Shows/1990-03-20
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Setlist: (incomplete and possibly out of order)
They Might Be Giants
The Backstage in Seattle, WA
March 20, 1990
Fan Recaps and Comments:
"They Might be Giants (but they're fun giants)" by Samuel L. Crapps
Idahonian/The Daily News, Mar. 29, 1990:
Midway through the set, John Flansburgh announced to the crowd: "We would introduce the members of the band.. but there are just too many of us."
Thus the tone was set for They Might Be Giants, a two-musician band featuring Flansburgh and his partner, John Linnell. Backed by threee electronic metronomes on uneven wooden pedestals, along with prerecoreded rhythm tracks cued offstage, They Might Be Giants took a Seattle crowd on an exciting 75-minute journey through their music on March 20. The same enthusiasm the band shows in its "Don't Let's Start" video, shined through in the live show at the Backstage.
This spring's tour is promoting the band's third album "Flood," its first on the Elektra label. But older fans — those who've followed the band from their self-titled debut album at No. 2 "Lincoln" — were not disappointed. Flansburgh played a left-handed Telecaster, and Linnell was on the accordion as the band worked their way through newer songs like "Your Racist Friend," "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" and "Birdhouse In Your Soul," alongside with older standards, such as "Cowtown," "Hotel Detective," and the marvelous instrumental "Famous Polka" with the same consummate musicianship and sense of fun that make them such a special group.
Indeed, it was this sense of fun and lack of pretentiousness about themselves that made the evening special. When the audience began shoving during a rousing version of "Ana Ng," Flansburgh quietly asked everyone to move back, then wryly said to the people in front, "The people in back are nice folks, really, they're just trying to crush you." This sense of humor and enthusiasm infected everyone who attended, up through the closing of "Hickory Folk Family," [sic] when Flansburgh asked everyone to scream "like you're in hell."
When the audience response wasn't quite what he wanted, Flansburgh chided them: "The shy people are cheating themselves." Such is the wonderful attitude of They Might Be Giants. Don't cheat yourself from screaming, and don't cheat yourselves from having fun with your lives.
"I Think That They Jam, so 'They Might Be Giants'" by "Desperately Seeking" Susan
Seattle Gay News, Mar. 30, 1990:
The lights go down as a horn introduction lauds the arrival of the two ordinary sized men who make up They Might Be Giants. John Flansburgh plays lead guitar on the opening song, "Someone Keeps Moving My Chair." His face bathed in pink stage light, he accompanied his fellow New Yorker, John Linnell, crunching wild on the accordion. Linnell moans in a nasal voice about "Mr. Horrible, Mr. Horrible." Then Linnell shows how someone would slowly move a chair, expressing in his phrasing of the sentence with slow measured words.
I, personally have only heard the latest of They Might Be Giants' three albums. Most of their songs reflect the plight of the common man.
John Flansburgh is a lively sight during the set, jumping up and down with his guitar while a delighted audience pogo dances in the counterpoint. This reviewer's mouth dropped open when John Flansburgh played his guitar with his teeth, nonchalant as if he were peeling a banana.
Both sound and lighting wre excellent throughout the show. Before one song Flansburgh admonished the audience to not push toward the stage and crush the people in front. The music of They Might Be Giants reached all corners of The Backstage; the acoustics were that good.
One particular song they played I really liked and moved to was "Particle Man." I nodded to my Talking Head up and down to a reggae beat. Linnell sang lead on this lilting, melodic song, hugging his accordion like a lost friend.
This band could even sound like a Ricky Nelson song about a lost love. Flansburgh had mass echoes of the '50s in his voice as he moaned that he "Lost My Lucky Ball and Chain, (There Goes the Bride as She Walked out the Door),"
C'mon, play "Birdhouse in Your Soul," I kept thinking impatiently as an awesome sight greeted my eyes. On stage, Flansburgh had brought out a big bass drum, like the kind you see in a parade. He played that big mother with Linnell on accordion to "Whisting In the Dark." With a great flourish, Flansburgh pounded his "different" drum on the beat with timing better than a clock.
They Might Be Giants flew into "Birdhouse In Your Soul" then causing the audience to go into mass calisthenics, an accoridon and guitar told the song's story. "Who watches over you, Make a Little Birdhouse in your Soul."
The audience demanded and received three encores. I was satisfied with the length of the set — which was approximately an hour and a half. I must mention in passing that the Giants' sound is augmented by tapes. Thus, two men can sound like more. I was impressed with Flansburgh on lead guitar and vocals, and Linnell on accordion, saxophone and vocals, and how they harmonized with each other. Their pleasure in giving their art to many collectors gleamed brighter than a birdhouse!
What more can I say? This band is red hot and I can only say "New York, New York keep on dancing......."
