Since their formation in 1982, the prolific Grammy Award-winning duo of John Linnell and John Flansburgh—collectively known as They Might Be Giants—has proven to be one of pop music’s most unlikely success stories. Eclectic, eccentric and uncompromising, the legendary New York City-based band has the distinction of being perhaps the only group as beloved by fans of Dora The Explorer as by fans of The Residents. I spoke with Linnell ahead of the band’s return to the Pabst Theater on Thursday, March 5.
They Might Be Giants released an internet-only album in 1999, created a streaming radio service in 2003 and had its own podcast in 2005. Would you say the band has always been early adopters of technology?
I think we were more like “get-alongers.” We’re willing to try out anything. One of our not-very-secret weapons is that John [Flansburgh] went to art school and was interested in all kinds of media, so he’s very good at thinking of ways of packaging projects in ways that are engaging and out of the ordinary. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, while we are not as nerdy as people think, we are perfectly comfortable trying out new things.
I’m glad you aren’t superstitious about playing Milwaukee, given that our very own Modjeska Theater was the site of an infamous stage collapse during a They Might Be Giants concert in 1992.
We were very lucky because there were probably children of lawyers in the audience who were standing on that stage when it collapsed, and we didn’t receive a single lawsuit from that, which was just a miracle. John went and visited the hospital where some of the people had gone to get their injuries checked out, and while he was being considerate and thoughtful, I was cowering in terror about the potential consequences. It’s your worst nightmare, something like that.
You revealed in a 2018 interview with Talks at Google that the band has provided commercial music for Dr. Pepper and Dunkin’ Donuts, among others. Does the kind of built-in anonymity of doing commercial work change the way you approach the process?
Each one is different. There are some, like the Dunkin’ Donuts commercial, where they specifically want us to be ourselves, which was a delightful invitation because that’s the thing we’re best at. There are other things that are entirely mercenary, where we are asked to do something that doesn’t sound anything like the thing that we’re known for, and it’s almost like a stunt for us to come up with something. “The Daily Show” theme was kinda like that: We were trying to sound like news music and trying to sound as official and straight as possible. There's nothing funny or interesting from an indie rock perspective about news music.
Your partnership with John Flansburgh has lasted more than many marriages. To what do you owe the longevity of this relationship?
I don’t have anything to compare it to, except my actual marriage, which has also lasted quite a long time. It’s a process of compromising and finding ways to keep everything alive and being continuously thoughtful and considerate of the other person. And then, of course, there’s all the resentment and irritation; those are normal things. John and I just like working together. We weren’t really sure what the hell it was going to be when we started, so everything that happened was sort of a surprise. It continues to be interesting, so we haven’t really found a reason to stop doing it.
For a pop group, your music has always dealt pretty unflinchingly with harsh truths about life. Did you find when you were writing music for children that you had to consciously check some of this existential woe at the door?
Yes, but not all of it. There’s still a sense of tension in the songs in that they present problems that may or may not be solvable. You can’t just make all the edges rounded. People have an impulse to make everything as safe as possible for kids. That can really ruin a good idea.