TMBG research paper

Well, it's finally done! My semester project, the TMBG research paper... done after months and months!
Before I get to it, I want to thank all of the sweet people on the interwebz who took time out of their schedules to help me. Thanks to everyone in the tmbg and linnell_girls communities on livejournal who gave me ideas and pointed me in the right direction in the beginning, and to everyone who contributed a quote. They were fantastic, and I wish I could've used them all. :) A huge thanks to Quinn, and to Biff from the TMBG talk forums (tmbgtalk3.ipbfree.com/index.php) for linking me to tons of useful material. And lastly, thanks to my TMBG army on twitter: @valerie2776, @TheKeyOfEMajor, @dunklekuh81, @suchducks, @antigone_spit, @zouljiin, and @jadeybeans, who were my link to the TMBG hive mind on the fly.

Without further ado!

(Warning: this thing is like 20 pages!)





They Might Be Giants

“They Might Be Giants” is a set of words readers may not have heard together very often. As a band, they’re not extremely well-known to the general populace. However, look harder, and it becomes clear they’re far from irrelevant. They’ve been featured on movie soundtracks. They’ve written theme music for popular TV shows. They’ve won Grammys. They’ve made groundbreaking music and videos; earning the distinction of being one of the first alternative groups to get play on MTV, and inspiring a wave of indie and alternative bands, including Weezer, Fountains of Wayne, Barenaked Ladies and Jonathan Coulton. This is a band that’s gotten played on Bob Dylan’s radio show, parodied by Weird Al, and are the most prominent band on Michael McKean’s iPod. This is a band that Dan Deacon has said of: “It was everything I ever wanted to hear but didn't know until hearing it” (Breihan).
And, this is a band that has dedicated fans, and many of them. TMBG are the subject of many forums and Livejournal groups, countless fansites, and even have their own fan-run wiki. There are people, from teenagers to older folk, who’ve gone to 30, 50, 100+ concerts; who’ve followed them around on tour; who begin to recognize people at shows and form communities. People have made friends and met spouses because of Them.
This doesn’t happen to bands that are irrelevant, unoriginal, and mundane. Obscure is not equal to unimportant. In fact, their uniqueness in style, called often by critics “strange” or “quirky,” makes them a band a lot of people don’t get. But there are a lot of people that do. Though they have only achieved moderate mainstream success, They Might Be Giants create unique, artistic, and groundbreaking music that has shaped modern alternative rock and influenced the lives of many dedicated fans, and they do so in their own inventive way.

I. Forget What You’ve Been Told in the Past: The History of They Might Be Giants

There are many bands that I like which come out and then break up, or change their musical style and begin to annoy me. TMBG keeps it up year after year. Every time I think that I'm over them, I go to a concert and have a great time. - Kim Wood, fan

