One Hundred Henries: Bloggin' M'Noggin

And He Flew

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 02:08:00 GMT

Why haven't I gotten to this sooner? Why am I not documenting this? I mean, this is a major life event, people. Screw moving from San Diego, CA, to Madison, WI, with nil amount of preparation, or getting into a possibility-of-being-fatal car crash. No, no.

     I freaking saw Andrew Bird.
     Try as I might to quell my squealing, there has to be some gushing. The man is just an utter genius of sound, articulation, set, and atmosphere. I had my ticket and as I walked into the cavernous space that is the Overture Theater on State Street in downtown Madison, WI, on September 19, 2009 (thank god for run-ons), and was instantly...wowed. I've heard mighty much of Bird's particular stage set-up, but it was kind of cool in person. Yeah, kinda cool. Try mega friggin awesome. Huge phonographs that manipulate and emulate some universal sound that I'm sworn I've only ever heard Bird produce, yet the feeling it instills in me is as natural as, well, breathing. And I swear that's no cliche.
     The opening band for Andrew Bird was a band I've heard of before, but never knew to be homegrown Madison folks - Pale Young Gentlemen. (Listen to their cover of M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes" here - you know the song.) PYG, kind of reminiscent of Franz Ferdinand, Coldplay, and the Bird himself, played for only 30-minutes with a set-up of violin, cello, and the basic - guitar, bass, and drums. Their song, "Clap Your Hands" sounds like it would fit in perhaps a little too well with Bird's Bowl of Fire album.


     However, I do approve.
     So, however odd it was for them to only play for 30-minutes, it meant less time to wait for the man himself, and I accepted graciously. As the lights dimmed down again, Andrew Bird walked on stage and took off his shoes and proceeded to play. And play.
     Where the hell did this man come from?
     Chicago, honestly - and his folks were even in the audience, so I looked to the couple next to me and wondered...could they have been the ones to birth this wonder?
     As I'm writing this a few weeks after the face, the details are slightly skewed and my pictures are more than slightly blurry...

(Check out the rest of my Facebook photo album of the Overture Center and the Andrew Bird show here!)
     And as this is a, if anything, mediocre blog of a 19-year old girl, I feel that I can post the Andrew Bird setlist with no issue or specific construct whatsoever (it was a good 'un):

"Sweetmatter"
"The Waterjet Cilice"
"Masterswarm"
"Opposite Day"
"Fitz and the Dizzy Spells"
"Plasticities"
"Natural Disaster"
"Oh No"
"Effigy"
"Anonanimal"
"Tenuousness"
"Imitosis" (My personal fave. Even developed a strip to this.)
"Lusitania" (New song with a cool fact. Bird's been waiting for years to use Lusitania in a song. Go figure.)
"Fake Palindromes"
"Why?" (Encore)
"Don't Be Scared" (Encore)
"Weather Systems"

This is a video of "Don't Be Scared" performed at the Orpheum in Los Angeles, CA, just to give you an idea of Bird's performance live. It speaks volumes more than the album version.

The ending was powerful, poignant with the phonographs still spinning an ethereal sound... He took his shoes and his signature stuffed monkey that sits atop the speaker, and in a way much like Porky the Pig, Andre Bird said, "That's it." A simple ending for the man with music as natural as breath.

