Reviews

There have been many reviews on They Might Be Giants' discography over the years. Below is the list of some of these reviews, which come from newspapers, magazines, and other sources.

1984 Promotional Demo Tape (1984)

"TAPE TALES" by Patty K.
Jersey Beat, November 1984:

They Might Be Giants (4 song cassette)

Oddball humor has always been a staple of rock 'n' roll, even before Dr. Demento made his mark on the world. But few bands can pull it off like TMBG. Every one of these 4 songs is credible and fun. The cuts are short and comical, like the social commentary "Youth Culture Killed My Dog," and the c/w spoof (complete with tubas) entitled "#3." Before you can pluck down cash to see the band, you can check out their Dial-A-Song hotline - (212) 387-6962 - which promises a different tune every day.

Wiggle Diskette (1985)

A promotional image of They Might Be Giants used for the 1986 flexi-disc review.

"SINGLES" by William Leith
New Musical Express, Aug. 10, 1985:

A world away from the savage bass-driven grudges, the hairstyle neurosis, the shoe-fear and shirt-searching and simply falling asleep at the mixing-desk that we're used to, this is two minutes of flexi-pop tricked out to look completely natural, like it didn't care, although I suspect that there's a lot of (hidden) studio microsurgery behind it. It's a miracle of compounded reference: twangy voices and wah-wah-gimmicks and burned-out psychedelia. "Your money talks / But my genius walks." This is it then, I suppose — the last word, the final vinyl.
For a copy, write to: TMB Music, 432 W. 47, NYC 10036, USA.

"THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS" by Jocelyn
Unknown source, circa 1986:

THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS, Everything Right Is Wrong & You'll Miss Me. TMB music 432 W. 47 NYC. 10036; Flexidisk $2.00.
This here's a darn good record with sum of that thar countree twang quality to it. The rural poetry of the first cut is dichotomous with the second which is dominated by city noise and an urban rap.
— Jocelyn

1985 Demo Tape (1985)

From People:
They Might Be Giants
Then again, these two guys might just turn out to be John Flansburgh and John Linnell.

"THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS" by Michael Small
People Magazine, Jun. 30, 1986:

This is a New York City band so unknown that it doesn't yet have a record label: Its music is only available on a mail-order, cheap-quality cassette. But this pop-rock duo is bound for greater glory. John Flansburgh, 26, and John Linnell, 27, write and perform songs that are just wacky and theatrical enough to make them sound unlike any other band. Yet the songs are also conventional enough that anyone can hum along. Flansburgh and Linnell champion the Ogden Nash school lyric writing; the words are nonsense, yet still a lot of fun. In Youth Culture Killed My Dog, they sing, "The hip hop and the white funk just blew away my puppy's mind." Another tune is a love ode to a female hotel detective. Some of their 23 very brief songs come across as arty throwaway jokes. But their energetic delivery makes almost any gag work.

And if their synthesizer accompaniment sounds not much more complex than the kind of musical doodling any novice can come up with, the beat makes it almost impossible to keep from dancing to numbers like Put Your Hands Inside the Puppet Head. Linnell also proves that the least hip instruments can make the hippest music as he rocks to several tracks on the accordion and the baritone sax. The Giants, who most often take on a smart-alecky new-wave twang as they sing, show themselves versatile enough to deliver a country song about a cow that lives under the ocean, a hymn about "the day Marvin Gaye and Phil Ochs got married," and an old-fashioned drinking song with the chorus "When I think about the dirt / That I'll be wearing for a shirt / I hope that I get old before I die."
These guys should definitely change their name. It won't be long before they really are giants.

(Express Music, 175 Fifth Ave., New York, N.Y. 10010, $8.98) — Michael Small

They Might Be Giants (1986)

A promotional image of They Might Be Giants used by SPIN for the article.

"They Might Be Giants" by Ty Burr SPIN Magazine, Apr. 1987:

They Might Be Giants, but they're really two New York bohemian weisenheimers named John. One John (Flansburgh) wears glasses, plays guitar and sings with a grin; the other one (Linnell) plays accordion and looks edgy. A beatbox also figures in here somewhere. Their music is ... well, remember the Banana Splits? The Banana Splits were four guys in animal suits on Saturday morning TV, circa 1986, sort of like the Monkees retooled for six-year-old acidheads. Okay, imagine that the Banana Splits went to college, read lots of Kafka and Pynchon, got Ph.D.'s and went on rent strike. Then two of 'em died. That's kind of what They Might Be Giants sound like. This is a compliment.

