After a scorching hot day wandering the streets of London, I make my way to the tube stop nearest the grand and towering venue that is the Alexandra Palace. Arriving at the venue via an unlicensed and definitely illegal taxi, I am just in time to catch the majority of opening band Deerhoof’s set.

Tonight Deerhoof perform their 2004 concept album 'Milk Man', a fine album by all rights. The kitchen sink pop mania displayed here provides the perfect accompaniment to the main event.

After Deerhoof leave the stage, I head out to lobby for a drink. As with all ATP organised events, they always bring a touch of class to the proceedings. Listening posts have been set up for people to enjoy some classic albums in-between sets. Bars are plentiful and queueing is minimal.

Returning to the main hall for Dinosaur Jr. the crowd is noticeably bigger. Many people, I imagine, have just arrived at the venue as it is notoriously awkward to get to via public transport. They tear through arguably their finest LP, ‘Bug’, in the space of just over half an hour. J Mascis never misses a note as the soaring riffs of the genre-defining classic ‘Freak Scene’ flow through the spacious venue. The sound quality far exceeds my expectations. It’s quite a spectacle, and a nodding Wayne Coyne at the side of the stage looks on in approval.

The main event looms. As with all Flaming Lips shows, trippy imagery is projected from the arched video screen as the band set up. Wayne Coyne enters his bubble as he has done for seemingly every show since the Yoshimi era and rolls into the audience. Returning to the stage after being carried back by the crowd, the band leap almost immediately into ‘Race For The Prize’. 12 years later the song still sounds as fresh as ever. Possibly the best album opener ever? No, definitely.

It’s hard to pick a particular highlight as every track played carries its fair share. The crowd’s fist pumping salute during ‘The Spark that Bled’, the slowed-down poignancy of the piano-only rendition of ‘Waitin' for a Superman’ and not forgetting the achingly beautiful and ultimately nihilistic ‘Feeling Yourself Disintegrate’.

It’s interesting to point out that unlike previous ‘Soft Bulletin’ performances overseas they are following the UK track listing rather than the American release. It’s a shame as the US only track ‘The Spiderbite Song’ is a personal favourite but the attention to detail is admirable.

Being a veteran Lips gig goer the showmanship on display is par for the course but Coyne’s banter never ceases to be endearing. Coyne shares anecdotes about the recording process between tracks taking the 45 minute run time of the Soft Bulletin to nearly 2 hours.

The band come back for one last song after the encore break with ‘Do You Realize??’ but it seems like an unnecessary pleasure. The Lips have proven their worth already tonight. it’s hard to think of any other band that could fit so much unbridled joy, confetti and passion into one show. Here’s hoping for a Don’t Look Back ‘Yoshimi’ performance in a few years.

Saturday at Jodrell Bank Observatory. The Lovell Telescope is reclined in the blazing afternoon sun, tracking the radioactive pulses of galactic spinning tops in the crab nebula. You couldn't wish for a more apt setting to host The Flaming Lips, a band who deal in elemental music that explores the big questions of inner and outer space.

It's so bloody hot that we are lured by the promise of 'frozen cocktails' from a small stall at the side of the main bar. We are immediately informed that “They aren't frozen” and that there is only non-frozen strawberry daiquiri available. And no, there will be no discount for this syrupy slop that tastes like warm vodka mixed with fake blood. Tight beggars can't be choosers though, so down the hatch.

The ensuing haze sees opening acts Alice Gold and Wave Machines bounce along pleasantly enough, and indeed my appreciation of Alice's raucous pop led to our subsequent lightning romance and marriage at Professor Brian Cox's country estate.

As I wake up among sheets from the sports section of a discarded copy of The Observer, OKGO are pounding their way through 'Get Over It', and they provide a necessary jolt of no-frills entertainment for the crowd, as the late afternoon torpor recedes and the real sense of anticipation kicks in. On cue, here come our Cumbrian heroes British Sea Power, clad in a combination of jackets and tank tops and all-in-one sleeping bags. They are no strangers to gigs in unconventional locations, and just as I start to grouse about the lack of action down the front because of 'bloody music tourists', 'Waving Flags' gets the whole site jumping about and, er … waving air flags. An astonishing version of 'Cleaning Out The Rooms' renders all peripheral matters supremely irrelevant, the swelling euphoric noise pounding the air around me like crashing waves. Sunset thoughts turn toward the cosmos as the massive white face of Lovell drones into life and begins to languidly turn towards the crowd. It is a truly imposing sight looming from behind stage right.

In traditional style, the Lips lug their own gear into place onstage, safe in the knowledge that a sneak preview of the band members will never detract from the impact of the show. Tonight's set is plucked from across their back catalogue, from the scuzzy pop of 'She Don't Use Jelly' to the black hole electro-doom of 'Is David Bowie Dying?' So many of us casually toss hyperbole about the ability of music to transport you to another place, to feel part of a collective consciousness...man. It's mostly frothy bullshit, but The Flaming Lips come closer than anyone else, especially live. They have that knack of hitting you right in the gut. It's in the way the love of 'What is the Light' breaks down into the loss of 'The Observer'. It's in the poignant throb of 'See the Leaves'. Of course there's the space bubbles, the confetti, the balloons, the trippy projections. There's even a 76 metre wide satellite dish being used as a screen. But the biggest, most impressive thing at a Flaming Lips show is the sound. Wayne Coyne announces that “This is the greatest place to be on Planet Earth tonight,” and a spine-tingling 'Do You Realize?' brings the night to a singalong close. It's one of those awe-inspiring moments I'll never forget, whether I expand to become infinitely cold and distant, or contract to a single point of light.