Happy Should Be Happening

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 05:19:00 GMT

     As the Blogosphere tells me, the last time I made a post to this ten-dollar website was 186 days ago. One-hundred-and-eighty-six days, just over half a year. Six months, maybe. So much the difference. Where was I? Where am I? I was in Shippensburg, and I loved it there for my duration, but now I'm beating the path of my mother and jumping dinghy when things get stinky. I'm in San Diego, CA, now where happy happens and I flick a light and swing my hips to its motto. I'm still looking for happiness, despite dragging myself down everyday. Still do, yeah. Working on it.
     Because I don't believe anyone reads this and I don't know why I do this to myself and maybe this is some kind of reaching out or just the side-effects of watching Six Feet Under for a straight month, but I've been thinking of that ever elusive death ever so lately. I kind of want it, but I don't see where it will bring any satisfaction for me. Satisfaction. I've been hearing that a lot lately, and I can't get no. Dun na na na.
     I'm trying to be happy. No. Really. Check my pulse. Could I be lying? Isn't that the goal, self-actualization? I don't know where I am most times and I'm actually afraid. I'm nervous, I'm paranoid. I was comfortable in PA, being a moron in front of what would be friends, but now I'm somewhere where people could care, but I don't trust them to. It's awfully backwards for me. I know PA People do not care, at least the ones I was in cahoots with. CA People could care, but I'm just not allowing myself to see it. I'm stuck in a rut of allowing myself to feel and interpret all the criticism placed on me and I feel guilty for it. I feel guilty for even mentioning it. It's even surreal to be posting it. And I'm doubting anyone's remotely interesting in reading it. In reading me. I don't feel like a physical being anymore. I feel more like a fabled fly on the wall. Why am I staring at you, Boyo? Because I'm observing. I'm in awe. And I don't feel like I'm really there. You're a movie and you're unbelievable. Why can't I make decisions? Because it's not my right. I don't think I even chose to come here. I was drawn here. I mean, where else was I to go?
     A year ago, I felt reborn. I felt like a person, a little freer, and, hey, I felt a little more attached to reality then. Things were looking up. And suddenly I'm down again. I put myself here, I know. I mean, I'm in California. That should make me happy. Why am I so damn ungrateful? Why am I so incapable of being happy?
     I'm working on it. I'm working on it. I really want to be working on it, but I don't feel like there's anyone there to back me up. Maybe I'm not seeing compliments, or remembering them. I have a mental block. I feel like my mind is at war with me. Okay, I understand why they don't love me. I really do not love myself, it's alway wreaking havoc on the real me (I don't know that one for sure yet), and I shouldn't demand people to love the unlovable. I'm really unlovable. I'm really unmemorable.
     My friend of five years and who I lived with for one can't remember how to spell my name.
     My mother thinks I have blue eyes, when I have green.
     The dangerous, me-on-the-brink issue... Well, I can't talk about it. I just want it so bad. I really want it so bad.
     I want to know what's in my way. I want to know how to kill that side of me who is always kamikazin' my good parts, who drives those little filthy missiles of self-loathing when I'm only trying to have a good time here, as long as I'm here. I don't want to do the thing that will kill that nasty part, but it'd be so much easier than putting up with the thoughts, the same thoughts that I've been having for thirteen years. I'm nineteen, for god's sake.

What I Know

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 14:07:00 GMT

        As I went to cyber-school for the last two years of my high school existence, I missed out on the rapid fire of MLA format, persuasive essays, and notations that in junior high seemed all too force fed. Realizing that I was fiercely unprepared for college, my defense mechanism to act instinctively—or to pretend I knew what I was doing, when I so obviously knew that I didn’t. When I feel the need to write (or I want to), I go with ye olde cliché “write what you know”—with a twist. I think of myself as an empathetic person, so I found this formula of “knowing what the heck I’m talking about” easy. To become the character, the emotionally person involved or narrator, you gotta be the character. You’re square, you’re there and it’s simple after that. Though my teachers of the past have not been pleased, I blend my speaking voice with my creative writing style to reflect on my professional one. I feel that in order to be a writer—good, bad, or ugly—you must be, to some infinitesimal point, a solipsist. You must believe you’re the only one in the galaxy who will touch this page. The writer must be true to her beliefs, ideas, and fancies and none too excited about persuading someone else, yet she must persuade herself of what is going on. If it is truly believed by the writer then the words drum out naturally.

        My writing more than reflects a creative tendency, but a wayward lifestyle, as well. I have lived under multiple roofs, and I feel that I have lived someone else’s life each year. Of course, I would love to stay in one spot and evolve. Yet without knowing what it is like to be left to my own devices or kicked out, I would have no material as a writer. I am an adult now and it’s time to create my own existence instead of growing into the opportunity of blame placed before me. Often my inner voice speaks to me from age six to nine, when things had felt connected and nothing could be construed as possibly more exciting than Scholastic Bookstore Day. I feel this is my objective voice and who I truly used to be. Nowadays I feel that I am just acting out a role; the bohemian, the daughter, the college kid.

