Without a Context
They Might Be Giants occupy a space all their own
2003-07-29
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Bizarre? Maybe. But the Brooklyn-based rock duo They Might Be Giants has definitely
stood the test of time. In August 2002, TMBG’s two Johns — Linell
and Flansburgh — celebrated their 20th anniversary in New York City’s
Central Park in front of a sold out audience. While other groups of a similar
vintage often lack the same creative potency they once had — relegated to
reunion tours and greatest hits albums — a variety of musical projects have
kept They Might Be Giants alive. Over their careers, TMBG’s imaginitive
songs have captured a large and loyal following, while still situated on the fringes
of pop culture. In a recent conversation with John Flansburgh, the Synthesis learned
about They Might Be Giants’ improbable 20-year ride and the new award-winning
film, Gigantic (A Tale of Two Johns), that tells the story.
Where They Might Be Giants is coming from has never been easy to pinpoint, but the duo wouldn’t have it any other way. Instead of riding trends or cultural waves, TMBG has evolved independent of the world around them. According to Flansburgh, this has often led the group to be misunderstood, especially in the press, stating that he has seen TMBG unfairly described as “cynical” or “trivial,” but worrying about how they are perceived and how they fit into the music world as a whole have never ranked amongst their concerns.
“I think it’s natural for rock critics to dwell on where a band exists culturally, on the spectrum of other bands — saying this musical movement is only good for this; this kind of band is in reaction to this kind of band,” Flansburg says. “Everything that’s interesting about us has nothing to do with where we fit in the cosmos of rock bands. We are not a part of the general rock culture, we don’t affect the general rock culture, we’re not particularly interested in the general rock culture. There are times when what we do synchs up with what’s going on in the rest of the world, and usually those are the times when we have a little more success, but that’s not why we started the band, or why we’re still doing it.
“We’re a band without a context, and there are very few bands like that,” he continues. “Most bands ride in on some cultural wave, and then when the cultural wave rides out, they go with it. We have a different story.”
A large part of why the two Johns have been able to survive on the fringe of the general rock public is their adherence to the same ideals since the band’s inception. Instead of setting their sites on big sales and hit singles, the band took a different approach, opting to place creative ambitions above professional ones.
“I think in some ways we are resigned to the fact that what we’re doing is never going to be particularly commercially successful, and that’s a very liberating idea,” Flansburgh explains.
According to Flansburgh, fame and fortune would have been more detrimental to their particular pursuits than helpful.
“[Starting They Might Be Giants] was really important to us on a personal level, but it wasn’t like we felt it had to make money or it had to be viable,” he goes on to say. “What was great about not having to rely on it to make money is that it could be exactly what we wanted it to be — we didn’t have to do what we didn’t want to do, we didn’t have to play shows that we didn’t want to play. It was very free that way. By the time the bigger challenges came along, we were already invested in the band on a spirtual level, and we didn’t really want anyone to mess with it. It’s a very different thing to be in a rock band when you’re 26 as opposed to when you’re 20. We really didn’t want to be that famous. It seemed like getting super famous might actually end the band more than it would help the band.”
Aside from the quirky approach They Might Be Giants has taken to their career, their approach to their songwriting has also helped set the band apart from the industry at large. Instead of composing first-person musings and intimate confessions, Flansburgh cites the band’s writing from the point of view of an “unreliable narrator,” which gives them the freedom to explore stranger recesses of their imagination and challenge their listeners.
“If you don’t have to worry about your girlfriend getting mad over you writing a song about her getting beheaded, or being misunderstood about writing a song about your girlfriend being beheaded, that’s the majestic part of writing from a character’s point of view,” says Flansburgh, who believes the singer / songwriter approach can be creatively stifling. “You can write really unreasonable things that are much more imaginative and free. Whether it’s Alice Cooper writing about making love to the dead or Randy Newman writing from the point of view of a redneck, I think that’s an interesting way of writing a song. It’s much more experimental; it’s much less obvious.”