Before becoming an unlikely success, They Might Be Giants had a modest start as two kids who were not initially serious about a career in music. The two founding members, keyboardist John Linnell (born June 12, 1959) and guitarist John Flansburgh (born May 6, 1960) first met as teenagers at Lincoln-Sudbury High School in Lincoln, Massachusetts. Even as a sophomore, Linnell had a reputation as a strange and creative person, and Flansburgh attempted to gain his friendship by showing him some of his own artistic endeavors, such as a play with 150 acts. The shy Linnell wasn’t sure what to make of Flansburgh at first, but they began to form a friendship when the two both joined the staff of their high school newspaper. Throughout high school, they would work together to distribute homemade cartoon booklets and make enigmatic recordings on Flansburgh’s 4-track recorder (Schnack).
After high school, Flansburgh attended a few different colleges, ultimately getting his degree from the Pratt Art Institute in New York City. Linnell spent a year at the University of Massachusits before joining a new wave band called The Mundanes, who would release a 7” promo record, but break up before making a major hit (Linnell). In 1981, after coincidentally moving into the same Brooklyn apartment building, Flansburgh and Linnell would occasionally contribute to each other’s musical endeavors, and then began to busk together on the Brooklyn Promenade (Schnack).
In 1982, the duo formed a band and began to write songs together. Their first gig, billed under the name ‘El Grupo De Rock And Roll,” was at a Sandinista rally in front of a primarily Spanish-speaking crowd (Weiskopf). They first adopted the name “They Might Be Giants” in 1983, after a friend with a failed ventriloquist act of the same name (who himself borrowed it from an old George C. Scott movie that references a Sherlock Holmes story that takes the line from Don Quixote) told them they were free to use it (Wilson).
The group soon became a prominent local band in Brooklyn, where they would play frequently at alternative clubs, and often pack smaller venues beyond capacity. In their live shows, they were accompanied by a drum machine and pre-recorded backing tapes, and often incorporated props and theatrics. Because of this, and their unusual subject matter, they were not immediately accepted by the rock n’ roll crowd. They were, however, embraced by fans of performance art, and found themselves playing at East Village avante-garde clubs like Darinka, next to acts like Karen Finley and Steve Buscemi (Schnack).
In late 1983, after Linnell broke his wrist in a bicycling accident, and Flansburgh’s apartment was robbed, they found it difficult to continue to perform. To keep making music, the two devised their trademark “Dial-A-Song” service. Each day, the band would record a demo of a new song on Flansburgh’s Record-A-Call 675 answering machine that fans could call in to listen to. They advertised the number in The Village Voice, but put it under “personal ads” instead of business to lower the weekly cost they would have to pay. As a result, they were afraid to make any mention of who they were either on the message or in the ad, which featured only the phone number and often a cryptic slogan such as “Dial - wash brain - repeat,” and many callers didn’t realize who they were listening to (Schnack).
In 1986, the band first gained national prominence when a demo tape they self-produced and sold at their shows was reviewed by Michael Small in People Magazine, who raved about their eccentric style and provided the number to Dial-A-Song as well as a number readers could call to order the tape (Schnack). Shortly after, director Adam Bernstein saw TMBG perform at Darinka, and met with them after a show to ask if he could direct and produce their first music video. “Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head” was shot with a budget of only $1500 on the ends of film strips that had been discarded, but nevertheless met mild critical success, and received airplay on MTV (Direct From Brooklyn). Six months later, Bernstein directed their next video, “Don’t Let’s Start,” which is considered the first indie music video to go into common rotation on MTV. (Schnack) The band was signed to Indie label Bar/None the same year, and released their self-titled debut album shortly after.
In 1989, TMBG released their second album, Lincoln, which was more melody driven and less experimental than their previous effort, but retained its enigmatic lyrical style and unusual instrumentation. The first single from the album, “Ana Ng,” peaked at number one on the CMJ college charts, provoking the attention of major labels.
In late 1989, the band was signed to Elektra Entertainment, and in 1990 they released their major label debut, Flood, which remains their most well-known album, and has been certified Platinum as of 2009. Though still considered very “alternative” to the average popular music of the time, the album was far more accessible than previous records, and drew more of an influence from traditional rock and folk music. The album’s single, “Birdhouse In Your Soul,” peaked at number 3 on Billboard’s Hot Modern Rock Tracks chart and 6 on UK Singles, and was performed by the band on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. Two other favourites from the album, “Particle Man” and a cover of The Four Lads’ “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” were turned into Tiny Toons animated shorts, whose viewership with young audiences would be many since-dedicated fans’ first exposure to the band (Schnack).
In 1992, TMBG returned to their unconventional roots with Apollo 18, which included 21 ten-second songs called “Fingertips.” The album was designed to take advantage of the shuffle mode on CD players, with the idea that at least one Fingertip would play between long tracks. 1992 also marked the beginning of a radical change in their image - despite their reputation as a duo that performed with a drum machine and pre-recorded backing tapes, they boldly took a suggestion from Elektra and expanded to a full band, including a 2nd guitarist, a bassist, and the unprecedented human drummer. Many hardcore fans were outraged, and felt that the band had sold out; some diehards even boycotted shows and stood outside the venues, hoping to convince people not to attend (Schnack).
Dispite the backlash, Linnell and Flansburgh were pleased with their new backing band, and felt the addition had given more of a typical rock concert feel to the shows (Matthews). In 1994, they took this band into the studio to record John Henry, which was characterized by the unprecedented use of heavy guitar and horns, without loosing TMBG’s typical melodic quality.
In 1996, TMBG was dropped from Elektra because of the band’s declining mainstream appeal and the label’s increasing confusion on how to market such a unique, peculiar band (Schnack). This didn’t hamper TMBG’s touring and songwriting, and they joined Restless Records and continued to thrive as a respected alternative band with an extremely passionate, if somewhat bizarre and cult-like fanbase (Springer). They also found a new means to work their music into the lives of many: TV. As people from the generation of fans that first heard them in the 80’s and early 90’s grew up and began working in the media, TMBG were asked on several occasions to provide theme or incidental music for TV shows and movies (Schnack). These include The Oblongs, The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, Austin Powers, and Malcolm In The Middle, the theme to which they won a Grammy for in 2001. They were also asked to provide music for PRI’s This American Life on several occasions, and made companion music to an issue of the McSweeney’s literary journal.
Around the same time, the band also ventured into the realm of childrens’ music. Inspired by the desire to try something new, their first childrens’ album, No!, was released in 2002 (Springer). The album was praised by rock critics and parenting magazines alike for being a welcome contrast to a kids’ market dominated by Raffi. The band’s approach to kids’ music was to write the same type of songs they would for an adult album, and simply avoid lyrical content that featured profanity or morbid themes (Magnet Magazine). In 2005, TMBG made a deal with Disney to release a set of three educational CD/DVD sets of music for children; one each on the alphabet, numbers, and science. The “numbers” album, Here Come The 123’s, won a grammy for Best Children’s Album in 2008.
TMBG now has 14 full-length studio albums, including 2007’s drum-heavy The Else, which was produced in part by The Dust Brothers of Beck and The Beastie Boys fame. They are currently touring for their newest children’s album as well as performing a special “Flood Show,” consisting of the entire Flood album played start to finish, and working on a new rock album.

