They Might Be Giants
Mink Car
Restless

They Might Be Giants: Why do we still like these guys?

This isn't an accusatory statement. It's not meant to be insulting. But why maintain an active interest in two nasal white guys from Brooklyn who have been largely off-the-mark for the past five years?

Their last full-length release, Factory Showroom, was a short, unfocused flop, partially redeemed by a mind-blowing final track. John Linnell's inspired side project, State Songs dug deep into the pockets of geek, but essentially disappeared without a trace. The hard-rockin' riffs of John Flansburgh's project, Mono Puff, failed to find an audience. Unfortunately, geek chic can't compete with the wall of sound laid down by bona fide, hardcore rock stars.

And yet, the two Johns are still around. McSweeney's jams with them. TMBG created the antic, wholly appropriate theme song for "Malcolm in the Middle." And Conan O'Brien certainly digs their awkward white-guy antics.

Perhaps it's because some of us came of age listening to Flood and Apollo 18, suddenly realizing that it was possible to accept — and even embrace — our own awkward intelligence and wry fledgling wit. TMBG did (and does) pop music that warbles along happily while meditating on things like the sun's atomic composition, the nature of revenge from beyond the grave, various sorts of mammals and the concept of murdering your mom. Good stuff.

But how much of it do we need? Ideally, you only come of age once. And so the New Wavey drum-machine stuff that marked TMBG's early days faded into the horn-based instrumental power of John Henry, only to get lost in the schizophonic haze of the band's later efforts, which petered out into the deep disappointment of Factory Showroom. It's almost as though learning instruments was a mistake — there was a whole wide world of music to explore, and They got lost in it.

Which brings us to Mink Car, TMBG's latest effort. One thing is clear: The guys still have a sense of humor, and they can still play. Tracks like "Man, It's So Loud in Here" and "My Man" boast melodies as pure and cool as anything in pop's pantheon. TMBG fans can't miss with this disc; everything's listenable, and a number of tracks are standouts.

But while "Mink Car" brings fresh energy to the TMBG crusade, it also lacks something critical: a unified direction. On "Mr. Excitement," they're rappin' around with M. Doughty of Soul Coughing fame. On "I've Got a Fang," they're cribbing Morphine's roaring horns, bass and drums thing. On "Drink!" they're going for a modern sea-chanty. And on "Wicked Little Critta," they're out of the musical universe as we understand it.

It's on "Wicked Little Critta" that TMBG really hits the mark. A nutty pastiche of Boston slang slung together into a nonsensical narrative, "Wicked Little Critta" boasts a dizzyingly sweet melodic passage bracketed by two halves of a spoken-word performance — the song feels strange, but it's terrific.

But it's also emblematic of TMBG's current problems. The band keeps innovating and fooling around with different styles of music at a time when it should be pushing toward albums with strong, distinctive sounds and coherent themes. John Henry was a sign that the band was maturing — it made a clear tilt toward acoustic instruments, somewhat darker themes and walls of horns. But subsequent albums, including Mink Car, have lacked that sort of definition.

The members of TMBG are good musicians. They're creative thinkers, witty lyricists, and they're universally hailed as great guys. But lately, they haven't been organized. Mink Car's energy and fun are undeniable, and quite a few of the tracks are worth playing loud. But until TMBG rallies its sound around a few carefully selected acoustic landmarks, its quest for definition will need to continue.

— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)