        For only being at college for a week, I must say that if I ever knew who I was, I was cruelly, disconcertingly wrong. Before I stepped on campus permanently, I was convinced by others that I was immovably dependent, sentimental, and inhibited. Since I have moved out of my father’s house a year ago, I have made great headway in becoming better in those respects. Well, I was sure that I was. Whereas I had been obese, lazy, and uninspired, I became obsessed with challenging myself. I lost forty pounds, took up accordion, wrote and self-published a book, and produced and hosted an online radio show. I could not recognize myself then, and I cannot recognize myself now. I now walk freely across campus without a giggling mass in tow and have no reservations about eating a Caesar salad by myself underneath a tree in full view. I wrote a whimsical essay comparing Edwin A. Abbott’s Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions to They Might Be Giants’ song “Particle Man” for no reason. If I do feel the need to hang out, I have ten platonic guys’ numbers in line who do not become emotionally or physically attached. Unlike the other girls in my residence hall, I do not miss home, wherever it is or will be, and so far I find that I am at the happiest in my life.

Through Flatland to Particle Man: An Exposé

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 14:36:00 GMT

    What tide of emotion would Edwin A. Abbott feel if he were suddenly transported to our four-dimensional world, and heard the anonymity of his life’s most memorable work, abridged into song? At their height in the early Nineties, They Might Be Giants wrote the enigmatic “Particle Man”, and the song instantly became their pièce de résistance. Yet nearly one hundred years ahead of Them, Abbott wrote Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, venturing into a realm outside of what was expected from an English schoolmaster. He created a two dimensional parallel universe that served as a source of one the greatest satires of theology and geometry of its time, continuing to today. They Might Be Giants, a rock band that prides itself on an outside view of the world could readily adopt such an angle and create a song that emanates Abbott’s timeless characters.

    In Flatland, a classist society, irregularity is considered the worst offense; an embroidered scrutiny of Abbott’s Victorian society. Coming to terms with imperfection, our time is widely appreciative of human nature, its quirks and humdrums. This is They Might Be Giants’ John Linnell and John Flansburgh’s feeding ground. Like Edwin A. Abbott, They Might Be Giants speak directly to the audience, yet yield for flattering, even outlandish interpretation. Abbott’s Flatland offers a vast base for analysis. The narrator speaks of an complex social structure and humanity’s narrow understanding of the divine, a clear satire of Victorian English society. Echoing this formula in many of their songs, They Might Be Giants emancipates a view of aesthetic proportions, spanning historical, religious, and political commentary, though well veiled behind witticisms and deadpan absurdity. In “Particle Man” we find a similar voice with A. Square, Flatland’s narrator.

    Besides the naturally applied “unreliable narrator” in their lyrics, They Might Be Giants tell fantastical stories through the music they generate, frequently erupting from the unconscious with seemingly silly notions. However, in their work there are often allusions to other more well-known musicians and obscure celebrities, as well as science, zoology, and, yes, literature. In their song, “I Should Be Allowed to Think”, the lyrics begin with “I saw the best minds of my generation / destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical.” This is the opening line to Allen Ginsberg’s epic poem “Howl”, given to the band with permission. In other songs, the Johns name famous Greek allegories (“No One Knows My Plan”), books written by renowned chess players (“Rest Awhile”), and have reported inspiration from attending poetry readings (“I Palindrome I”). Most notably of their collection is the origin of They Might Be Giants’ name, a distant tribute to Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, where the main character Don Quixote is convinced that neighboring windmills “might be giants.” To know They Might Be Giants’ repertoire is to understand the characters they emanate in their relation to Flatland.

