Beck. But I haven’t kept up with the Lips in the years since I last saw them, so when my friend Millman asked if I wanted to dance around on stage with them at the Orpheum while wearing a penguin costume, I said, “Sure! What?”
    In addition to throwing confetti and making liberal use of an electronic bullhorn in their performances, the Flaming Lips also have a cast of people who don furry animal costumes and dance around on stage, waving spotlights at the crowd. How did I get in on this? Let’s just say that Millman knows people who know people who know furry animals.

 
    I was supposed to be the penguin, but almost all the costumes were spoken for by the time I showed up, so I got the last one: a rabbit. At least, it was a rabbit body. A giraffe was already wearing my head and I thought it best not to bother him about it. So I pulled on what looked to be a pig head, grabbed two spotlights and got in line to hit the stage.
    I was a little bit apprehensive about this, for several reasons. I had time for only two drinks before the show, and two drinks falls far short of the chemical assistance necessary to make me feel comfortable with the idea of dancing in a rabbit costume in front of 2,800 people. Also, my mismatched pig head was more like a hat with ears, and my face was exposed. I’d expected to be able to hide behind an enclosed head—such as the one the thieving giraffe was wearing. Plus I smelled as bad as a real rabbit. One gets the feeling that the animal costumes are probably not laundered after every show.
    I didn’t have much time to fret about any of this, as the animals took the stage barely five minutes after I’d pulled on my pelt. Initially I was embarrassed, looking out at all those faces staring at my less-than-dignified ensemble. But I soon decided that I would forever regret it if I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain as a proper dancing rabbit. I started jumping around and waving my spotlights on the crowd. This was a workout, because the spotlights were of the type normally reserved for illicit night hunting and were heavy enough to make my shoulders ache after two songs. Once or twice I got excessively fired up and cracked the bunnyraffe on the back of the head with my spotlights, but he didn’t seem to mind. I suspect he and the sweaty frog next to him had more time than I did to prepare for the show, if you know what I mean.
    As much as I felt like a big freak, I was but a blip on the freakdar compared with the Flaming Lips themselves. At one point during the song “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots,” lead singer Wayne Coyne pulled out a nun hand puppet and put her up to the microphone to sing the chorus. Strangely enough, those occupational personality tests I took in high school never revealed that I was cut out to help open for Beck by dancing around in a bunny suit while a guy with a nun puppet sang “Oh Yoshimi, they don’t believe me, but you won’t let those robots eat me” in a midsize theater venue.
    Not every song demanded energetic flailing, which was beneficial from a not-getting-heatstroke standpoint. As one slow tune began, the tiger next to me said “this is the mellow song.” We animals sat down for the mellow song and just listened, taking in the music and thinking about carrots or wounded gazelles. The tiger smoked a cigarette.
    The finale came shortly thereafter, when the animals left the stage and ran around in the crowd. I experienced universal adoration for about two minutes. Everybody loves the animals. I’m sure this rabbit could’ve met a few bunnies had he not been concentrating on waving his spotlight and keeping up with the elephant ahead. (I’m glad the elephant wasn’t behind me. I know those guys can get a little friendly with their trunks.)
    When it was all over, I was sad to take off my costume and return to the audience. I may not be a rock star, but I think the Flaming Lips and the Orpheum crowd would both agree that I am quite an animal.*