I'm not the biggest Flaming Lips fan in the world. Or even here at Creative Loafing, where my coworkes Joe Bardi, Leilani Polk and Eric Snider all outrank me in the affection for the fun loving space rockers category.
But frontman Wayne Coyne has always struck me as a cool dude. And after reading this feature in the New York Times, which ran in the Home & Garden section, I've decided he has the raddest pad in rock 'n' roll.
Mr. Coyne’s main residence is a two-story, red-brick structure with a stone gargoyle on the roof. But he has also, over the years, acquired the three houses behind it, one of which has been painted purple and converted into storage space, while the others have been turned into guesthouses. The vacant lots on either side of the main house belong to him as well. In Flaming Lips circles, the ever-expanding property is known simply as the compound.
“It’s our firewall,” Mr. Coyne said, standing under a pecan tree in the fenced-in courtyard surrounded by the houses. “It staves off the crack dealers.”
Coyne is a rock 'n' roll Willy Wonka.
