Indestructible Object, They Might Be Giants

Pitchfork, April 18, 2004
by Stephen M. Deusner

7.1

"Installing and Servicing Melody Since 1982," reads the disc and back panel for They Might Be Giants' new EP, Indestructible Object. Hard to believe it's been that long. Across more than two decades, the duo-- Johns Flansburgh and Linnell-- have parlayed their silly sense of whimsy into a surprisingly bankable commodity, stretching what could have been merely a novelty act into an enviable career marked by consistent output and a highly loyal fanbase. Furthermore, they've quietly challenged the way pop music is created and disseminated through their Dial-a-Song project, their soundtrack to the 7th issue of the literary magazine McSweeney's, and their collaboration with Marcel Dzama on the children's book Bed Bed Bed. Even more impressive than this array of media, however, is the range of genres they've mastered and the ease with which they can flip through their musical Rolodex, find an interesting style, and introduce it into a song without seeming like dilettantes or stuntmen.

Indestructible Object is no great departure for the Giants, but it does provide a fitting illustration of their all-over-the-map approach to making music. The lead-off track, "Am I Awake?", with its logic-problem lyrics ("The coffee's cold/ Did I forget to drink it yet?"), floats by in a haze of drum loops that suggest a mildly existential Postal Service nodding off at work. "Memo to Human Resources" backs away from the laptop production even as it explores a similar theme of work- and world-weariness: "I'm busy taking stock of all the things I've forgot/ And making mental notes of just exactly where I lost the plot."

If these first two songs sound a little darker than the Giants' recent fare, then "Au Contraire" and "Ant" set things back in place. The former namedrops David Bowie (bonus points for calling him "Dave"), Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Jodie Foster, Johann Sebastian Bach, and Mahatma Gandhi. After a groovy flute solo by Doug Wieselman, it ends in a hearty round of "right on"'s straight out of a 1950s Beat club.

"Ant" begins like a children's song, with soft vocals and cartoonish lyrics about an ant crawling up your back and nestling in your ear while you're asleep. A tuba joins in on the second verse, oompah-ing a simple bassline. This, however, quickly morphs into a brass band playing "Hail to the Chief", then into the house band for Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In, and the song explodes into a brass-versus-synths freakout. As the horns run amok, the lyrics grow gradually more political, while the ant becomes president and sends men to "ransack your house in the nighttime." The conclusion is grim and somewhat accusatory-- "But you think that's okay while you're sleeping"-- but political dissent rarely sounds like so much fun.

Coming after the mayhem of "Ant", the Giants' faithful cover of the Beach Boys' "Caroline, No" sounds too staid and inconsequential. Brian Wilson's lament seems to rein in the very qualities that make the rest of Indestructible Object so charming and memorable: the play of musical ideas that mask, but never obscure, deep discontent, and the buried emotions that give shape to the musical experimentation. When allowed to wreak havoc, these tendencies continue to steer the band away from short-lived novelty and give their music meaning beyond the formal exercises. Right on.

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