Caught Live: The Flaming Lips (Performing The Soft Bulletin) + Dinosaur Jr (Performing Bug) + Deerhoof (Performing Milk Man) @ Alexandra Palace, London

Arriving at Ally Pally for tonight's triple-header of modern classic album performances, credit must go to promoters ATP, who have made every effort to convert one of London’s least accessible and unloveliest ‘prestige’ venues into a reasonable place in which to stage such events. This being said, however, the art displays, listening circles, masseurs and a selection of ceiling-strung bouncing balloons – however well intentioned – can’t quite make up for a hall that generally offers poor sightlines, erratic sound and a seemingly inbuilt cold atmosphere.

Deerhoof do their best to jerk and freak their way above the deadened vibe with a brazen run-through of their 2004 Milk Man LP. It’s abrasive, sometimes alienating stuff; no question, but the smallish crowd who’ve managed to get here for the band's terribly early 7pm start get a kick out of seeing these ultra-underground heroes hammer through (a term particularly applicable to whirlwind drummer Greg Saunier) their seminal concept work. Quieter moments like ‘Desapareceré’ may get a little lost in the mix, but the Californians provide an interesting and volatile antidote to the dullness of the room.

Dinosaur Jr are here to blast through their not-so-modern classic third album, Bug, which originally closed the first chapter in the band's career by precipitating Lou Barlow's late-eighties departure. So there's a certain degree of irony in seeing the original lineup restored and kicking off a set with ‘Freak Scene’ before thundering all the way to a close with ‘Don’t’. Alt. rock anti-hero J Mascis still cuts as iconic a figure as ever: a mane of long, grey hair in his face; foot permanently resting on one distortion pedal or another; pained, strained vocals barely escaping his lips – all of which contrasts brilliantly with the furious, dynamic bass ‘playing’ of the mighty Barlow. The odd couple's respective strangeness of approach is beautifully reigned in by watertight drumming from Murph, and these vintage songs – while certainly not sounding ‘as fresh as the day they were recorded’ (as it’s de rigeur to remark in reviews of this sort of thing) – really do retain a cacophonous power that’s undeniable. A good set, then, from a (still) great band.

The hall has finally filled to near-capacity by the time The Flaming Lips take the stage. If anyone can overcome the staid setting and a London crowd traditionally predisposed to cynicism, it’s the Oklahoma oddballs, continuing their everlasting quest to bring joy and a little bit of third-eye squeegeeing to every corner of the known musical world.

In keeping with this reputation, tonight’s set is an enormous party right from the get-go. Streamers are fired, confetti is cannoned into the audience, and psych-guru Wayne Coyne emerges in his hamster ball and goes rolling through the crowd. Arguably the most impressive aspect of this most impressive of live shows is how the band manage to maintain the rush of gladness and positivity throughout. While a complex light show, brain-frying video imagery and Wizard of Oz-themed dancers might easily descend into the realm of naff gimmickry in lesser hands, The Lips manage to make each one of these elements a part of the music, a part of what the band is all about – the perfect visual embodiment of the kind of positive, semi-spiritual message they are constantly trying to convey.

Sure, Coyne’s regular and lengthy sermons – during which, among other things, he talks about his own insecurities as a singer, how madness shared isn’t really madness at all and how an experience like tonight's gig can and should be a hugely important part of the life and growth of all involved – may drag for some. This evening, however, it's safe to say these people are in both the minority and the wrong. The singer's quasi-cult leader's approach to live performance speaks to the true, pure love of music all fans have inside them; it’s an approach that breaks down barriers of politeness and reserve, and goes straight for the soul.

While there will be some pedantic nitpicking over whether their game-changing The Soft Bulletin LP really is played in its entirety this evening (some debate exists over differing versions of the album's running order), it pays to look beyond such trivialities and embrace the whole. By the time Coyne and co. return for their one-song encore of ‘Do You Realize??’, the thronged masses are in a state of borderline hysteria – there are people crying, screaming and stood in jaw-agape stunned silence everywhere.

It’s amazing that a band can continue to inspire responses like this in a musical climate where genuine emotions are snarkily scoffed at and talk of love, life and hope is all too quickly dismissed as trad and outdated. That The Flaming Lips are the best live act in recent memory is not in dispute. On tonight's evidence, they just may also be the most inspiring, vitally important band you’ll ever see.

Photo courtesy of Anni Timms. Go here to view a full gallery of her shots from the gig.