Flaming heck (& gig euphoria)

Some (late) reflections after the Flaming Lips' gig on Wednesday night. Firstly, the venue: the Troxy is in a cruddy part of East London, has a stupid name and is basically a bloody bingo hall - complete with dodgy carpet and weird side-on tables on the upper level. There was no bitter on sale, the wine was awful and the over-zealous security bods operate a one-in-one-out policy at the very front, which isn't ideal if you need to go for a piss or to the bar and get back to your mates in a hurry.

And the Lips themselves? Well, this gig showed them to be a solid band overly fond of formless jams, capable of crafting the odd great tune when the mood takes them and canny enough to furnish their shows with enough gimmickry (dancers in animal suits, balloons, rolling around in a huge hamster ball, etc) to compensate for their musical eccentricities. Wayne Coyne is a wonderful showman, although it has been noted elsewhere that some of his onstage pronouncements ("aw shucks, you guys in [insert name of city] have always supported us when nobody else did, you really are the best", etc) are becoming worryingly Bono-esque. Plus, Fight Test is a shameless rip-off of Cat Stevens's Father and Son.

What this gig did provide was two fleeting moments of genuine euphoria. During the opening Race for the Prize and closing Do You Realize?, by far their best and most uplifting songs, balloons and confetti cascaded over the beaming, enraptured crowd, and at those precise moments I couldn't imagine anywhere else I'd have rather been. This is the sort of joy that only live music can bring, but of course it doesn't last for long - usually a song or two at most, or possibly for the duration of a set if you're really lucky.

Actually, I can't think of a gig which has genuinely mesmerised me the whole way through. Even the best ones have peaks and troughs, however minor they may be. Bruce Springsteen at Glastonbury, for example, lingers powerfully in my memory, but if I'm honest I only began to reach that euphoric state when he did Because the Night, which was close to an hour in. And the Manics were also terrific when they ran through all the hits in the second half of their Roundhouse show this year, but those hits did include stuff like Australia and You Stole the Sun..., songs which I couldn't give two shits about.

Of course, by its very nature euphoria has to be fleeting. If you were to suddenly attain a state of permanent bliss then that would become the norm and you would end up striving for something more. Look at Manchester United fans - last season they win the league AGAIN and are still devastated when they fail to retain the Champions League trophy. My heart bleeds, guys, it really does. I go to every gig (or football match, film, play, whatever) in search of that blissful moment - when it passes I can relive it in my head, but it's a diluted sort of pleasure, and so I search for a new one.

Most importantly though, as I get older I find myself appreciating these moments far more. They're a reminder of what joys life can bring, and how lucky I am to live in a place where I have the freedom to experience them, despite certain sections of the media and Westminster trying to tell me otherwise. Perhaps I am - gasp! - starting to develop a positive outlook on life. Watch this space.