II. Purple Toupee and Gold Lame: the Impact of Cold War Culture on They Might Be Giants

My parents were hippies, and the two albums I think I heard more than any other growing up were the White Album and Abbey Road. Those albums have a lot of songs that had upbeat, catchy melodies that appealed to my child's sensibilities but lyrics that had adult, often dark, themes. I don't think I ever came across such a unique combination again until I discovered TMBG. -Kim Lumpkin, fan

One of the important parts of They Might Be Giants’s appeal is their humour. While this, like other aspects of their music, is original, it stems from a cultural phenomenon.
In the cold war era of the 1960’s and 70’s in which founding members Linnell and Flansburgh grew up, the mood was one of paranoia and mistrust. “There was an Icestorm [the 1997 movie] quality to our suburban experience,” said Flansburgh. “It was very much a post-60’s moment. We grew up in the shadow of Harvard Square, grew up in the shadow of... things like the Vietnam stuff, Watergate, and it was a very intense, politicized time” (Schnack). The spread of communism and the ideological clash of the “good” capitalists versus the “reds” who were painted by propaganda as “evil” dominated foreign policy. Although the United States and the Soviet Union never engaged in direct conflict, they saw each other as enemies, and competed in economic progress to prove each of their economic systems’ superiority. The US saw it as their responsibility to contain the spread of communism abroad, and became involved in conflicts such as the unpopular Vietnam War. Throughout this time, the threat of nuclear war seemed imminent, and, during the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, in which Cuba was found to be basing Soviet missiles, almost certain. “We lived with the daily reality that, with the push of a button in the Kremlin, we would all be dead in half an hour,” said journalist Steve Chapman. This global attitude continued well into the 1970’s, during which then British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher remarked that she worried the west was “slowly but surely losing” (Chapman). On top of this, the civil rights movement prompted huge social and cultural change domestically.
This tumultuous time saw the rise of a new form of humour, one different than those that were previously popular (Scholes). “It all comes back down to the cold war,” said author and journalist Sarah Vowell. “I think if you’re a sensitive and smart person growing up during the 70’s and 80’s in this country, there’s a certain kind of humour that appeals to you that has a sort of absurdist slant, where there are these smart people that have curious takes on a curious America, and who are funny, but in a new way. It was kind of how Letterman wasn’t Comedy with a capital ‘C.’ It wasn’t jokes about airplanes or something, it was about not taking the world for granted” (Schnack). This form of humour is a mix of black humour (often called “gallows humour”) and elements of surrealist or absurdist humour. Writers of this sort of humour portrayed “antiheroes caught up in an absurd world in which traditional values seemed no longer to apply and in which the individual appeared lost in a maze of systems” (American Decades). The bizarre occurrences of everyday life are exaggerated and called attention to, while mundane, everyday events are juxtaposed with strange, illogical, and sometimes horrifying or morbid ones. Death and other depressing subjects are treated in a comic and playful manner, and irony is often employed (Colombia Encyclopedia).
Among the well-known popularizers of absurdist black comedy in the late 1950’s to early 70’s were novelists such as Kurt Vonnegut Jr., whose Slaughterhouse-Five (1969) is a comedic story about the horrors of war, and Joseph Heller, whose Catch-22 (1961) is a terrifying account of a World War II soldier whose adventures are absurd, illogical, and laced with irony (American Decades). On stage, this humour is exemplified in what is known as “The Theater of The Absurd.” Playwrights in this movement, including Samuel Beckett and Eugene Ionesco, wrote jarringly illogical stories that lacked traditional plot movement and character development in favour of caricature-like people that serve to “create an atmosphere” (Culik). One of the best known examples of absurdist black humour may be the 1963 Stanley Kubrick film Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb, a satirization of the missile crisis that has been called “arguably the greatest black comedy ever made” (Irvine). Many avant-garde musicians have used this type of humour as well, notably Frank Zappa, whom Linnell cites as an early influence (Weiskopf).
