The father and son are at the top of the guest list for some of the biggest events of the festive season in South Australia.
Gen Y Sean said the only drawback of his explosive career was always having to work on New Year's Eve.
"I'm only young so it is disappointing not to be able to go out with my friends on New Year's Eve," he said.
"But when you've got a job like doing fireworks, you've got to take the good with the bad and I have a lot of fun."
By day, the Philpots work as fire safety officers, providing on-site training about fire equipment.
By night they stage dramatic performances in the skies and there is always the pressure to deliver something different to thrill the crowd.
"The tension does build when you're heading toward a show because there's always that thought that if something doesn't happen, you've got a big crowd in front of you," Sean Philpot said.
"If you don't do it to the best of your ability, people will be disappointed and often the crowd will let you know about it."
Mike Philpot said his career in pyrotechnics came about by chance after he had the opportunity to help at a fireworks show at Sydney.
"When I was young I was in the Australian Navy and I got assigned one day to run some people around Sydney Harbour in a little work boat," he said.
"They were from a major fireworks company on their way to set up a display. I got invited to help and from there on I've done fireworks for over 30 years."
He worked on stage shows for headline acts including Kiss and INXS before starting his own ballistics and fire safety business at Barmera in South Australia.
Mike Philpot has seen plenty of changes in the industry, including greater regulation of firework technicians and the introduction of electronic detonation.
He maintains the audience is never at risk from properly-staged firework shows but recalls an incident years ago when he received serious facial injuries while assisting with a show in Adelaide.
He said the person in charge had loaded shells for a one-off burst before the main event.
"Something had gone wrong in the loading of the shells," he said.
"Six went up in the air and we watched that and then we realised it was only six and as we looked down, the seventh shell was actually sitting on the ground.
"It exploded, knocked us all over ... I had been hit in the face, my cheeks had been broken, my nose had been broken. I had to have reconstructive surgery on my face."
But the thought of leaving the industry never entered his mind.
"Fireworks are in my blood, I could never stop doing it," he said.
Part of the addiction of working with fireworks and creating spectacular shows is the adrenalin rush.
"When we fire the really big shells, the six-inch and eight-inch, then it's a real adrenalin rush, the lifting charge is a much larger charge so you feel the concussion through your body," Mike Philpot said.
"If you're on a jetty or something like that, you actually feel that come through the jetty ... the force involved, you know you're using large pieces of explosives."
At a starting cost of $1,800 per minute, fireworks shows are not cheap but the Philpots say there is a lot of work behind the scenes.
"People don't see the labour that goes into it, all the fireworks are hand-made and we spend at least a full day before we go to the oval," Mike Philpot said.
"When you do a good show, you know because the crowd goes absolutely berserk. That's the main thing and it's a good stress relief, blowing things up is always good."