Photo credit: Kelsea McCulloch
Of all the bands playing last Saturday in Milwaukee, it's doubtful any other opened with a song from one of their children’s albums. Then, too, it’s doubtful there's any other band quite like They Might Be Giants.
The ominously whimsical "Robot Parade," along with the few other kiddie ditties played by the band led by guitarist John Flansburgh and keyboardist/accordionist/clarinetist John Linnell in the course of two hours summarizing their prolific 36-year career, differ only slightly in lyrical perspective from their material intended for listeners of any age.
That perspective—a hybrid of novelty music's goofiness, an almost naive awe at the most amazing and mundane things the universe has to offer, and just enough of a serious streak to evidence that they're not solely about getting laughs—has garnered the band a following that, on a Venn diagram, overlaps heavily with role players, comic collectors and science-fiction convention attendees. That is to say, it doesn’t take smarts, a skewed sense of humor and vivid imagination to appreciate TMBG, but it probably helps.
The five-piece band's tunefulness can easily sell their artistry to those outside the groups's core demographic of seeming geeks and schlubs, represented by Linnell's and Flansburgh's respectively wiry, clean shaven and wire-rim glasses-wearing, paunchy looks, too. One might not care about a birdhouses in one's soul, why the sun provides light and warmth, or maintaining distance from a friend who hangs around a racist jerk, but the indelible nature of TMBG's melodies make lyrics almost moot points.
The act’s mannered exterior doesn't preclude them from rocking out, however. Though he doesn't play his instrument with the heavy tone of a heavy metal maestro, Flansburgh can strut with his axe with the best of them. And exposing the experimental streak that continues to inform his and Linnell’s work, fans in the front row got to strum through those guitar strings as he ran it across the lip of the stage, in the manner of early TMBG collaborator and avant-garde guitar hero Eugene Chadbourne. In more traditional manifestations of rock ego, the group’s bassist, drummer and other guitarist, each got brief stints in the spotlight to solo as well, though never at the expense of impeding the evening's frenetic flow.
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Apart from "Istantbul," their take on a pop-folk classic that stands as one of the band's signature songs after its appearance on 1990's platinum-certified Flood, They Might Be Giants' taste in remakes ran from funny exploitation and sincere tribute. Their take on Destiny's Child's "Bills Bills Bills," with gender pronouns unchanged, Flansburgh explained as their pseudo-cynical attempt to up the combo's profile by hopping aboard Beyonce's bandwagon, but it showed their willingness to wander from their alt-rock comfort zone. A stripped-down rendition of Johnathan Richman's "I Was Dancing In The Lesbian Bar" paid saluted an influence that solidified Linnell's and Flansburgh's musical friendship while both lived near Richman's native Boston, and probably touches upon all three guys' round peg/square hole worldview.
The Giants' principals' added local flavor to their generous set list with mentions of some Milwaukee neighborhoods, the slightly angled stage of the venue they were playing and their recollection of collapsing the Modjeska Theater stage in '92 after fans joined them for an impromptu dance. Though their current tour marks a break in their concert schedule for a while, they seemed genuinely enthused to return to the scene of their literal downfall once renovations at the Modjeska are complete.
After two sets of encores, Flansburgh urged the audience to keep abreast of the band's activities at their website, DepecheMode.com. The last joke of the night was worthy of all the brainy fun that preceded it.