Growing up in the 1960’s and 70’s, the typical humour of the era had a lasting impact on Linnell and Flansburgh, becoming one of the main aspects in the lyrics they write. Many TMBG songs are stories, often in the third person, about characters that are mysterious or scenarios that are bizarre and unrealistic variations on a commonplace event. Often songs are told from the perspective of an unreliable narrator, who has an obviously incomplete or warped view of the world he inhabits. Skewed references to the pop culture and current events of the 1960’s and 70’s show up frequently. This is embodied in the song “Purple Toupee.” The narrator in the song authoritatively speaks of his memories of events of the 60’s, but doesn’t remember anything clearly except for the clothing, which to him represent “the entire decade, politics and all” (Weiskopf). TMBG even chose their name with this aspect of their music in mind. “The way that we thought the name was kind of interesting is so different than the popular interpretation of what makes the name interesting,” said Flansburgh. “For us, ‘They Might Be Giants’ as a set of words was this outward-looking thing, as if there was some guy looking out his window, looking at the world. It’s about the stuff going on out there that you might not be able to understand” (Schnack).
The band’s tendency to write lyrics with morbid or depressing themes that still result in being noticeably humourous has led to fan confusion on the nature of the songs, and resulted in them being described as “funny but sad.” The melodies, which are usually poppy and festive, further highlight the contrast. In an attempt to analyze their style, comedian Josh Kornbluth said “I think even the songs that might initially seem peppy, and then they seem to actually be about ‘I’m dead and you walk on my grave,’ even then, if you continue with those songs, they’re actually peppy again, in a sort of horrible way. Well, in a good way. A dreadfully good, or good dreadful... they’re weird songs” (Schnack). The song “Hopeless Bleak Despair” is a good example of TMBG’s use of humour. In the song, despair “follows” the narrator home one day, staying with him for the rest of his life. It is personified as a creature that follows him around, scaring off his friends and family. In the end of the song, the narrator’s despair finally leaves but there is a twist: “for years and years, I wandered the Earth/ Until I died and went to hell/ But my despair had ascended to heaven/ That’s how I finally got rid of it” (Mink Car)
Despite the fact that that black humour looks at first glance depressing, it actually tends to provide if not an uplifting effect, then one of contentment, or at least of acceptance. This was one of its appealing qualities both to the citizens of cold war America, and to fans of TMBG. In An Anatomy of Humor, Arthur Asa Berger writes "whenever there is a popular joke cycle, there generally is some widespread kind of social and cultural anxiety lingering below the surface that the joke cycle helps people deal with” (Kingston). Dark humour forces people to look at dark situations with detachment, so their own suffering doesn’t keep them from noticing the irony and contradictions present even in grim situations. The absurd parts of our existence are brought to the forefront to be reflected upon, while the absurdification of everyday events brings us to appreciate the sane and reliable aspects of our lives and common humanity. Scholes writes “We read this kind of writer... to keep our humanity in shape, to exercise our consciences and keep them vigorous, free, and growing.” These qualities in the music of TMBG are a source of comfort for many fans. Fan William Young said “A wise man once said that heroism isn't a lack of fear, but instead struggling on in the face of fear. Many They Might Be Giants songs are fun and catchy... but the lyrics often contain some dark, negative, subversive element. They're not the songs of positive situations, but the songs of negative situations. The songs people who are in a bad place come up with to carry them on in that place... the songs of heroes.” Many fans would often call the band’s Dial-A-Song service when in need of cheering up. “I knew people who depended on the music on the [Dial-A-Song] phone to prove to themselves you could renew your life,” said journalist Robert Krulwich (Schnack).
“The global nature of this conflict [the cold war] and the resulting trauma of living under threat of nuclear annihilation put into stark perspective the essential precariousness of human life,” wrote Jerome P. Crabb. The music of TMBG reflects on this precariousness, and calls us not to take the world, as Vowell said, for granted.