    While They Might Be Giants songs are extremely difficult to interpret and often have no intended meaning, “Particle Man” and Flatland’s characters show a relationship. “Particle Man” begins just after the start of Flatland’s new millennium, where in a vision A. Square is taken by his savior, the Sphere to the Land of No Dimensions. In this Pointland, they observe the ongoing chatter between the King and himself, truly only “doing the things a particle can.” The song goes on to sing “What’s he like? It’s not important,” which solidifies the King of Pointland’s ignorance to the other dimensions, yet the self-content in his solipsism.

    “Is he a dot, or is he a speck?” A. Square is trying to understand how this speck of a Being who cannot distinguish himself from the world, can possible go on in life not wondering of things far greater than his own existence. So is he a dot; a regular figure though infinitesimally small? Or is he a speck and not worth saving? The song begs the question: “When he’s underwater does he get wet? Or does the water get him instead?” Since “[the King of Pointland] is himself his One and All, being really Nothing” (pg. 75) is he truly influenced by things, or does he perhaps do the influencing? Alas, “nobody knows” except the King of Pointland.

    The next verse brings Triangle Man into the arena, quite literally. “Triangle Man hates Particle Man” because Triangle Man, Flatland’s proletariat, refuses to believe in any dimension but its own. Flatland is operated by a high society of many-sided officials, called “Circles” who push this belief though readily admitting amongst themselves (and before the condemned) that they are aware of, at least, one other dimension. Anyone who pushes against the issue is either executed or imprisoned, depending on the rank of their sides. The isosceles and equilateral triangles are tradesmen, ill-informed teachers, or worse, they are policemen. Their expendability depends on the size of their angles. As they are uneducated, they follow the Circles blindly. They are the major force behind them and for Flatland’s denizens, belief in a lesser dimension is one thing, but a Third Dimension is the end of the line.

    Universe Man, or the Sphere, carries his own force. He seeks a disciple in A. Square and brings him to his 3-D world. From where he stands in Spaceland, A. Square can only comprehend that he is at eye-level with a god. This “omnividence” makes the Sphere the “size of the entire universe, man.” The Sphere rebuts this. He is “usually kind to smaller man,” so generously imparts his knowledge on A. Square who is at first not an eager student, but as he is absorbed into a completely different outlook of the universe, he becomes overeager and insists on farther dimensions than the Sphere’s Third. For his impertinence, the Sphere casts A. Square out of Spaceland. The Sphere is on the clock. He must have a disciple this millennium or try again in another thousand years. He is sure that when the time comes, and everyone is enlightened by the higher dimension(s), then it will be “a happy land.” The Sphere apologizes in a dream and that is when he takes A. Square to Pointland.

    “Hit on the head with a frying pan,” A. Square is left with new, startling knowledge and the difficult task of converting a pupil to the Gospel of Three Dimensions. It is disastrous in Flatland to speak of any dimension but the second. After failing to convince his usually reasonable grandson, he becomes desperate and blurts out in front of a meeting of his fellows that he has seen the Third Dimension. He is at once arrested, trialed before the Council, and must live the rest of his life “in a garbage can.” Without the Third Dimension, A. Square is distressed, saying, “All pleasures palled upon me; all sights tantalized and tempted me to outspoken treason, because I could not but compare what I saw in Two Dimensions with what it really was if seen in Three, and could hardly refrain from making my comparisons aloud.” (pg. 80) The narrator feels worthless, finally failing to convince his brother, who was put in jail when he witnessed the Sphere descending upon a crowd. A. Square has not produced a single student, and has degraded himself to his countrymen. “Who came up with Person Man?” Why was the millennial Revelation made to him? The Flatland society has only succeeded in putting down another subsidiary.

    “Triangle Man wins,” but is it really Triangle Man? The question has reverberated in concert halls and specially tailored wikis for years. The Johns had this to say: “We pretty much write these songs and let other people figure them out. I remember one thing that went into [“Particle Man”] was that we were watching Night of the Hunter or something on TV and somebody commented that Robert Mitchum reminded them of a triangle. Something about his body type. He seemed like this kind of evil triangle.” The Night of the Hunter holds the unrefined, yet loose basics of Flatland. There is a religious backdrop where Mitchum’s character is a preacher who preys on rich widows then kills them, helping God with doing away with women who tempt men’s carnal instincts. The preacher feels that he has a special mission handed to him by God, like A. Square’s obligation to enlighten his peers. The preacher’s contempt of women correlates to Flatland’s general philosophy of women. At face value, the book and the movie are contrary, but from the wayside we can see the disquieting parallels.