You'll probably wet your pants laughing from their album cover alone, because the song titles are hilarious: "Rabid Child," "Youth Culture Killed My Dog," "Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes." And a first listen to the merry dada-lyrics and peppy rhythms from forgotten game shows will make you think you've found a bona fide smart-boy novelty record: something more intelligent than Sparks (good) but not as stoopid as the Beastie Boys (bad).

Luckily, TMBG aren't entirely that wacky, even if they want to be. There's something else going on here and the first tip-off is that the funniest titles are generally the lousiest songs. The exceptions are "Youth Culture Killed My Dog," which is about exactly what it says it's about and which gets funnier and sadder each time I hear it; and "Alienation's for the Rich," which sounds like the Malboro Man after political enlightenment and a bad day. Overall, though, the songs that look the most promising are either jokey throwaways or surrealist let-downs, as if the two Johns got the laugh and lost interest.

What brings the album back to life, luckily, is that these guys have a knack for truly weird imagery ("Everything right is wrong again/You're a weasel overcome with dinge") and concepts ("Life's just a mood ring we're not allowed to see"—think about that one) that end up being funny in better, deeper ways. The glib goofiness of the first listen becomes the informed, wry mordancy of a record that eventually refuses to leave your turntable.

It helps that some of this stuff rocks reasonably hard for two art-boys with a box. "(She Was a) Hotel Detective" is a one-joke song ("Why don't you check her out?") but it crunches along just fine, and the anti-nostalgia "Put Your Hand Inside the Puppet Head" and "Hideaway Folk Family" are prime street hummers. Better still, "Don't Let's Start" is simply a great song, especially when you realize that this irresistible cartoon tune is about a lover's spat as Armageddon ("Everybody dies frustrated and sad and that is beautiful ... I don't want to live in this world anymore.").

A year ago, They Might Be Giants released a cassette tape featuring most of the songs here, but this album's much better produced and the handful of new tunes show that these guys are moving along. One of them, "She's an Angel," is an honest-to-god love song, albeit a sweetly twisted one in which the singer discovers his girlfriend really is an angel: "Why did they send her over anyone else?/How should I react? These things don't happen to other people/They don't happen at all in fact."

The record's funniest cut is its last, "Rhythm Section Want Ad," in which John and John defend their no-drummer status against the Philistines (who ask "Do you sing like Olive Oyl on purpose?/You guys must be into the Eurythmics") by laying out a lickety-split boogie riff straight from an old Betty Boop cartoon. It makes me laugh out loud every time I hear it, partially because it's ingeniously arranged but also because it's funny from the heart, because the Johns are just pissed off enough to find the whole thing really silly. It closes the album with a nice little fuck you.

You can test-drive these guys by calling their Dial-A-Song at 718-387-6962.

— Ty Burr

"Giant Novelty" by Steven Baum The Ticker, May. 12, 1987 (pg. 9):

Quite frankly, I don't understand what the fuss is all about. Two musicians release a compilation of nineteen exercises in how to be a popular songwriter, throw some currently topical and strange lyrics, and somehow convince the intelligentsia that they're going to be this year's pop sensation.

Certainly the duo of John Linnell and John Flansburgh is composed of two super talented musicians. All the bases are covered, from acapella ("Toddler Highway") to fifties rehash ("Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes") to '80s politicking ("Don't Let's Start"). They Might Be Giants realize that there's a whole well of pop music left out there, and like Camper Van Beethoven, nothing is sacred. In fact, Eugene Chadbourne plays lead guitar on one song. Outside of that, it's all Linnell and Flansburgh: accordion melodies, piercing tubas, acoustic guitars—the instrumentation is impressive. But even then, is that enough for the accolades? Has contemporary music really declined that much in the past decade?

They Might Be Giants do feature unique themes in their songs. Titles like "Youth Culture Killed My Dog," and "Alienation's For The Rich," may not sound too cool. Neither are songs about Phil Ochs and Marvin Gate getting married, or puppet heads. But the way TMBG gently twist cliches and phrases will keep you guys smiling in a manner similar to the way that these guys' two biggest influences, XTC and Elvis Costello, were able to. Now c'mon, you didn't think all the rage was focused around the great album cover, did you?

(Bar/None P.O. Box. 1704 Main Post Office, Hoboken N.J. 07030.) — Steven Baum