Autopsy of the devil's brain
The Flaming Lips originally formed in 1975 after ten-year old Wayne Coyne, his eyes burning from what he thought was an enourmous billowing fog of marijuana smoke (actually, it was a windy day and the neighbors were burning some trash), watched his brothers (the Frying Psychics) perform a cover of "20th Century Schizoid Man" in the basement of the family home (a converted mortuary). Having saved nearly $150 from his earnings peddling Grit ('America's hometown newspaper'), Wayne (not his real name) coerced his brother Maurice into purchasing a small handgun at a pawn shop. Equipped with this tiny but persuasive accessory, Wayne soon secured his first guitar, a '62 Fender Jaguar with all the frets ripped out, amps, a drum kit, and a miniscule p.a. system (liberated from a local Jehovah's Witness hall) soon followed.
Rounding up his brothers Mark, Robin, Barry and Maurice (their real names), Wayne dubbed the band the Flaming Lips. Interviewed in the Death issue of The Process magazine, Wayned reminisced: "I had this massive dream - I was making out with Mary Magdalene in the back of this old car. We were naked, and when I kissed her, her mouth was like a flamethrower, or molten lava or somethin'...and my lips caught on fire..."
Despite these auspicious beginnings, eight years would pass before the band would actually begin performing in public. All the brothers wanted to be the singer until Mark beat up the others with a car jack. Maurice, Robin and Barry quit the band and subsequently moved to Australia, changing their last name and severing ties with the family. This left Wayne holding an empty bag; wheras the departed brothers had been in dozens of crummy, undistinguished garage bands, the only song Wayne had managed to figure out was "Smoke on the Water" - and then only if someone else tuned the guitar.
In lieu of having a functional band, Wayne nonetheless managed to spark a word-of-mouth buzz in the OKC underground community with a series of pot luck dinners, neighborhood boxing matches, and puppet shows, all under the Flaming Lips aegis. As their cult of appeal slowly swelled like a dead body in a lake, other people not already related to Wayne were drawn in by the allure and mystique surrounding these events. Gradually (around 1980), the Flaming Lips were comprised of thirteen members; some did the cooking and sewing, some studied the Enochian Keys with fanatical zeal, and some were even musically inclined. Seizing the moment, Wayne organized weekly band rehearsals. These practice sessions often lasted two or three days - the protracted results of Wayne's stockpile of Sixties-vintage Testor's Glue. However, (as you might have guessed) things progressed excruciatingly slowly; while Wayne simply wanted to churn up some loud rock noise, the others were often too dissipated to muster up anything more than plodding country-rock poo. Wayne had yet to find the omega to his alpha, the ferfect foil for the guitar-driven spewage swirling in his head.
In 1982, he finally found it. Michael Ivins (real name: Ivan Michaels), a thin, ascetic Kabbalist and part-time fry cook, responded to a notice: (We'll cut your grass for real cheap") tacked up in a laundromat. After mowing the yard, Wayne took up Michael's offer of a glass of sun tea; while chewing the fat, they discovered they had similar musical tastes, and Wayne invited him to join the practice sessions. Michael initially occupied the much-vied-for singer/tambourinist position, rapidly moving on through lead guitar, rhythm guitar, drums, dancer, piano, and panpipes, until finding his niche on the electric bass.
Sensing that it was now or never, Wayne decided to abandon the superfluous aspects of the Flaming Lips organization - the day care center, the meat-packing operation, the funeral service - to devote full attention to the band, resulting in a major schism in the clan. Some of the others objected to the fierce punk-rock blare Wayne and Michael were gestating; these losers were driven out to the river and whacked. This effectively pared the Lips down to Wayne and Michael. They recruited a misguided legal aide as the drummer and coerced Marck back into the fold with promises of free beer. After three months of practice, the Flaming Lips finally tottered out into the lurid world aboveground.
Their first public bloading was at a seamy nightclub frequented by bikers and transvestites. The lukewarm response from the attendant throng (if six people constitute a throng) encouraged them to set their sights a little higher. A series of unconventional gigs followed, culminating in the controversial show at Bell Isle (an abandoned electric plant on the outskirts of Oklahoma City) where six teens died under bizarre circumstances.
Withdrawing from public scrutiny, the Lips commenced with recording their first record. Wayne connived the studio owner into swapping recording time for a couple of ratty old couches the band had salvaged from the city dump. The resutant eponymously-titled EP squeezed forth on the bands's own Lovely Sorts of Death label, immeadiately becoming a totem of twisted hipster obsession.
The band then commenced on the obligatory routined for the next few years: repeatedly touring the U.S. and Europe, releasing four albums and a few singles and EP's on the usual indi-type labels, etc., etc. [NOTE TO MEDIA FOLKS: PLEASE INSERT ANECDOTES, DETAILED FACTUAL DATA, AND SO FORTH FROM ANYBODY ELSE'S PRESS KIT HERE - Y'KNOW, "PAYING THEIR DUES," "BREAKING THROUGH TO THE BIG LEAGUES," BLAH BLAH...JUST MAKE IT UP FROM HERE ON OUT...]
(from Warner Bros. press kit circa 1992)