    However, They Might Be Giants fans have been trying to interpret the band’s work for years. John Flansburgh, guitarist, told PopCultureCorn.com in 1998 “I think ‘Particle Man’ is probably the song that people talk about the most, and yet has the least to offer. Basically it's just a song about characters in the most obvious sense. They're not real people; it's not Animal Farm.” Not Animal Farm, maybe, but Flatland? In contrast, George Orwell’s Animal Farm satirized Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Adolf Hitler, and others in authoritarian government. Flatland does not take on the roles of specific people in Edwin A. Abbott’s 1800s world, but points to the social hierarchy of Victorian culture, which in effect “Particle Man” does with the battering levels at which Triangle Man must dominate and Universe Man’s strong need to inform.

    To believe in this interpretation of Flatland, we must think “Upward, not Northward” like A. Square. Although They Might Be Giants admits that their songs should be taken at face value, fans continue to work together to puzzle on the unconscious depth to their work. Abbott’s epic characters are revived in They Might Be Giants’ “Particle Man” whether purposefully or not. Their characters refine the characters that came before them, and beg for definition. Like a two dimensional view, a simple song may contain hidden layers of higher meaning that brings us round and round again.

They Might Be Giants performing "Particle Man" at the Chameleon Club

Flatland: The Movie (2007)

Arts Alive Magic!

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Tue, 20 May 2008 04:41:00 GMT

Let's see. We got one crazy boy named Sparkle, a squeeze box, a Henry, and a second floor of a high school.

How can we make this better?

And just because it matters:

Henry Appears for Interview on 91.3 FM WYEP

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Fri, 09 May 2008 12:01:00 GMT

    In Pittsburgh, there is a station where accordions are okay to huff out melodies, where artists are artistes, where National Public Radio is revered, and where listeners are producers. This station is WYEP. And I was totally on it this morning.

    Cindy Howes, host of the Morning Mix on WYEP keeps a segment every Friday named "My Fifteen Minutes" (an awesome allusion to Andy Warhol - Pittsburgh grown). I saw it on the website and thought it'd be pretty darn awesome to throw my set out there to the world. A little mix of They Might Be Giants, A Fine Frenzy, and Andrew Bird should suffice.

    A few days later I receive an email from Cindy saying that she'd like to interview me for Guest DJ for the next Friday.

    Being a radio supa-freak as I am - I squealed and sent my approval.

    This, as 7:15 AM, my friends, is the result:

    Dreaming is reality, folks.

    And remember.

    STAY POSITIVE, PEOPLE!


    Henry

What Henry Does On Her Day Off

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Mon, 05 May 2008 23:26:00 GMT

What-Henry-Does-On-Her-Day-Off-1 - Get Video Code

Scaling the Clef's (New) Face: A User's Guide

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 17:04:00 GMT

    As it is becoming more apparent, the world of online radio is residing in its own universe. It has evolved massively, yet now faces overpopulation, depressions, climate changes, and, yes, fuel emissions. Recently, Clef Hangers: Hangin' with Adam & Henry faced resignation of government (and, reflexively, a new declaration of title).

    Introducing the new and flexible face of Clef Hangers!

    We could be starring anybody!

    So we salute Adam in ventures in San Diego, and welcome Kodai Susumu (or, simply, Kirk) to the table! We still have the same influx of accordion and acoustic melodies, as well as the same callers and writers week after week, but with somewhat of an infused core of hard rock and catchy sayings! We're still on every damn Tuesday night at 9PM EST, so join the Two for Tuesday joy of the Cult Vault by visiting Tryst: Your Musical Rendevous before Clef Hangers rides their coattails to pure inhibited BlogTalkRadio surrealism!

