Tag Archives: factory showroom

#1378: They Might Be Giants – Till My Head Falls Off

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‘Till My Head Falls Off’ is the second song on They Might Be Giants’ 1996 album, Factory Showroom. That album’s most known for being the band’s last on major label Elektra Records before they left quite acrimoniously and went on to make their own record label to release their material on. I got ’round to listening to the album myself in late 2010 or so, when I decided to properly get into They Might Be Giants’ big, big discography. Back then, ‘Till My Head Falls Off’ was another TMBG song that was high in the song ratings list on the band’s Wiki website. I heard it probably the once and understood why. Album opener, ‘S-E-X-X-Y’, was the only track to be released as a single. And it’s not like a song’s designation as a single is meant to signify its greatness or anything, but ‘…Head Falls Off’ seems like the very obvious single choice if you were to compare the two. Though maybe the band knew this and went with the more unconventional option, anyway.

After ‘S-E-X-X-Y’ begins things on a funky, ’70s-spy sitcom kind of deal, ‘Till My Head Falls Off’ arrives as the faster power-pop number. Emphasis on the word ‘power’. The track’s essentially a live take, with the two Johns and the band behind them going at full blast, and what we got was the last recording of the band going the fastest they could until the recording equipment couldn’t stands no more. The track concerns a neurotic narrator who, in the first verse, has a bit of a freak-out about some missing Advil tablets, and then wonders about their misplaced notes in the second. Despite their tendency to succumb to anxiety at times, look at themselves in the mirror and think about what they see, they seem to take great pride in the person that they are. The person’s gonna keep on going until the day they die, or till [their] head falls off, as John Linnell sings in the massive choruses. A song of self-assurance for the worriers out there. Sometimes I think Linnell may be singing about himself subliminally on how he’ll be doing this songwriting stuff until he’s gone. If that’s the case, makes it all the more endearing.

I guess another notable thing about Factory Showroom is that it was the first album of They done where the band had a second guitarist in the group. Alongside John Flansburgh now (then) was Eric Schermerhorn, in the role of lead guitarist. Flansburgh provides the anchoring rhythm in the left channel, while Schermerhorn gets the freedom in the right to provide some guitar feedback, those string bends during the choruses and the frantic guitar solo during the break. Here was the new band configuration at its rawest, and they were giving the goods thick and fast. Being the John Linnell composition it is, there’s melody abound, very memorable, easy to get stuck into your head even if the words he fits in them are arriving at a mile a minute, all culminating in those wide-open choruses where – you’ll see in the live video – he practically opens his jaw at its widest to deliver the jubilant high notes. It’s just another good They Might Be Giants song, I don’t know what else to say. I think we’ve reached the end here.

#1261: They Might Be Giants – Spiraling Shape

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And continuing talk about They Might Be Giants songs that leave me wanting more, today’s song is ‘Spiraling Shape’, the ninth song on the band’s Factory Showroom album from 1996. The track is almost four minutes longer than ‘Spine’. But when it reaches its end where everything cuts to sudden silence, I usually think “I could listen to that one again.” And I usually do. When I first came round to listen to Factory Showroom, in about 2010 or something, ‘Spiraling Shape’ appeared to be one that fans considered to be their best according to the Song Ratings list on the the band’s fan-run Wikipedia site. In the top 20, I want to say, even back then. I won’t say it was an immediate hit on the first listen. I was probably being a dumb hater. Usually was at 15. But then it was those listens that followed that got me thinking, “Yep. This song is a good one.” Something along those lines.

Another TMBG number written by John Linnell, the track is about a little thing known as a ‘fad’ – an intense and widely shared enthusiasm for something, especially one that is short-lived; a craze. Thank you, Google, for that definition. And in the case of the song, this enthusiasm is for the titular subject. People see this spiraling shape, immediately stop what they’re doing and are drawn in to this hypnotising presence that looms before them, like lambs to the slaughter. Perspectives from the people who haven’t yet experienced the shape but have heard what others have said about it, those who did but were left disillusioned by it, and those who know they could even come to harm by being allured by it are told. And the melodies utliised throughout are oh-so sweet. “The spiraling shape will make you go insaaaaaane”, Linnell sings. “Everyone wants to see that groovy thiiiiiiiing”, Flansburgh replies. There are some pitched-up Linnell harmonies that show up to in the midst of it all. You’ve gotta love it. I know I do.

