I’ve been anticipating the debut of the new Ken Burn’s documentary “The War” for quite some time. After watching the second chapter of the 17 hour film tonight, my feelings are those of despair, hope, and awe. The storytelling is top notch, the people involved take great pride in their history, the narrator could very well be your favorite teacher you never had in high school, and the photography will and should move you to action. Whatever that action may be is your call, nonetheless this film is very very important.

www.pbs.com

I spent last Friday surrounded by aliens, coated in confetti, and with about 2,000 laser pointers, give or take a few. The Flaming Lips brought their explosive freak show to Chicago last Friday, and I decided to fully experience the concert and camp out all day for the sold out show. The following is a log of my day.

9:30 AM-Heading down on the red line to The Aragon to meet my concert buddy Amy. Man, it sure is early.

10:40 AM- Our stomachs get the best of us. Amy and I are sitting in the most amazing trashy diner. The booths are red glitter vinyl, and Amy was just served a hot beef sandwich. Life is pretty grand.

Noon- Bored. Amy decides she wants a new tattoo. We head to a shop down the street. She is one brazen and slightly crazy girl, and decides to get the robot off the cover of a Flaming Lips album. She tells me she wants to always remember the amazing night she will surely have.

1:15pm-In line. Karl (with a K), the head of security, is rocking a sweet mullet and mustache combination. He’s everything you would expect in a roadie type, covered in tattoos, drops the f-bomb a lot, and smells like booze and cigarettes. He’s a pretty nice guy though, and promises us that we will be the first people in the venue since our “crazy ass decided to get here so damn early.”

3:15 pm- Ed, our neighbor in line buddy, offers us nametags. Amy and I are now accepted into the concert line of friendship. Score.

3:45 pm- Ed and our other neighbors are all fans from The Flaming Lips message board. Some drove all the way from LA and San Francisco and are following the Lips on tour around the country. One couple is decked out in their own alien outfit and Santa suit. The girl in the alien outfit hands me a noisemaker and throws confetti on me. All is well in our little alley commune.

4:30 pm-The rain comes. It looks like a hobo camp, with fans crouched under garbage bags and four or five people huddled under umbrellas. I have two students from Kent State under my umbrella with me. They want to dance onstage tonight more than anything.

6:50 pm- Fans are cheering, confetti and balloons are being thrown around, and security is looking at us like we’ve lost our minds. Our line buddies from Kent State find the animal wrangler (the person that picks who dances onstage) and get a spot. We give our line buddies thumbs up on a job well done. A camera crew is interviewing the biggest Flaming Lips fans, and they pull Amy from the crowd to interview. Laser pointers are being handed out. Security guy Karl passes by and gives me a smile and pats me on the head, giving me the reassuring look of “I told you I’d get you in here first.” Thanks Karl. A spaceship descends, Wayne appears in a giant plastic bubble, confetti is launched, and green balloons float high above the audience. I don’t see one person around me that isn’t grinning from ear to ear. As The Lips launch into Race For The Prize, it’s clear why so many fans are devoted to this band. Their show is a true spectacle, a rock circus with streamers and lasers and giant spaceships. They give their fans just what they want, a few hours of pure joy and a vehicle to escape from the real world. The Flaming Lips remind me that this is what music is about. A lot of love, a lot of devotion, a lot of insanity, and a few thousand lasers.

I spent a good amount of time in Nashville for the very first time this past weekend.

I think my mind is a bit blown.

I hope to talk about it in depth a bit more, but I had a constant debate going on in my head as I walked the streets and talked to people - is this place better or worse for musicians?

Perhaps it is better for labels, venues, promoters…because it is a mecca for artists. But does that make it less likely for those artists to succeed?

This is the point where I wish that I had credentials as a statistician. To juggle the numbers when it comes to artists who enter and leave the biz after a stop in Nashville could be a lifelong project.

Maybe somebody at Vanderbilt is on it already. I’ll look into it.

Your thoughts, readers?