The Flaming Lips, Kristi’s Love, and My Fight to Stay Alive

For as long as I can remember, The Flaming Lips have been the pulse underneath my life. Their music is strange, fearless, and full of heart, the kind that reminds you that being human means embracing both beauty and chaos at the same time. Their songs have been my soundtrack through every chapter, creative highs, heartbreaks, long drives, and quiet mornings that needed a little bit of color.

I own everything I can find of theirs on vinyl. There is something about hearing those songs spin that makes them feel alive in a way digital never could. The needle drops and suddenly the room breathes. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots fills the air and it feels like sunlight through a kaleidoscope. Every pop and crackle is part of the ritual. Sometimes I sit with the lights low, record sleeve in hand, and think about how few bands have managed to stay this weird, this honest, and this full of love for so long.

My grandkids love them too, which makes me smile every time. Their favorite song is I Can Be a Frog, and they ask for it constantly. They jump around the living room pretending to be animals while Wayne Coyne sings, and for a moment, I see a little of myself in them, born weird, raised weird, and now proudly certified weird.

The Show

The night finally came. November ninth, twenty twenty-three. Music Hall at Fair Park was already alive before the doors even opened. The air buzzed with that electric pre-show tension only true fans know. People were dressed in bright clothes and glitter, laughing, trading stories, and posing for photos in the lobby like it was a family reunion for the weird and wonderful.

I got there early, too restless to wait at home. The first thing I did was hit the merch table. Shirts, posters, vinyl, everything with that unmistakable Flaming Lips color and chaos. I bought more than I should have and in all the excitement, left half of it behind at my seat later that night.

When I finally walked into the theater, my heart skipped. Front row. Center. The best seat in the house. I was close enough to see the set list taped to the stage floor and the glow of the instruments before the lights dropped. The moment the first sound hit, the crowd erupted. Balloons shot into the air, confetti poured from the ceiling, and Wayne Coyne stepped into the glow like a cosmic preacher. I was so close he reached down and gave me a fist bump. The lights were unreal, the energy explosive, and when the show started, the crowd lost its collective mind.

The Soundtrack of a Soul Awakening

They played Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots from start to finish, and it was nothing short of magic. Every note hit like a pulse through the floor. Fight Test roared to life with Wayne Coyne’s voice soaring over layers of color and sound. One More Robot melted into Yoshimi, and the whole room swayed together, caught in that dreamlike rhythm that only The Flaming Lips can create.

The energy never dipped for a second. The crowd didn’t just listen, they lived it. The lights strobed in time with every beat, pink and gold waves spilling across the ceiling. It was surreal, like the music was wrapping around us instead of coming from the stage.

When they finished the full album, they didn’t slow down. They launched straight into a second set of fan favorites and the place exploded. She Don’t Use Jelly, The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song, and Race for the Prize turned the entire theater into a single joyful organism. Not one person sat down. Everyone stood, danced, sang, and smiled like they had known each other forever. It felt like being surrounded by thousands of your best friends, every one of us united in love, sound, and pure, unfiltered joy.

The Ache Beneath the Applause

That morning I felt terrible. My stomach was unsettled, my head light, and my energy almost nonexistent. I told myself it was nothing serious, just fatigue or maybe something I ate. A small voice in my head said I should stay home, rest, and play a record instead. But another voice, louder and more stubborn, said no. I had waited too long for this night. I was going.

By the middle of the show, I knew something was wrong. A deep pain sat in my abdomen and started to spread. My skin turned cold and I felt the kind of dizziness that makes the world tilt slightly out of place. I could feel myself slipping. My hands were clammy, my clothes damp. I had to sit down for a moment just to catch my breath.

Part of me knew I should leave, maybe even ask someone for help. But I couldn’t. The lights, the love, and the energy from that crowd were stronger than the pain. Every smile from a stranger reminded me that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I kept telling myself, just one more song. I clung to the music like a lifeline, and somehow, the excitement, the sound, and the shared joy carried me through to the end of the night.

Cold Rain and The Long Walk

When the lights finally came up, the crowd roared in celebration. I tried to smile, to clap, to join in, but my body had other plans. My legs felt unsteady, my chest heavy. Standing took effort. I usually walk slowly after concerts anyway, letting the noise fade while I hold onto the feeling of the night, but this was different. Each step felt like wading through deep water. My heart raced. My breath came short.

