1989-05 EB/Metronom
They Might Be Giants
By Peter Scharf, EB/METRO-NOM, May/June, 1989
Archived from: page 1, page 2
Interview conducted before one of the band's concerts in Germany, likely during their March 1989 tour; translated from German.
"All life is suffering" (Schopenhauer) - "All life is a lie" (Liliencron) - "Life is a continuous chain of betrayals" (France) - "Life is not a still life" (Kokoschka) - "Life is a strenuous attempt to fill empty hours" (Campbell) - "Life is a placebo masquerading as a smile" (They Might Be Giants)
In a car, somewhere in America, whether on the West Coast, East Coast, or somewhere in between. A car with a radio and an antenna that, for a change, hasn't been broken off by some dimwit. The reception is good, 18 or 19 programs can be received.
"Life is about choosing," said Tucholsky, so one doesn't stick with one station, but rather switches through them all in turn, and the immigrant country America is reflected in the entire range of its musical styles: Country, folk, musical melodies, waltzes, boogie-woogie, shanties, square dance, to name just a few.
So approximately, albeit in the levelled, total culture shock-avoiding pop guise, one might imagine the repertoire of the two late twenty-somethings John Flansburgh, glasses, stocky, constantly scurrying across the stage with a guitar that appears delicate in his hands, and John Linnel, rather slender, seemingly a typical representative of the New York art scene, with the inevitable bangs over his eyes, distinctive nasal singing, and his signature instrument, the accordion.
They met in the early 80s when they both attended Highbury High School in Lincoln, Massachusetts, and worked together on the school newspaper. Connected by their interest in music, they began with their first musical attempts, where playing the guitar had to be painstakingly developed. After the collaboration with a full band was deemed unsuitable, they began to accompany pre-recorded tapes with guitar, accordion, and vocals.
The university career was put on hold, and instead, they have been regularly playing in various New York clubs since 1983 and touring up and down the East Coast. Four years between music and some unloved but life-sustaining jobs, a time during which their now legendary Dial-A-Song service began to establish itself (001 718/387 6962).
Constantly changing pieces, always accessible via answering machine, even though John Flansburgh's skills at that time were still limited to operating a cassette recorder, regularly inform the Giants about how a new song is received by the audience. "If someone doesn't like it, they usually hang up immediately."
With the release of the self-titled debut LP in 1987, TMBG's "zero hour" began. Returning from their detour to Europe, where they had mostly played in front of enthusiastic but few spectators, they found that back home, record sales had already reached six-figure numbers, the video for "Don't Let's Start" was in heavy rotation on MTV, and finally, they stood as the most successful independent band in America in 1987.
In the meantime, their second LP "Lincoln" has been released, which picks up where its predecessor left off. A pop potpourri, created through the adaptation of various music styles. Overly nervous, hyperverbal songs, full of quirks, allusions, and forced rhymes ("We learn to swim for home, but our only home is bone / How sleepless is the egg knowing that which throws the stone foresees the bone" - "Cowtown").
Do you believe that your lyrics can be understood by everyone, even if they are not American and not from New York?
- John L.: "I believe everyone can make something of them. They are sometimes open to different interpretations and not always easy for Americans to understand. Some texts are 'just a mess,' thrown-together thoughts, associations, randomly strung together; for us, they still have a certain meaning, of course."
- John F.: "Often we don't even realize that something must remain unclear without the cultural references. Whoever knows nothing about Vietnamese immigrants in New York won't initially understand what "Ana NG" is about. NG is not an abbreviation, but a last name that can be found over three pages in the New York phone book."
What is "Kiss Me Son of God" about?
- John L.: "The model is the singer of a rather unknown New York band who behaves like an egocentric superstar."
How did the success of your debut album manifest for you?
- John F.: "We now play in front of significantly more spectators, we don't have to go back to our old jobs, you see your own video on television, in many areas a new experience."
- John L: "As an independent band, everything goes a bit slower, the promotional effort is also significantly less. You tour, some people see you, tell others about it, some buy the record, etc. At the moment, we are at a level of success that is very good for us, which we should try to maintain. Maybe over time we will become a bit more well-known, our music is actually easily accessible to everyone."
You have always been announced as a "comedy band" before the current tour, a term that doesn't quite suit you?
- John F.: "No, absolutely not. The term, as it is primarily understood in America, reduces our music too much to its comedic aspects. Much of it, however, is meant satirically, has a deeper meaning, and uses humor as a means to an end. Sure, you can laugh at many of our songs, but we also have downright sad pieces."
"Piece Of Dirt," for example.
- John F.: "Exactly. For me, most of the tracks on the new album have a rather sad mood anyway - it's a really dark record."
A claim that one might not immediately agree with, but which, when comparing the new LP with its predecessor, has a certain validity. The up-tempo pieces like "Don't Let's Start," "Put Your Hand Into the Puppet Head," or "Rhythm Section Want Ad" have noticeably given way to quieter numbers. And, the effort to present a larger number of complete songs instead of many song snippets becomes clear. Overall, the album feels a bit more relaxed and homogeneous.
- John L.: "I hope that one day our music will no longer be constantly scrutinized for various influences, but will instead be referred to as the TMBG style, similar to, for example, Tom Waits."
His music is also not dissected and assigned to different directions; it is always just Tom Waits. Not the only name that should come up in this conversation.
- John L.: "Everyone compares us to Camper Van Beethoven, do you see it that way too?"
If we're making comparisons, then more with Color Blind James Experience.
- John F.: "Great name. Is he actually colorblind?"
To my knowledge, yes...
- John L.: "I always thought they were English."
- John F.: "No, Americans, I read that."
How do you find Eugene Chadbourne?
- John L.: "Great. A genius. A national treasure. I don't know everything he has done, but we once performed together. It was fantastic."
The obligatory question to the New Yorker: Lou Reed?
- John F.: "I can't get much out of him. The lyrics may be good, but he has no melodies. Since the third VU LP, nothing has changed for him in that regard."
- John L.: "I once saw him on stage with the Feelies, and I thought he was quite good. Overall, the Feelies, a fantastic band. One always has the feeling that they don't know what they're doing when they create their hypnotic guitar sound."
One question should have at least been asked, but it answers itself, because it was no coincidence that Beatles tapes were playing non-stop before the concert began. How could one be named John and not like Paul?
— Peter Scharf