Shows/1989-02-24

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Links:

• Photo of the pre-show invitation and ticket stub by Jerry Rubino
• The Village Voice advertisement
• Stute review
• CLC Observer listing, Feb. 22, 1989

Ticket • Listing

Setlist:

• Piece Of Dirt Intro
• Hello Radio Intro
• Purple Toupee
• The Famous Polka
• Your Racist Friend
• Kiss Me, Son Of God
• I'll Sink Manhattan
• Rhythm Section Want Ad
• Number Three
• Where Your Eyes Don't Go
• Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love
• Istanbul (Not Constantinople)
• Santa's Beard
• It's Not My Birthday
• Lie Still, Little Bottle
• Don't Let's Start
• They Might Be Giants (Vagabond Joy)
• I've Got A Match
• You'll Miss Me
• Ana Ng
• (She Was A) Hotel Detective

Encore #1:

• Shoehorn With Teeth
• The Car Crash
• Road Movie To Berlin
• She's An Angel

Encore #2:

• Cowtown

Encore #3:

• Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head

They Might Be Giants
Puck Building in New York, NY
February 24, 1989 at 9:00 PM

They Might Be Giants backstage with Debbie Rose of ASCAP (Photo by R.J. Capak)

Fan Recaps and Comments:

This was a 16+ show performed in the Grand Ballroom sponsored by SPY & Guinness to celebrate the success of the band's second album Lincoln. A pre-concert reception was held from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m.

A review of the show from Gaj's Corner
The Stute, Mar. 3, 1989:

Sure, it's only two guys. Sure, there's no drum set on stage. It was still great. They Might Be Giants live at the Puck Building in NYC last Friday was a fun time. Fun, fun, fun. John and John's witty lyrics and bouncy tunes pleased the crowd of over 1200, the largest audience of their career. They played for over ninety minutes, using songs from their two albums and three EP's, along with some assorted unreleased stuff, like "Your Racist Friend" (also heard Monday night on TMBG Dial-A-Song, 1-718-387-6962,) and my personal favorite, "Istanbul Was Constantinople" [sic].

By the time the fourth encore [sic] rolled around, John Linnell exclaimed, "John (Flansburgh) wants to keep playing, but I'm too tired." After the groans of disappointment died down, the hall came alive again with the final final tune, "Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head." I'm ready to see them again.

Tenniru:

I was not at this show. In fact, I was not yet BORN when this show occured. Why, then, am I reviewing it? Well, I happen to have a copy of the master tape of an audience recording. And nobody else has.

The show opened with the backing track (and ONLY the backing track) of Piece Of Dirt playing over the PA. The audience at one point assumed the band was coming, then realized they weren't. Then Hello Radio started playing over the PA; the rather pathetic sound of it combined with the unsuspsenseful intro was a bit funny, and prompted a "what the hell, just come on stage already". Finally, a deep voice (an announcer? A tape?) announces the band. Some idiot starts tossing beer at Flansy's guitar, prompting some explicit responses and a very calm "there's a special place in hell for you". The performance was great, with band/tape coordination at an all-time perfect high. A unique (sporting a diffirent intro) proto-version of Your Racist Friend is a real treat, and shouts for a request go ignored by Flansburgh's feigned deafness. Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love is performed flawlessly with just the drum machine, fake bells, and the accordion. (People loudly request "The Sun" and "Birdhouse" by now; all hail Dial-A-Song.) Right at the end of this song, Flansburgh requests that "will the person whose car is on fire outside please move it?" (He confirms that there are policemen out here, and they keep the door closed to keep the smoke out; I can distantly hear a siren.) An embryonic Istanbul (Not Constantinople) is played, using the old "a guitar, an accordion, and that's all" arrangement that makes for a very short song. It's Not My Birthday suffered from a false start when the backing began before the Johns were ready to play. Someone named Pete (and two others named Chaz and Melanie) get somehow involved with Lie Still, Little Bottle although my lack of visuals here does not tell me what. After Don't Let's Start, Flansburgh breaks a string and orders the sound man to play a mysterious, unknown song he received in the mail called "I Might Be Giant, Too". (It contains the phrase "They Might Be Giants" at one point.) This thankfully is the exact opposite of what the crowd was requesting; it appears they desperately wanted either a drum solo or "Freebird". (Silly audience.)

Overall, a very good show with a good sound system, wonderful band/tape blending, and a happy audience. Also, I think the car was still on fire when the show ended.