    Henry (that would be I) will be off next Tuesday, April 22nd, for a Flor'da vacation. If by luck she (I) won't be eaten by a croc-a-dilly then expect her back the 29th! In meantime, enjoy Clef Hangers: Hangin' with Kodai & Joo!

    You've all been a joy, fellas! Keep a-Vaultin'!

    Henry

    SAHeistand.com is your only source for the semi-truthful story (but only because we didn't return the New York Times' calls).
     So come back all the time.
     I need things to do.

Clef Hangers Public Service Announcement

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 18:16:00 GMT

    Dear Sir (or Person),
    Dear Elusive Listener,
    Dear Heady Target,
    Fondest Guest,

    We love you. We can't thank you enough for Clef Hanger's firstsecondthird chance at Featuredom! Join us tonight and reap the benefits of your effort to make us awesomer than we could ever possibly contribute!

    Hear what your peers are jing-a-jangling.
    Hear what your hosts are listening to.
    Hear the intent of your soul.

    Oh yes, we have the power. Thank you.

    The party's every Tuesday. At 9 o'clock if you live on the east coast with me and 8 if you're Adam's neighbor.

    (Fun Fact!: Adam Greenfield, esq's a homegrown Iowan. So that probably means the next farm over.)
    (In Wisconsin.)
    (Incidentally, where the producer lives.)
    (We Hangers are a rural people.)

    Tonight we have a VERY SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT.
    Tonight we have LOADS OF COOLCOOLCOOL MUZAK.
    Tonight we have THE LINES OPEN TO YOUR DISPOSAL.

    Tonight we await you.

    Alright, kids. You know the contract.

    Luffink-Joo!,

        The Henry Half

    (PS!: We're over here!)

    (PSS!: If by any lame excuse you cannot attend this epic segment, please feel all the power in the world to subscribe to us on iTunes - oh it's so cool.)

    (PSSS.: Due to remarkable new research, Adam is not originally from Iowa! However, he will be moving to San Francisco in a few months. The man resides no where. He could be Carmen Sandiego, but we don't have the records.)

This Might Not Just Be For Your Midgets

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Sat, 16 Feb 2008 05:45:00 GMT

    "Here Come the 1-2-Whadda-Wah?"

    Intrigued, are you?

    They Might Be Giants, if they haven't already proved themselves to be, are constructed of two lifelong front men John Flansburgh (guitar) and John Linnell (squeeze box, keyboards), joined by Marty Beller (drums), Danny Weinkauf (bass), and Dan Miller (guitar, keyboards). Every time you see them--excuse me, Them, expect something different and cherish the moment, because you'll never have that same taste again. But also be delighted to know that you'll be getting something better than the last time--oh, and do try to believe. It is possible. Here Come the 123s is Their third children's album, and Their thirteenth studio album to date--The Else being Their twelfth. (Read my review of The Else here.)

    Like its prequels (No!, Here Come the ABCs), Here Come the 123s is a highly audio-visual effort. Your DVD portion is illustrated by such classy people as the Brothers Chaps (you'll thank them for Homestar Runner), Divya Srinivasan (who has worked with TMBG previously on Their Venue Songs project), and Hine Mizushima (a fan to rival you and me!). Not only an assortment of designers, but it seems every T-M-B-G member dipped Their callused finger into the pot... As per usual, the Johns make up the meat of the project, but what of the Two Band Dan and Marty? And what about those fabled Velcro Horns? And what, what of family members?

    Let's be honest. This album incorporates all deities of the They-iverse.

Dan Miller sings all out in lucky track seventeen in "Infinity".
Danny Weinkauf wrote "Number Two" (and I strongly suspect that it's him singing).
Marty Beller puts the BeeGee in TMBG--see "High Five!".
Dan Levine and Mark Pender horn it up in "High Five" and "Seven Days of the Week (I Never Go to Work)".