The song actually has origins as early as 1992. In that year, They Might Be Giants made a demo for the song ‘Rocket Ship’. Quite the groovy number about travelling in a rocket ship that may or may not crash during its journey. Linnell switches up his vocal during the verses to make it sound more unusual than normal. But then suddenly out of nowhere, the chorus that would end up being used in ‘Spiraling Shape’ starts playing seemingly out of nowhere. Two somewhat disparate sections brought together to make a whole. Linnell recognised the greatness he had achieved with this section, reserving it for use at a later date. The parts making up the verses were never used again. Maybe they will be one day. It’s looking more likely that they won’t. But just goes to show that if a complete song doesn’t seem to work, as long as there’s one memorable part within it, you can always recycle it to make it its own thing some time in the future.

#835: They Might Be Giants – Metal Detector

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Here’s ‘Metal Detector’. Another song by They Might Be Giants, so soon after the last one. It’s found on their 1996 album Factory Showroom, their last on the Elektra label before they left and have sort of been an independent band ever since. I like Factory Showroom. I’ve always thought it was kind of a reaction to John Henry. That album’s almost an hour long and there’s a lot of horns and brass on it. I feel like Showroom put more of a focus on the band, and they dialled back the run time from 57 minutes to an easygoing 42. Only 13 songs on there too, which was peanuts compared to the number of songs They had on albums prior.

What I like most about ‘Metal Detector’ is that it’s essentially a song of choruses. There are only about two verses, even one and a half if you think about it. The rest is chorus, pre-chorus, kinda bridge over and over again. And it works, I don’t know what to tell you. The approach makes the song all the more memorable to me. It’s an easy one to sing along to, and the overall tone to its makes it seem like there’s some sort of mystery behind it. But it’s just a song about having a good time with a metal detector and going to the beach to find things under the sand. The group always have a knack for writing great songs about the most menial tasks. Or passionate hobbies, whichever way you want to look at it.

According to This Might Be a Wiki, this is quite a popular one among TMBG fans. It’s their 37th best song. The band haven’t ever played it live that much though. My guess would be that maybe the repetitive nature of the song just isn’t to the band’s liking, though that’s just a shot in the dark. Could have been a single for me. It’s nothing to think about too much.

My iPod #562: They Might Be Giants – I Can Hear You

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I can’t vividly describe the first time I heard ‘I Can Hear You’. There was no situation I found myself in life where the song was playing on the radio and felt a wave of emotion. It just happened when I listened to Factory Showroom in full in 2010 or so. I can’t remember how I felt about the song on that first listen, though revisits to it revealed another noteworthy gem of the group’s within their illustrious discography.

The performance of ‘I Can Hear You’ was recorded at the Edison Historic Site in New Jersey on wax cylinder alongside three other songs on 27th April 1996, explaining the low audio quality of the track. Its thin sound also makes it quite hard to decipher what instruments are being played on it. All these years I never thought there was a bass being played in it, yet close listening made it much clearer. It also has quite a simple yet punchy rhythm to it which makes it that much enjoyable to hear.

The lyrics are sets of dialogue from other low-quality transmissions that you may come across in daily life, whether it be from a passenger in a plane calling a close friend from the sky to those intercom towers you order your food from at a fast-food drive-through. There’s a sad feeling I get from this song, I can’t explain it. There’s something about the sound of it and its cyclical nature – the ‘chorus’ at the beginning of the song comes back around at the end – that sometimes gets to me. It’s far from being one of the band’s best songs. Though I enjoy it a lot. Good tune.

The band replicated the recording process of the song as part of a Millennium special of Jon Stewart’s Daily Show in 1999. This version is just as good, if not probably better, given some string flourishes that enhance its effect.

My iPod #346: They Might Be Giants – Exquisite Dead Guy

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“Exquisite Dead Guy” is a weird song. It’s weirdly mysterious and dramatic at the same time even though not a lot happens in it. The only overdubs present are those on Linnell’s voice, and apart from that there some cellos, a bass and drums for most of its duration. As a result the track sounds a bit empty, always feeling like something additional needs to be added. But I like it like that. Maybe that’s what attracted me to it.

There are some thories about the ‘exquisite dead guy’ in question being Jesus Christ, and the ascending ‘ba-da-ba’ vocal line is meant to represent Morse code. Those things go way over my head. The song is one ‘of admiration of a departed hero‘, so that’s what I’ll go ahead and see it as.

It’s quite the unconventional track. If the aforementioned ‘ba-da-ba’ scat vocals are the chorus, then those make up the majority of the two minutes the song lasts for. And when those stop Linnell, in a low register, sings about seeing this dead man wherever he goes. Things become surprisingly introspective during the middle part, but the song then returns to repeat the vocal line twice more before coming to an abrupt end.

On a side note, the ‘E’ section finishes tomorrow. Time has flown. What song is next? Wait and see.