Shows/1990-11-27
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Setlist: (incomplete and possibly out of order)
They Might Be Giants
Sydney Town Hall in Sydney, Australia
November 27, 1990
Fan Recaps and Comments:
"They Might Be Giants... but they still look like nerds" by Shane Danielsen
Sydney Morning Herald, Nov. 30, 1990:
LOOK at They Might Be Giants and you can almost guess at their history. They're the two kids who usually team up early in high school: stocky, bespectacled John, and tall, skinny John.
Loners, both of them, and probably regarded by the rest of the class as "weird", they learnt quickly to converse in their own secret language. Sometimes they let us listen in. Not that we learn much: Chess Piece Face, Kiss Me, Son O'God, Purple Toupee − the titles tend only to confuse us further. Yet there are times when it all makes perfect sense: the sublime Birdhouse in Your Soul contains at least one absolutely classic sentiment, when they turn their nasal harmonies to the line, "Not to put too fine a point on it, say I'm the only bee in your bonnet." It's a couplet worthy almost of Cole Porter − so silly, yet so witty. So right.
Their show itself is a mixture of many things, not all of which are easily reconciled. Part cabaret, part pop concert − and leavened with more than a touch of dadaist theatre − the only rule seems to be to Keep It Moving, Don't Stop. Pause for breath and you've lost them. Thus, while one John is a still steady figure at stage left, resolutely pumping his piano accordion, the other is a veritable blur of colour and motion − bouncing all over the stage, swapping easily between an electric guitar that seems to be playing him, two trumpets (simultaneously) and a big bass drum − all the while exhorting the crowd to chant, cheer and finally, as is this band's custom, to "scream like you're in Hell". All of which is fine − showmanship with a capital "S" − but it neglects to mention just what it is that makes They Might Be Giants the immeasurably precious commodity they are. Which means the songs. The Johns themselves are fun and engaging, but the songs make them great.
Yet despite the classic guitar-pop of songs like ANA Ng and Don't Let's Start, this duo seem to approach pop music only, tangentially. In the best tradition of the vaudeville they often represent, they draw from an extremely wide cross-section of music (country, swing, folk, blues) and pervert them to their own rather twisted ends. Pop songs are just one. There is a wonderful feeling to a They Might Be Giants song. It's the sense of freedom, the suspicion that anything could (and probably will happen: for once, the rules have been suspended, it's all fair game. It could so easily be too clever by half, crammed with self-conscious references and consumed by the sense of its own daring.
But instead, it's just them − these two lovable nerdy-looking men, these all-singing, all-dancing fools − doing what they do for the simple reason that it's all they can do, but doing it well, nonetheless. They're impossible not to love.