Outside, the air hit me like ice. The smell of rain mixed with the smoke and sweat of a thousand happy fans spilling into the streets. My clothes clung to me, damp from the mist. The streetlights blurred and shimmered. I moved carefully, one foot in front of the other, telling myself I just needed to reach the car.

I figured I was just tired. I hadn’t eaten much all day. Between the adrenaline, the jumping, and the shouting, it made sense to feel spent. My throat was raw from singing. My muscles ached. It felt like the kind of exhaustion you earn.

But something was off. This wasn’t the normal post-show crash. My pulse was too fast, my body too cold, my vision dim around the edges. I brushed it off, clinging to the thought that a good night’s sleep would fix everything. I had no idea what was really happening inside me.

When the Music Stopped

The next morning, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t the usual kind of tired or sore that comes after a show. My chest was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. My vision faded in and out and every breath felt shallow. I tried to sit up but the room tilted and my body refused to cooperate.

I told Kristi we had to go to the hospital. Two months earlier, I had spent a week there for something similar and we thought we were past it. I remember thinking, not again. But this was worse. Much worse. I couldn’t focus. My body was drenched in sweat, my skin clammy and pale. It felt like someone had flipped a switch inside me and everything was shutting down.

When we arrived at the local ER, everything moved fast. They rushed me straight to the back, hooked up wires and monitors, and restarted my heart. The sound of machines and voices blurred together. I remember the sting of IVs and cold air against my face as fluids began to flow.

Before long, I was transferred to the main hospital and admitted. The next morning, I woke to Kristi beside me, tears streaming down her face, surrounded by a crowd of cardiology nurses and doctors. Pads on my chest, monitors everywhere, I drifted in and out of consciousness, unsure if I would ever wake up again.

Kristi’s Eyes and the Edge of Forever

Even in the haze of monitors, voices, and flickering lights, I remember her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. They were the first thing I saw when I slipped in and out of consciousness. Her hand held mine like she was physically keeping me anchored to this world. I could feel the tremor in her fingers. I could see the terror behind her tears.

She thought she was watching me leave. I could tell by the way she looked at me, her lips moving but her voice too far away to understand. The fear in her eyes was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was love and panic and heartbreak all wrapped into one unbearable expression. Even when I could barely form a thought, I understood what that look meant. She wasn’t ready to lose me and I wasn’t ready to let go.

Later, when I became lucid again, the doctors told me that my heart had raced to a critical rate. They had to stop it and restart it. I remember looking over at Kristi and seeing the relief flood her face. Her shoulders dropped, her eyes softened, and she exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for hours. In that moment, I realized what a fragile gift another day together really is.

All We Have Is Now Becomes a Mantra

Lying in that hospital bed, I couldn’t stop replaying Wayne Coyne’s voice in my head. Before Do You Realize?? he told the crowd that all we have is now. At the show, it felt like philosophy wrapped in melody, a poetic reminder to appreciate the moment. The whole room cheered and swayed and I remember thinking how true it sounded. But in that hospital bed, surrounded by machines and hushed voices, those same words hit differently. They weren’t lyrics anymore. They were truth.

I realized I was not indestructible. I had treated my body like a tool that could just keep going no matter the wear. But now it was clear that I had pushed too far for too long. I thought about Kristi sitting beside me, holding my hand, her eyes red from crying. I knew she loved me, but I also knew she needed more than love. She needed me present, healthy, alive, and able to give her the best version of myself.

Wayne’s words echoed again and again. All we have is now. At the concert, it felt like connection. In that moment, it felt like purpose. I promised myself I wouldn’t waste the time I was given. I would get better, live better, and make every now count for her and for us.

Choosing Life for Love

I spent a week in the hospital, surrounded by the constant rhythm of machines and the soft voices of nurses checking vitals through the night. When I was finally released, I walked out of those doors knowing I had been given a second chance. My body was weak, my mind scattered, but somewhere inside, a quiet determination had taken hold. I knew this wasn’t just about surviving. It was about rebuilding.

It took time to get my body right again and even longer to get my mind right. I changed the way I ate, trading comfort for nourishment. I lost weight, but what mattered more was what I gained. I began to feel healthy again, awake in a way I hadn’t in years. I started spending more time creating, writing, thinking, dreaming, and less time wasting time on things that didn’t matter.

But this wasn’t just about self-improvement. It was about love. I wanted Kristi to see me alive, not just breathing but present. I never wanted her to feel that terror again. Love gave me the reason to fight and purpose gave me the strength to follow through. Every meal, every mindful moment, every hour spent creating instead of drifting felt like a promise, to her, to myself, and to the life we still get to live together.

