Rolling into Los Angeles like the conquering heroes everybody has decided they are, Beck and the Flaming Lips were both supporting critically lauded albums that work better as statements of artistic individuality than as fully realized successes. If Sea Change is melancholy made monotonous and lifeless, then Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots is higher on concept than on great tunes. Not that much of the sold-out crowd cared to nit-pick.

Wayne Coyne, Lips leader and hippie goofball, took his band through a brief but effective overview of their last two albums, throwing in a small smattering of earlier chestnuts. Oh yes, there were also folks in animal costumes dancing around the stage, and there were great gobs of crazy movies and lighting tricks as well. Thankfully, the Lips’ brief set kept them from wearing out their eccentric welcome.

Later, the indie veterans backed Beck as he went through his myriad postures: folkie, rapper, rocker, smartass, pimp. By now, Beck has splintered his fan base – you either embrace all these meanderings as signs of genius, or you sit around waiting for songs from the albums you like. But here in his adoring hometown, Beck didn’t have to wrestle with such nagging questions. He’s the epitome of postmodern confidence – for right and for wrong.