3.23.2012

A review of They Might Be Giants at Terminal 5, March 10th, 2012

Better late than shut the fuck up and read my review.
Saturday, March 10th marked the end of They Might Be Gants' Join Us tour and their last (real) show until December 2012, and they made it count as such.
Although I and the lovely Christina arrived three hours before doors to attain the best possible placement at Terminal 5, we were among about twenty fifth and sixth in line, respectively.
It was at that point I realized that I'm not as obsessed with They might Be giants as some people think I am...Will.
I also realized that a lot of these people really creep me out and, afterwards, Chris and I had a long discussion about these aspects.
But I won't bore you.
Eventually, we were joined by the Ultimate Tag Team: Jim Potenza and Jen Chua.
We had as good a time one can have in 40 degree weather and, eventually, were allowed in.
Jim and Jen were sent to the rooftop holding area, while Chris and I waited to obtain my special TMBG Instant Fan Club tickets to the show.
Because of a ridiculous lack of communication between the band's people and the venue (with more blame focused on the venue since I've seen this kind of thing work smoother at Madison Square Garden and Terminal 5 is NOT Madison Square Garden) the IFC members were asked to go BACK outside until our names appeared on a list.
While waiting to die slowly of exposure, Sylvia and Bryan showed up and, after a moment of discussion, went inside...the lucky ass bags.
About ten minutes before the normal people were allowed in, the IFC folks got their tickets, special goodie bags (a half-assed t-shirt "designed" by the band's current favorite minimalist graphic designer, Paul Sahre-- think heavily-outlined, day-glo objects placed on a white background and you've got this guy's "style" down pat, MORE window decals and a hand drawn "Certificate of Thanks" for being a member, signed by both Johns, obviously the winner of the bunch) and entrance to the venue.
I am happy to report that we were dead center, on the rail, my favorite place to be at a They Might Be Giants concert.
There was much waiting to be done, but, at some point, Jonathan Coulton hit the stage.
His set was, for the most part, enjoyable and his band totally brought it, playing "Code Monkey", "Still Alive (not as good without GladOS), "Re: Your Brains" and "I Feel Fantastic" as well as "Now I Am An Arsonist" with Suzanne Vega (1).

After a relatively quick set change, TMBG took the stage, opening with "Birdhouse In Your Soul", one of their standards that has yet to get old (for me, at least. Flans once commented in an interview that "if you severed the band members' heads from their bodies, we would still be able to play "Birdhouse"...we're saving that for our final show").
I'm happy to say that I pogoed for the majority of the song, much to the annoyance of the tiny girl to my right, but, seriously, fuck her, if this had been a Nine Inch Nails concert she would have been sliced open and served like smoked salmon where she was.
Then, "Cowtown", the first song Flansburgh and Linnell wrote together, another treat.
Other highlights included a new rendition of "Particle Man" which I'd never heard before and enjoyed immensely (I always marvel at the ways TMBG finds to keep these songs they've been playing for decades sounding fresh), "Snowball In Hell" (which featured an excellent spoken segment performed by the Avatars of They), "Ana Ng", "Don't Let's Start" (always a pleasure), "New York City" (I've probably seen them perform this song fifty times, but not for a few years and it always makes me happy to hear it), "When Will You Die?" (a new song that I hope grows into a live staple...did I already say that?) and just John and John (with an accordion) singing "How Can I Sing Like A Girl?".
Only two flaws on an otherwise perfect gem of an evening were fucking goddamn "Damn Good Times" and the starting-to-get-old show closer "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)".
I can think of, literally forty other TMBG songs I'd rather have in place of the former and about a dozen closers to replace the latter.
I also want them to start doing Factory Showroom shows and John Henry shows...with a FULL horn section, not just Mark "Smugman" Pender.
Anyway, yeah, amazing show; miles better than their lackluster 30th anniversary show back in January.
They're taking a working break as far as touring until December when they plan to do some "holiday shows", so I guess I'll be there, and they have a new album they are currently working on slated for an early 2013 release.
Once again, They Might Be Giants have delivered on the live front, no questions asked.

A Mini-Review of Madonna's "MDNA"

So, the E-starved twink buried deep within me (helllooo) had an urge to hear the new Madonna album.

I heard that single and, as much as it made me want to destroy my radio and every device capable of broadcasting said single in a ten miles radius, it was catchy as all get out.

So I listened to the new Madonna album, MDNA, which I thought might have something to do with genetics, but apparently not.

Listening to the new Madonna album can be equated to eating a huge bag of Jolly Ranchers and glitter, then vomiting, then listening to said sparkling, rainbow-colored effluvia while in a club. Her lyrics here reflect nothing of her 12,000 years of pop queendom. In fact, if Britney Spears had recorded and released this album ten years ago, it might have been ground-breaking, but in Madonna’s case…it’s almost like she recalls nothing of her career, it’s like she’s starting over; not in a good or fresh way, on the contrary, it sounds laughably naïve.

This album has depth like a mosquito bite: you scratch it, it feels good in a bad way, then it gets infected and scabby. There are one or two interesting moments on here (“Falling Free” and “I Fucked Up”) and you can not deny the contagious (like the Motaba virus) nature of “Give Me All Your Loving” (I’ll not rape the English language on your behalf, you craggy bint), but I couldn’t help feeling a sense of annoyance while listening to this, as if I were be put upon somehow.

At the end of one of the two songs that grunty, spazzy rapper Nicki Minaj guest stars on, she informs the listener that “there is only one queen” and that “it’s Madonna…bitch.” That last word is almost spat between her gritted teeth, not sounding emphatic here, like a statement of fact,…only desperate, as if saying it loudly and angrily enough will make it so…but it won’t. And neither will removing letters from your name.