In 2002, They Might Be Giants branched their surreal vision out even further into the realm of children’s music. No! was the band’s first attempt at making a recording specifically for kids, and according to Flansburgh, the experience allowed the Johns an amazing amount of creative freedom, saying that the album acted as a “trojan horse for our crazier ideas.” Unfettered from having to do things in “normal rock ways,” They Might Be Giants were able to explore “sillier” sounds because, as Flansburgh puts it, “four-year-olds aren’t as preoccupied with being cool as adults.” Though making a children’s album hasn’t been a lifelong dream of the band, Flansburgh says it is something that they have talked about doing since their first album.
“Ever since our very first record came out, people have told us that kids responded to our songs, and that there was something about what we did that worked for kids — an energy to the music that was really appropriate for them,” Flansburgh says. “We actually didn’t know what to do with the idea, even when we were presented with an offer to make a children’s record, we didn’t know what would be different or how to approach it. We really didn’t want to make an educational record. There are a lot of creative things in the world of children’s books and music and programs that are educational; there are a lot of people who do great stuff with it, but it just seemed like putting on an extra layer of earthbound stuff on top of our music would just tie it to the ground.”
Instead of making an educational album, much like with their material for an adult audience, They Might Be Giants took a much more imaginative route on No!.
“I feel that teaching people to tie their shoes and music should be separate. It might not even be a good way to learn how to tie your shoes anyway — although, who knows, maybe the rhyming would help,” Flansburgh muses with a laugh. “It’s just not our bag. It might be good for somebody else, but we wanted to do something that was more about imagination and just a fun thing — a piece of entertainment for kids that works in the same way as an adult’s album works to entertain people.”
Not only have Flansburgh and Linell branched out by making a children’s record, but in recent years, they’ve also been writing music for film and television. They’ve composed theme and incidental music for Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, The Daily Show with John Stewart, Nightline Primetime’s Brave New World and, most notably, They Might Be Giants received a Grammy for “Boss of Me” from the TV sitcom Malcolm In the Middle. Now, the Johns themselves will be featured in a film about their career titled Gigantic (A Tale of Two Johns) (check out www.giganticfilm.com to see where and when you can catch the movie in your area). Shot over seven months in 2001, Gigantic tells the story of They Might Be Giants through live performances, animations and commentary from fans, friends and Flansburgh and Linell themselves, who, as Flansburgh tells it, were happy to take a backseat in this project, acting as the subjects of the film as the creative reigns belonged to the director, AJ Schnack.
“I think if it had been someone else, we probably would’ve said no, but AJ had an interesting take on it, and it didn’t seem like it was going to be too demanding on us,” says Flansburgh of how Gigantic came together. “We were the subjects of the film, but we weren’t involved in the editing or structuring of it. We saw the first frame of the film at the premier. It was really his gig.”
Flansburgh says that the project was a pleasure to be a part of, but it wasn’t always easy to be followed around by cameras. Though Flansburgh describes Schnack as casual and unobtrusive, it was hard to be completely at ease as long as the cameras were running.
“You do get used to it after a while, more or less,” Flansburgh says. “But I think you get used to it like you get used to being on stage. It’s not like it completely turns off in your mind that you’re being filmed, but you just acclimate yourself to it and it stops making you clam up.”
When asked if he felt more conscious about his actions as long as the cameras were running, Flansburgh answers candidly.
“Most of the places they were filming us, we were in semi-public places anyway,” Flansburgh says. “Being in a band, in some way, is not that different from running for the state house of representatives. You meet a lot of people that you’re only going to be with for a very short time, and you have to get something done while you’re with them, and then you move on. That’s most of the stuff that’s in the movie. There’s a lot of behind the scenes stuff, as to the way the band works, but that’s sort of public stuff in its own way. We work in public places, so there’s something inherently open about it anyway.”
Be it film or music, the variety of different projects and their indifference to passing fads and trends have been what has kept They Might Be Giants such a productive duo over the past 20-plus years. This may not be a unique accomplishment in the field of music, but the drive behind TMBG’s career is far from common. While Linell and Flansburgh continue to be able to get along and challenge each other creatively after two decades together, Flansburgh does admit that their partnership, much like the music it has produced, is more of an exception than the rule.