III: Marching to the Beat of a Different Drum Machine: the Creative Habits of They Might Be Giants

They don't really follow a musical formula and they just do what they like. -Danica Porter, fan

Of the many aspects of the creativity of They Might be Giants (TMBG), one of the most important to their sound is the fact that the songwriting duty is split between two people. The two band members, Linnell and Flansburgh, each have noticeably different flavors to their songwriting styles, and compose their own songs separately for the most part (Demain 163). Linnell’s songs are known to emphasize the music and feature stunningly beautiful melodies. “For some reason, I really get started with a melody,” said Linnell. “Usually the melody to me is the interesting thing, and I have to come up with the lyrics to put over it” (Demain 164). Glenn Morrow, the owner of the label TMBG were signed to throughout the 80‘s, Bar/None Records, once remarked “It almost seems like he ... has this sort of melody gene or something that allows him to write these incredible, cascading melodies that just stick in your cranium” (Schnack). Flansburgh, on the other hand, has been known to write songs that emphasize attitude, and have a more unique and experimental slant. In describing Flansburgh’s style, Linnell said “John really is an original thinker... he’s disinterested in tradition if it runs up against something that’s more attractive to him” (Schnack). Linnell and Flansburgh’s differences also play a large role in how they present themselves on stage, with Flansburgh coordinating the theatrical aspects of shows and interacting with fans, and the shy Linnell excelling more in songwriting and recording than performing. Musician Syd Straw said “John Flansburgh is like the showbiz guy. He’s very vaudeville or burlesque in a way, where Linnell kind of reminds me of Emily Dickinson.”
Although they are so different, it has been remarked that their individual songs fit together with amazing cohesiveness. In part, it is a great respect and appreciation of each other’s work that keeps their collaboration fresh, but it helps that they’ve known each other a long time, having become friends in high school, hanging out with the same group of people and sharing taste in music (Schnack). They have a lot in common in what appeals to them musically, as well as a good understanding of the others’ sensibilities and what they are trying to achieve (Demain 163).
One thing that has had a lasting impact on TMBG’s songwriting is the medium through which they first gained much exposure -- the phone. Though they started their Dial-A-Song service to keep their music heard when it was difficult for them to perform, the duo kept up on the service even after they began doing shows again. DAS earned them many new, enthusiastic fans because it was able to reach out to the type of people that didn’t often go to clubs to see bands. Fans enjoyed being able to conveniently hear new music (DAS’s motto: “Free when you call from work”), and were able to make a more intimate connection with the band because they got to hear songs start as demos and evolve (Vowell).
The telephone as a medium influenced the budding rock group in many ways. Most obvious is the effect it had on them arrangement-wise. Because the sound quality was less-than-perfect, arrangements had to become simpler and cleaner so the songs could be easily heard. Many songs also developed staccato arrangements, because the machine would interpret a long note as the ‘beep’ at the end of the message and rewind the tape. Another consequence of using an answering machine, which did record messages for the first few years, was that they could monitor audience feedback in a unique way. “Up until DAS, we were the kind of guys who had 4-track recorders in their bedrooms, and we’d overdub our voices or instruments like five million times, and go ‘Oh listen to what the guitar sounds like when it’s been overdubbed like five million times! That sounds really cool!’” said Flansburgh. “Doing DAS made us realize ... if people hang up in the middle, you can tell right away they don’t like it. You just sort of play your five thousand-guitar symphony over the thing, and if two seconds in you hear a ‘click,’ you know they hated it” (Vowell).
Another lasting impact of DAS on the band was that it forced them early on to be prolific. With the promise to uphold that callers would hear a new song every day, they couldn’t fall into a creative rut -- they had to keep producing material. “It was a way to get things done when we were kind of scratching our heads, going ‘Well, I just wrote ten songs, I don’t need to write any more songs,’” said Linnell (Schnack). Not every song penned for DAS was a hit, and in fact most never made it onto an album, but the result was that Linnell and Flansburgh developed a writing routine that kept them from getting stuck, and out of the wealth of ideas they came up with, there was a lot to pick from to expand upon and polish up for the records. “A lot of people like to think of inspiration as being like, you’re lying on the side of the hill, waiting for the clouds to cover and lightning to strike you,” said Flansburgh. “It’s this really elaborate, long process of waiting for it to happen. But sometimes, I think you can jump into the sky and grab the lightning yourself” (Vowell).