Grateful for the Show and Wise Words

Nearly two years later, I still start most mornings with The Flaming Lips playing somewhere in the house. Their music has become the sound of gratitude for me. Race for the Prize fills the room as I make a healthy breakfast, the sunlight spilling through the window, and I think about how different life feels now. The prize, I’ve learned, isn’t success, recognition, or control. The prize is this, being alive, being loved, and being fully present in the moment I am given.

That night in Dallas changed me in ways I’m still discovering. The music and the moment nearly broke me, but they also built me back stronger, wiser, and more aware. I no longer pretend to be invincible. I’ve accepted that life is fragile and that every heartbeat is borrowed time.

My habits have changed too. I eat better, rest more, and treat my body with respect instead of assumption. I make time for creativity, for laughter, for connection. And every day, I find myself thinking about Wayne Coyne’s words more than ever. All we have is now. Those five words have become a quiet compass in my life, guiding me toward what really matters. I live differently now, grateful for the show, the lessons, and the love that brought me back.

The Flaming Lips, Dallas TX, November 9, 2023

Venue: Music Hall at Fair ParkTour: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots 20th Anniversary TourDate and Time: Thursday, November 9, 2023, 8:00 PM

The Dallas show was one of the most powerful and emotional stops of the Yoshimi anniversary tour. Fans filled every seat inside Music Hall at Fair Park, waiting to see the full album performed live for the first time in years. From the first moment, the crowd stood, sang, and never sat again.

Reviews from across the region captured what it felt like to be there. The Dallas Observer called the show “a technicolor dream of sound and light that made grown adults feel like kids again.” Public radio station KXT described it as “a spiritual experience disguised as a rock concert.” ArtsFuse praised the performance for its emotional range, saying it “moved from gentle reflection to explosive joy without losing its humanity.” The Cosmic Clash wrote that “Wayne Coyne turned nostalgia into communion, and Yoshimi into something timeless.” Even Music Madness Magazine declared the tour “everything a live show should be, wild, sincere, and unforgettable.”

When the final notes of Do You Realize?? filled the room, people held one another and sang through tears. Wayne Coyne reminded the crowd that all we have is now, and for a moment, everyone believed it.

Setlist

Okie From Muskogee (Merle Haggard Cover)

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Set

1. Fight Test
2. One More Robot/Sympathy 3000-21
3. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 1
4. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 2
5. In the Morning of the Magicians
6. Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell
7. Are You a Hypnotist??
8. It's Summertime
9. Do You Realize??
10. All We Have Is Now
11. Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon (Utopia Planitia)

Second Set

12. Chug-A-Lug (Roger Miller Cover)
13. She Don't Use Jelly
14. The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song (With All Your Power)
15. How??
16. Waitin' for a Superman
17. Always There, In Our Hearts
18. Flowers of Neptune 6
19. What Is the Light?
20. The Observer
21. Borderline (Madonna cover)
22. Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung

Encore

23. My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion
24. A Spoonful Weighs a Ton
25. Race for the Prize

The Band That Changed Everything

The Flaming Lips are more than a band. They are an experience that cannot be defined by a single sound or style. Formed in Oklahoma City in nineteen eighty-three by Wayne Coyne and Michael Ivins, they created a sound that blends psychedelic rock, orchestral pop, and emotional experimentation. Over the years, their lineup evolved, but Wayne and multi-instrumentalist Steven Drozd became the heart of the group. Together they turned strangeness into beauty and made sincerity something to celebrate.

Their influence stretches far beyond their own albums. Artists like Tame Impala, MGMT, and The Polyphonic Spree have credited The Flaming Lips for showing that vulnerability and creativity can coexist. The band has collaborated with artists as different as Miley Cyrus, Kesha, Bon Iver, and Yoko Ono, proving that the only rule is to make something true.

Their live shows have become legendary. Imagine confetti storms, giant balloons, lasers, bubbles, and Wayne Coyne walking across the audience in a clear orb. Every show feels like a dream, filled with joy, chaos, and the pure love of music.

If you have never seen them live, you owe yourself that gift. Buy a ticket. Step into the light. Or better yet, listen on vinyl. Their music was made for that warm analog sound. Every pop and crackle feels alive, like the heartbeat of the universe itself.

#TheFlamingLips