“There are a lot of bands that have been together for 20 years, but they’re not really active creative enterprises,” Flansburgh says in closing. “I wouldn’t even recommend being in a band for 20 years if it meant being on like an oldies circuit. Bands should seriously consider not doing that. I think of bands like The Clash — they totally stepped away right at the moment when they weren’t going to fuck it up. In some ways, they died young, and they stayed pretty, and that was fine. Every band has a different story, and I’m just grateful that ours has been so exceptional.”
Where They Might Be Giants is coming from has never been easy to pinpoint, but the duo wouldn’t have it any other way. Instead of riding trends or cultural waves, TMBG has evolved independent of the world around them. According to Flansburgh, this has often led the group to be misunderstood, especially in the press, stating that he has seen TMBG unfairly described as “cynical” or “trivial,” but worrying about how they are perceived and how they fit into the music world as a whole have never ranked amongst their concerns.
“I think it’s natural for rock critics to dwell on where a band exists culturally, on the spectrum of other bands — saying this musical movement is only good for this; this kind of band is in reaction to this kind of band,” Flansburg says. “Everything that’s interesting about us has nothing to do with where we fit in the cosmos of rock bands. We are not a part of the general rock culture, we don’t affect the general rock culture, we’re not particularly interested in the general rock culture. There are times when what we do synchs up with what’s going on in the rest of the world, and usually those are the times when we have a little more success, but that’s not why we started the band, or why we’re still doing it.
“We’re a band without a context, and there are very few bands like that,” he continues. “Most bands ride in on some cultural wave, and then when the cultural wave rides out, they go with it. We have a different story.”
A large part of why the two Johns have been able to survive on the fringe of the general rock public is their adherence to the same ideals since the band’s inception. Instead of setting their sites on big sales and hit singles, the band took a different approach, opting to place creative ambitions above professional ones.
“I think in some ways we are resigned to the fact that what we’re doing is never going to be particularly commercially successful, and that’s a very liberating idea,” Flansburgh explains.
According to Flansburgh, fame and fortune would have been more detrimental to their particular pursuits than helpful.
“[Starting They Might Be Giants] was really important to us on a personal level, but it wasn’t like we felt it had to make money or it had to be viable,” he goes on to say. “What was great about not having to rely on it to make money is that it could be exactly what we wanted it to be — we didn’t have to do what we didn’t want to do, we didn’t have to play shows that we didn’t want to play. It was very free that way. By the time the bigger challenges came along, we were already invested in the band on a spirtual level, and we didn’t really want anyone to mess with it. It’s a very different thing to be in a rock band when you’re 26 as opposed to when you’re 20. We really didn’t want to be that famous. It seemed like getting super famous might actually end the band more than it would help the band.”
Aside from the quirky approach They Might Be Giants has taken to their career, their approach to their songwriting has also helped set the band apart from the industry at large. Instead of composing first-person musings and intimate confessions, Flansburgh cites the band’s writing from the point of view of an “unreliable narrator,” which gives them the freedom to explore stranger recesses of their imagination and challenge their listeners.
“If you don’t have to worry about your girlfriend getting mad over you writing a song about her getting beheaded, or being misunderstood about writing a song about your girlfriend being beheaded, that’s the majestic part of writing from a character’s point of view,” says Flansburgh, who believes the singer / songwriter approach can be creatively stifling. “You can write really unreasonable things that are much more imaginative and free. Whether it’s Alice Cooper writing about making love to the dead or Randy Newman writing from the point of view of a redneck, I think that’s an interesting way of writing a song. It’s much more experimental; it’s much less obvious.”
In 2002, They Might Be Giants branched their surreal vision out even further into the realm of children’s music. No! was the band’s first attempt at making a recording specifically for kids, and according to Flansburgh, the experience allowed the Johns an amazing amount of creative freedom, saying that the album acted as a “trojan horse for our crazier ideas.” Unfettered from having to do things in “normal rock ways,” They Might Be Giants were able to explore “sillier” sounds because, as Flansburgh puts it, “four-year-olds aren’t as preoccupied with being cool as adults.” Though making a children’s album hasn’t been a lifelong dream of the band, Flansburgh says it is something that they have talked about doing since their first album.
