As if his maximalist productions weren't enough — lysergically blissful, surgically spiralized engorgements of sound that pull from the outer reaches of jazz, deep space funk, Top 40 hip-hop and avant-garde cinema — Flying Lotus presents yet one more dimension for us to keep track of: the shit flying at your face during his concert. Too much is never enough for Steven Ellison, the creative force behind the Los Angeles anti-hive-mind Brainfeeder collective (Thundercat, Kamasi Washington, et al.), the five universe-traversing Flying Lotus LPs (capped by 2014 white light You're Dead!) and the surprise-reveal MC Captain Murphy. Thus we now have this how-on-earth/why'd-it-take-so-long contradictory epiphany, an audiovisual maelstrom of eyeball-frying laser beams and eardrum-searing aural terraforming from the man whose 2016 directorial vehicle (Kuso, driven drunk by a clown car of comedians and musicians including Hannibal Buress, Tim Heidecker, Busdriver and George Clinton) crash-landed in the Bermuda Triangle between body horror, B-movie comedy and explicit pornography. (Actual Variety review: "Like 90 minutes of a toddler sticking its stained finger in your face while giggling, 'Looka my poopie!'") Don't worry, even that critic agrees his music is amazing. And it should be said that the shit flying at your face will not be literal shit, although maybe Ellison reads this and gets another idea. Seven Davis Jr. and PBDY open. Tickets $30-$45.