Shows/2023-01-12

13 wikians attended: Arbitropia Beanmom Bells12 Chillpower Chimpoozle Doktorworm Dr-exmedic Hopelessbleakdespair James.K.Folk Micahmj11 Selfcallednowhere TDK Yomoneyboat

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• Setlist

Setlist:

Set 1:

• They Might Be Giants (Alt. Version) Intro
• Letterbox
• Synopsis For Latecomers
• Brontosaurus
• Birdhouse In Your Soul
• The Guitar
• Twisting
• Someone Keeps Moving My Chair
• Women & Men
• Let Me Tell You About My Operation
• Hot Cha
• Whistling In The Dark
• stelluB
• Minimum Wage
• Moonbeam Rays
• Road Movie To Berlin
• Doctor Worm

Set 2:

• Hearing Aid (Alt. Version) Intro
• Video of stelluB reversed
• Dead
• Man, It's So Loud In Here
• Your Racist Friend
• We Want A Rock
• Number Three
• Don't Let's Start
• Istanbul (Not Constantinople) (John & John)
• The Darlings Of Lumberland
• Lucky Ball & Chain
• Spy
• Theme From Flood
• Particle Man
  • Rocket Number Nine Take off for the Planet Venus

Encore 1:

• I Can't Remember The Dream
• When Will You Die

Encore 2:

• Fingertips

They Might Be Giants
Union Transfer in Philadelphia, PA
January 12, 2023 at 8:00 PM

Fan Recaps and Comments:

Review by Stacey Pavlick, Spectrum Culture, Jan. 16, 2023:

The floorspace was dotted with folks sporting paper crowns provided by the Johns; the sight of random IT-core dudes holding convos in cartoonish headpieces created an atmosphere of on-brand whimsy. (“Make sure you take care of them,” cautioned Flansburgh, “so you can take them home and… sell them.”) This particular show – the second of a two-night sold-out run – was billed as the Flood anniversary show (as opposed to the “favorites from Flood” show), re-re-rescheduled from the original 2020 tour date. And so we celebrated the 32nd anniversary of Flood with that now-ubiquitous +2-COVID-years adjustment. The band’s request for attendees to be masked was met with respectful compliance; the “Science Is Real” tees at the merch table were gentle reinforcers of the message in this new, still unfamiliar endemic reality. How lucky we are to be together finally! But let’s not push it!

“Letterbox” was the first of the Flood tracks in the setlist sequence, and that backwards shuffle effect of the intro was the perfect anticipatory launch point. No doubt this was going to be a singalong show – even through the rapid fire verses of “Letterbox,” even through the medical material of the masks – and while that’s always a blast if you’re a singer-along-er, the synergy is that much bigger and weirder when a whole audience simultaneously lights up and earnestly shout-sings about being a bag of unexpired groceries (“Dead”). We moved as a single organism, too, hundreds of arms synced in a whip-crack motion during “Minimum Wage.”

The show was divided into two acts: the non-sequential songs of Flood alternated with old favorites (“Don’t Let’s Start,” “Number Three,” “Spy,” “The Guitar (The Lion Sleeps Tonight)”) and new tracks from BOOK (“Brontosaurus,” “I Can’t Remember the Dream,” “Synopsis for Latecomers”). The Johns took turns on lead vocals and, of course, traded barbs at each other, providing just the sort of meta-commentary we’ve come to expect throughout the show (“We’ll talk about this on the drive home” Flansburgh said pursuant to real-time self-critique with Linnell replying, “Good thing we’re in separate cars”).

Perennial favorite “Doctor Worm” (“I’m not a real doctor/ But I am a real worm, a real actual worm”) buttoned up the first set with shiny-bright chaotic glee courtesy of the brass section. Dan Levine on trombone and Mark Pender on trumpet were absolute scene stealers. The calypso-inspired trumpet solo in the otherwise forthright “Your Racist Friend” took over the entire building as Pender raised his bell to the rafters (of the venue that Flansburgh correctly identified as “the old Spaghetti Warehouse”). It takes such focused command (and oxygen!) to make a trumpet lose control in those higher registers – I’m reminded of Maynard Ferguson’s uninhibited squalling. The assemblage of musicians fell away as the Johns performed “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” as a duo on a darkened stage. Linnell’s accordion occupied the spotlight as the Johns did a call-and-response of exaggerated ululations to improv new life into this old standard.

Would it surprise you to hear the encore was over 20 songs long? It was a trip and a half to hear Apollo 18’s “Fingertips” live. For the uninitiated, “Fingertips” is a mega-multi-song-collage of 21 discrete choruses of otherwise unwritten songs (or “tiny chips of songs,” as Linnell described them). If God has a sense of humor, it’s like dialing through the stations of the Great Beyond. From the happy-time pulp horror of “I Found a New Friend Under My Pillow” to the baroque sensibility of “I Don’t Understand You” to the ‘80s soft rock of “I’m Having a Heart Attack” to my personal favorite, the grand cathedral chords of “Leave Me Alone,” the only thing missing is a hiss of static in between them. “Fingertips” is the arch distillation of all things TMBG: meta-referential and able to seamlessly transition through wild styles and absurdist preoccupations. Our only job was to let go and follow along. Trash is treasure, up is down, and floods are just another reason to get to higher ground.