This ability to come up with song ideas quickly when needed has become one of the things the band is known for. Throughout the years they have embarked on various projects that put this to use, such as Venue Songs. During a tour in 2004, the band attempted to write a song, on the day of each concert, that “captured the character” of the venue they were playing at (Venue Songs). Other examples include a collaboration they did with McSweeney’s Literary Journal, in which they wrote music meant to be played while each story in the journal was read. Krulwich, a friend of the band, recounts: “I asked him [Linnell] to write a song about... a germ that traveled to the moon, and somehow survived. I said ‘John, how about the ballad of the lonely germ?’ ... He did it, as best I can tell, between lunch and dinner’” (Schnack).
While TMBG’s approach to songwriting may be routine, the ways in which they find their ideas for songs are not. When asked about the process, Linnell has joked “They [the song ideas] just come out of thin air!” on a more serious note adding “We just sit around, we play a lot of songs, and then we come up with the ideas... We just make them up. There’s no place for us to get our ideas from, unfortunately. We don’t have a big book on the shelf” (WFNX). The types of things they write about differ dramatically, with little unifying pattern besides the fact that their songs are primarily narrative, and often feature irony, morbid themes, and surreal, dream-like imagery. Many of the well-known songs are told from the perspective of an “unreliable narrator,” who is often a less-than-likable person in an unusual situation. Critics have both praised and criticized the band for writing lyrics that are intelligent and worldly, making reference to science, history, and pop culture, and straying from typical pop and rock subjects such as love, although Linnell says “I think we write songs about all sorts of things. We have a lot of love and romance songs as well. We just probably cover a broader range of topics” (Wait Wait... Don’t Tell Me). The lyrics aren’t the only thing eclectic about TMBG; between albums, and even between songs, instrumentation, effects and genre can be wildly different. In addition to the rock standards of keyboards and guitar, the band often includes accordion, clarinet, saxophone, stylophone, and strings, among other instruments. In their early music, they provided rhythm almost exclusively with a drum machine, and made use of various experimental techniques, including synthesized sounds, samples, and backwards-recorded guitar and vocals. Ira Glass, host and producer of the PRI radio program This American Life, which TMBG has collaborated with on various occasions, said “They’re not only prolific - more than many other bands - they write about an astonishing number of things, in this surprising, funny way. Also, although they are an actual pop band with actual pop hits, it’s hard to think of any other band in the past 20 years with more inventive arrangements. They just have this sound, this sense of how different instruments go together. They bring pre-rock instruments into the rock universe in this completely charming way. John Linnell is the Keith Richards of the bass clarinet” (Vowell). According to Linnell, this diversity is what allows them to continue to sit down and make new music as easily as they have done for past 25 years as a band. “The thing about the way we view it [their music],” he said, “is that we prefer not to objectify TMBG. It has to be a world of unlimited potential for us, it can’t have a style of an idea preset to it.” (Schnack).
TMBG has developed an enthusiastic, dedicated fanbase, made groundbreaking strides in popularizing alternative rock, and inspired a generation of independent musicians, but at the heart of their songwriting is the fact that they write songs first for themselves. “I guess both John and I, whatever we’ve done, the point of it has been to do the creative work,” said Linnell. “You really have to want to do it, independent of whether or not there’s a future in it. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but that’s how John and I got going – we really liked what we were doing. We didn’t have a career ahead of us, necessarily… we would have done it no matter what” (Demain 169).

