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Setlist: (incomplete and out of order)
Fan Recaps and Comments:
- Memorial Hall is in Kansas City, KS not Kansas City, MO.
- I don't remember the setlist at all. Frank Black opened. He played solo with guitars. After every couple of songs he would pull out another guitar and swing the one he had previously been playing behind him. By the time he was done he was drenched in sweat and hand many guitars strapped to his back.
- TMBG rocked. Memorial Hall is one of my favorite venues. Max capacity is somewhere over 3,000, but it was nowhere near capacity that night, unfortunately. The show was GA so you could go where you wanted. Half-way through the show a group of dancers began assembling in the 2nd balcony where no-one was sitting. It finally grew to at least 100 people, and they danced their hearts out. My girlfriend at the time and I joined them after several songs and I have never had so much fun at a show. The second balcony has narrow rows with fold up seats, but that didn't stop anyone from dancing. It was surrealistic and beautiful. The only song I know that was played was Snail Shell.
Review by Brian McTavish, The Kansas City Star, Dec. 3, 1994:
The charm was gone.
Regardless, 2,087 young fans obviously enjoyed themselves, even forming crazy conga lines at one point. The large crowd hopped on the dance floor and on itself during such gems as "Don't Let's Start" and "Ana Ng." That those songs and others were merely dismembered instead of being completely gutted by the sonic monster on stage was unintentional testament to their greatness.
So was the personal thrill of seeing They Might Be Giants do its quirky, alternative pop-rock thing Thursday night at Memorial Hall.
That's because what the Giants do on stage has changed in the last two years - and that's not good.
The Brooklyn duo of singer songwriters John Flansburgh (guitar) and John Linnell (accordion) surfaced on the national scene in 1986. They captivated a cult following with eccentric lyrics and ebullient melodies backed by a drum machine.
Under cover of ridiculousness the harmonizing Johns struck a subtle chord in modern music fans restless (although they may not have known it) for intimate songs about puppet heads, shoehorns with teeth and purple toupees.
These days, for whatever reason, They Might Be Giants is a six-piece touring band with a big, noisy, dissonant, jamming sound that unwisely obscures the personalities of the two original characters.
Thursday's show began promisingly with Flansburgh and Linnell performing by themselves in front of a curtain. It's irresistible to note that when the curtain was raised and they joined their full band, the two had to take a step backward.