1987-04-18 Winston-Salem Journal
But What Will Kenny Think of Them?
By Ed Bumgardner, Winston-Salem Journal, April 18, 1987
Archived from: newspapers.com, page 1, page 2
It was Spring in the greater Minneapolis and St. Paul area, and John Flansburgh and John Linnell, who make up the duo They Might Be Giants, were sitting in their motel room enduring yet another nutty day on tour.
The two would-be Giants were on the road promoting They Might Be Giants, their debut album of engaging yet quirky pop music. At the time of this interview, however, the weather outside their motel room happened to be unseasonably warm, while the temperature inside was ridiculously low.
How did the two Giants equalize this? They drank ice coffee, of course. Flansburgh, the guitarist for the duo, said that this typically bizarre day, as well as all the preceding bizarre days, might well be the result of the official name for the tour.
"This is the 'Bring Me The Head Of Kenny Rogers World Tour '87,'" he said. "A few weeks into it, we just knew that it had to be named that. There was just a feeling going around the room. I mean, Kenny Rogers is a god. We want him to produce our next record. We're gonna send him a tape, but we're gonna restrict all of our songs to a four-note vocal range so maybe he can cover one of them."
Rogers may find the duo's bizarre songs left of center for his fans. Devotees of the underground pop culture, as well as MTV, seem to have no problem embracing the duo, however. Such Giants' standards as "Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head," "Youth Culture Killed My Dog" and "Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes" have received rave reviews in such lofty music publications as Spin and Rolling Stone. Linnell, the accordionist for the duo, said the band's songs are a result of "basically just keeping up with what is going on."
The duo was formed in New York City in 1983 when the pair of childhood friends coincidentally moved into, in the words of Flansburgh, "the same rundown slum tenement." Once christened They Might Be Giants, the duo began playing in the New York City area, all the while recording songs in their apartment.
These songs began to turn up on what has become part of the Giants' growing legend — their Dial-A-Phone service. To participate in the Dial-A-Phone service, all one has to do is call 718-387-6962 and listen to the duo's song of the day. Flansburgh said that this was no sort of real musical coup, but rather a concept.
"It built up to this thing where everywhere we go people come up and say, 'I called your answering machine, but it was busy,'" he said. "Many of the songs on the record did appear on Dial-A-Phone first. Now it's sort of where we audition our songs. If a song stinks people tend to hang up the phone right away. Then we realize that we should never record that song again, but should only do it on the live show."
Which brings us back to the Minneapolis/St. Paul area. Linnell said that the Giants' live show has continued to grow in intensity and popularity since the early days of the tour. In addition to the duo's props — "your basic pair of big hands, cue cards; nothing you couldn't get in the back of a mini-van" — Linnell said that the duo has picked up a few valuable tricks.
"We've got our crowd control scene down," he said. "We've learned that if you jump out on stage, scream at the top of your lungs, move real fast and then swear at the crowd — the crowd will go wild. This is especially true in the South. . . ."
Linnell said that not every club is ready for the intensity of a They Might Be Giants show.
"Probably our most memorable job was playing at the Electric Banana in Pittsburgh. I guess we'll never play there again. The club was run by Johnny Banana. He was never without his firearm. It's like Lyndon Johnson's scar — he's always willing to show it to you whether you want to see it or not. That set the mood for the rest of the gig."
"I don't know if we should say anything more. We don't want to get shot by Johnny Banana."