“Ever since our very first record came out, people have told us that kids responded to our songs, and that there was something about what we did that worked for kids — an energy to the music that was really appropriate for them,” Flansburgh says. “We actually didn’t know what to do with the idea, even when we were presented with an offer to make a children’s record, we didn’t know what would be different or how to approach it. We really didn’t want to make an educational record. There are a lot of creative things in the world of children’s books and music and programs that are educational; there are a lot of people who do great stuff with it, but it just seemed like putting on an extra layer of earthbound stuff on top of our music would just tie it to the ground.”
Instead of making an educational album, much like with their material for an adult audience, They Might Be Giants took a much more imaginative route on No!.
“I feel that teaching people to tie their shoes and music should be separate. It might not even be a good way to learn how to tie your shoes anyway — although, who knows, maybe the rhyming would help,” Flansburgh muses with a laugh. “It’s just not our bag. It might be good for somebody else, but we wanted to do something that was more about imagination and just a fun thing — a piece of entertainment for kids that works in the same way as an adult’s album works to entertain people.”
Not only have Flansburgh and Linell branched out by making a children’s record, but in recent years, they’ve also been writing music for film and television. They’ve composed theme and incidental music for Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, The Daily Show with John Stewart, Nightline Primetime’s Brave New World and, most notably, They Might Be Giants received a Grammy for “Boss of Me” from the TV sitcom Malcolm In the Middle. Now, the Johns themselves will be featured in a film about their career titled Gigantic (A Tale of Two Johns) (check out www.giganticfilm.com to see where and when you can catch the movie in your area). Shot over seven months in 2001, Gigantic tells the story of They Might Be Giants through live performances, animations and commentary from fans, friends and Flansburgh and Linell themselves, who, as Flansburgh tells it, were happy to take a backseat in this project, acting as the subjects of the film as the creative reigns belonged to the director, AJ Schnack.
“I think if it had been someone else, we probably would’ve said no, but AJ had an interesting take on it, and it didn’t seem like it was going to be too demanding on us,” says Flansburgh of how Gigantic came together. “We were the subjects of the film, but we weren’t involved in the editing or structuring of it. We saw the first frame of the film at the premier. It was really his gig.”
Flansburgh says that the project was a pleasure to be a part of, but it wasn’t always easy to be followed around by cameras. Though Flansburgh describes Schnack as casual and unobtrusive, it was hard to be completely at ease as long as the cameras were running.
“You do get used to it after a while, more or less,” Flansburgh says. “But I think you get used to it like you get used to being on stage. It’s not like it completely turns off in your mind that you’re being filmed, but you just acclimate yourself to it and it stops making you clam up.”
When asked if he felt more conscious about his actions as long as the cameras were running, Flansburgh answers candidly.
“Most of the places they were filming us, we were in semi-public places anyway,” Flansburgh says. “Being in a band, in some way, is not that different from running for the state house of representatives. You meet a lot of people that you’re only going to be with for a very short time, and you have to get something done while you’re with them, and then you move on. That’s most of the stuff that’s in the movie. There’s a lot of behind the scenes stuff, as to the way the band works, but that’s sort of public stuff in its own way. We work in public places, so there’s something inherently open about it anyway.”
Be it film or music, the variety of different projects and their indifference to passing fads and trends have been what has kept They Might Be Giants such a productive duo over the past 20-plus years. This may not be a unique accomplishment in the field of music, but the drive behind TMBG’s career is far from common. While Linell and Flansburgh continue to be able to get along and challenge each other creatively after two decades together, Flansburgh does admit that their partnership, much like the music it has produced, is more of an exception than the rule.
“There are a lot of bands that have been together for 20 years, but they’re not really active creative enterprises,” Flansburgh says in closing. “I wouldn’t even recommend being in a band for 20 years if it meant being on like an oldies circuit. Bands should seriously consider not doing that. I think of bands like The Clash — they totally stepped away right at the moment when they weren’t going to fuck it up. In some ways, they died young, and they stayed pretty, and that was fine. Every band has a different story, and I’m just grateful that ours has been so exceptional.”
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