IV: There’s No Word in English for My Style: The Creative Statement of They Might Be Giants

I found they could be not only funny, but melancholy, obscure and just plain bizarre. Their musicianship is top notch. The instruments they use are different from most straight-ahead rock bands, but they can definitely rock. -Sue Egypt, fan

Though They Might Be Giants are a band known for writing eclectic, diverse music with instrumentation, style of song, and subject matter differ dramatically between individual songs and albums, one unifying theme in their work is the fact that as a band, They Might Be Giants have always pushed the boundaries of rock, and strived to create rock music that has a decidedly un-rock attitude.
TMBG’s songwriting is very different from the typical rock music of the time in which Linnell and Flansburgh grew up. The rock scene was strongly associated with sex and drug abuse, and rock stars were unrelatable larger-than-life characters whose career relied as much on their public persona as their music. Unimpressed with this norm, the Giants’ rebellion against the typical rock image may have started well into their youth. In high school, Flansburgh and Linnell associated with a group of people that were extremely intellectual and literary. Linnell describes their attitude: “Even in the 70s when the idea of the mainstream was much less appealing to us, we wanted to do work that was kind of individualistic, and at that point there was this clear feeling amoung us and our friends that mass culture didn’t speak to us as individuals” (Demain 163). Notable of their group was a friend named James McIntyre, whom TMBG’s first album is dedicated to. He introduced them to underground music, and the beginnings of punk rock, music that “at the time was pretty much a local New York experience,” says Flansburgh. “When punk rock came along and New Wave came along, it had the perfect balance of song to attitude... and it was not about being slick. Up until that point, I think saying that you thought you should be in a rock band was sort-of like saying ‘I think I should be the incredible hulk’” (Schnack).
Rebelling against the idea of a slick, rockstar persona as essential to rock music, one of the appeals of TMBG is that they don’t present themselves as anything other than who they are. They have never attempted to manufacture an artificial stage presence, wearing their street clothes on stage and often talking casually to the audience between songs. Dan Miller, who has been TMBG’s additional guitarist from the late 1990’s onward, said “We do a lot of shows with a lot of other bands, and... [what] separates TMBG from a lot of other people is that everyone involved in it is kind of ‘as you see them’” (Schnack). This enables the audience to relate to the band, and see them as people like them whose job happens to be that of a musician, instead of a different kind of person. “[Our Audiences] don't go, 'Oh, you're just like Mick Jagger.' They go, 'Oh, you're just like my brother,’” said Flansburgh (Dougherty). This also helps to break down notions of what type of person someone has to be to like a certain type of music. Vowell said “You could participate in the rock and roll of TMBG without having to be pretending to be more messed-up than you are. You didn’t have to pretend to be some bacchanalian messed-up person, you could just be a normal, middle-class driver and still enjoy songs in 4-4 time” (Schnack).
Although TMBG’s genuineness in how they present themselves might suggest their songs are also genuine and personal, this is not the case. The band prefers to write songs that are outward-looking instead of autobiographical and reflective. Flansburgh described them as having a “general idea of keeping the idea of the band separate from our personas... we don’t really put our photographs on things, and we avoid the stuff that is just about selling us. If you’re looking at the array of performers, there’s just a lot of people that it’s about getting closer to them. That’s not really our focus” (Wolinsky). Linnell and Flansburgh write lyrics that are like works of fiction, telling interesting and sometimes bizarre stories, often from the perspective of an unreliable narrator that may have been influenced by their lives, but are not simply summaries of events that occurred or straightforward descriptions of how they feel about different subjects. They have even been known to criticize the popular notion that songs should be diary-like and represent a musician’s personal beliefs. “It’s not interesting to publicly cry,” said Linnell. “That doesn’t even have the effect of making me sad. I think the thing that’s really sad is when someone represents some inner sadness in another way” (Schnack). “We present a lot of complicated stuff in our work, and we feel that's challenging enough to our audience,” says Flansburgh. “There are a lot of performers whose work and personas are very wrapped up together, and their songs are almost a form of autobiography. But I think our songs are a little more idea oriented” (Thomas).
The type of songs TMBG writes are very narrative. However, their stories are just that; stories, individual cases that Linnell and Flansburgh insist are not always meant to represent major themes or universal truths. The important and interesting things in the stories are the unusual, unique characters, and the interesting events that happen to them. In this way, their songs are more like literature than many popular lyrics. Even though themes are sometimes intentionally present, fans tend to exaggerate the significance of symbolism and see meanings in everything, often debating the ‘message’ of the lyrics and what things are supposed to represent. “I really feel like a lot of the time people get everything, and the things people think they don’t get don’t exist. There’s nothing missing in their understanding,” said Linnell. (Schnack). The band laces their lyrics with imagery of objects and events that are surreal and dream-like, but while much bizarre imagery seems to suggest heavy metaphors for things, the Johns urge fans to take their music at face value. “We'll be trying to write a real direct song, and people will think that there must be some hidden meaning,” said Flansburgh. “I feel like we could write a song with the title ‘I Wanna F**k You’ and people would still say, ‘I don't understand...explain to me what that song means’” (Springer).
Many of the subjects of TMBG’s songs are unusual to rock, an aspect of their music that has earned them many intellectual fans. In the quest to present interesting stories, topics venture away from the typical rock themes of love and heartbreak into science, history, pop-culture, animism, language, space, robots, death, museums, misanthropy, mythology, philosophy, puppets, and beyond. “They don't write love songs, and when they do, they blow your mind with their originality,” said fan Anna Sangster. “There are as many ways to interpret [TMBG’s] ‘Museum of Idiots’ as there are to interpret Frost's ‘Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.’” Ira Glass said “Once I got into a conversation with them on [their song] Meet James Ensor, and they were completely elliptical... at one point, I was like ‘What were you guys thinking that you’d put that into a song?’ and all I could get out of them was ‘No, he is a really great painter!’” (Schnack). Their 1990 hit “Birdhouse In Your Soul” is a beautiful song with a sweeping melody about love and devotion, but with a twist; it is told from the perspective of a nightlight. “That’s too much for some people to process,” said novelist Dave Eggers of the song, “so they call it wacky” (Schnack). TMBG, though, are not trying to be wacky. "We don't want it to sound weird," said Linnell. "That isn't the idea. If we were trying to be quirky, we'd be a lot more quirky. We're doing something that is personal. We don't want it to sound generic and so our music is defined by what we like as opposed to what we think other people will like" (McManus).
TMBG’s stories often contain absurdist elements, black humour, whimsy, and irony, which “aren’t words you find nestling comfortably alongside rock and roll in too many places” (Santoro). Though their sophisticated lyrics are often dark, they aren’t depressing to listeners; in fact, they have the opposite effect on many fans. Since the band formed in 1982, many people have become dedicated, enthusiastic fans, finding comfort and relief in music that is unique and intelligent, diverging courageously from the norm, and treats even the most depressing subjects with a little humour and a good beat. “It’s very darkly merry. It’s kind of that happiness that recognizes the dark side,” said Vowell. “If you just looked at a lyrics sheet, you would think song after song would just be some sort of dirge ... But the music, the sound just comes in a cheers you up” (Schnack).

~

Obscure but not irrelevant, intelligent but not pretentious; being just-off-the-radar for most folk hasn’t kept They Might Be Giants from doing what they want in their own way. While dissimilar to what most define rock to be, they’ve made a career and a name for themselves, becoming an icon in the indie world and continuing to maintain a devoted following even after 25 years. The continued enthusiasm and originality in their studio albums and live shows is a beacon to those who fear declining artistry and increasing commercialism in music. Marilyn Manson might say that rock is dead, but the very existence of They Might Be Giants counters that rock is very much alive -- it sometimes just doesn't look like one expects.

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