Mr. Levine's niece, Hannah (11) is quite the songstress. She is a highlight on this album, sometimes even outshining T-M-B-G in "Zeroes", "High Five!", "One Dozen Monkeys", "I Can Add", and "Ooh La! Ooh La!". She's a pro.

Robin "Goldie" Goldwasser, Flansy's supa-cool wife not only grabs you soothingly by the throat in "The Secret Life of Six" and "Ten Mississippi", but creates the John-John puppet duo and the Deeply Felt Puppet Theatre. This woman is amazing. No joke.
Henry "Best Name Ever" Linnell in a duet of sorts with Papa Linnell in "Seven". Collectively now--AWWWW.

    This album retains every little thing you love about the Giants, so don't give up. These guys may say They're old and losing Their hair, but the Johns are backed by people that will always keep Them young, attention-getting, but always blemish-free.

    I hereby give this album three point four asterisks.

    { * * * .4}



     Track 01 : "Here Come the 123s!" { * * * }

        "They Might Be Giantsss...Here come the 123sss..."

        A little different, a little more sentimental than the poppy, whirly-bird
"Here Come the ABCs" theme. Plus - Linnell? Solo? Whadda-Wah?

    Track 02 : "Zeroes" { * * * * }

        "Zeroes. (zeroes) Zeroes mean so much."

        This song certainly invokes something, I just can't name it. Zeroes,
by all means should mean nothing--but they do, buttheydon't, but oh how
they do. (And Flansy will elegantly tie this to your brain all day.)

    Track 03 : "One Everything" { * * * }

        "And if you go out and count up everything - it'll add up to one."

        Linnell's warm voice will really thrum your heart strings. This song
is perfect for kids who question everything. In fact, every Linnell song it
seems will call up something in your child to think about their surrounding
omniverse.

    Track 04 : "Number Two" { * * * * }

        "All over the world, you know that it's true, I'm always around, y'know I'm
the Number Two."

        This song was written by Danny Weinkauf and I remain convinced
that it is Mr. Red Pants himself singing (through the side of his mouth--
kyoot!). It's just gotta be. This has that classic, jazzy piano style that reminds
you of a universal something, but you'll never figure it out.

    Track 05 : "Triops Has Three Eyes" { * * * * }

        "Two eyes on a face are usually enough..."

        Very bouncy-smooth--kids will dance and so will you. You should
even sway a little. This song has so many layers; you gotta really listen. There's
this "AiAiAiAiiAiiiAiiii" track in the back that is cool. This song has finally
made me ask, something that has been ricocheting off the top of my head
for two years: Where exactly does TMBG look for Their ideas? Why triops?
Hell, I had never even heard of a triops. Now a nation of three year olds do.
What will the future be like?

    Track 06 : "Apartment Four" { * * * * * }

        "If you ever get bored, come knock on my door, the one with the four."

        This...this song...is on my tip-top ten [thousand] TMBG playlist.
Honestly, I've been waiting for a track like this to come out ever since I started
listening to Them religiously two years ago. I love pretty much every thing
They do, trust me, but rarely does one outshine the rest such as this one.
If you get this album for any sole reason, it better be this song.
    (Incidentally, I wrote a stage-play-soon-to-be-turned-radio-play based on this
song and a few other TMBG drum-oriented songs - i.e. "Rhythm Section
Want Ad" and "Doctor Worm".)

    Track 07 : "High Five!" { * * * }

        "Keep it cool! Old school!"

        Marty really kicked it on the previous kid's album in "The Alphabet Lost
and Found" (another tippy-top falsetto fave), and you shouldn't expect much
different here. Did anyone else figure that his voice can go so high?

    Track 08 : "The Secret Life of Six" { * * }

        "Six knows how to stand on his head."

        Remember in the good ole days of Sesame Street how those foam numbers
on sticks (with a little help from some old school stop-motion) would climb
the stairs of a sunny ghetto in Brooklyn or emerge from a lake? Yeah, this'll
evoke images. A very different style for our Flans--do I sense...some Raffi-esque?
Say it isn't so! (It isn't so. It's waaay better than Raffi, 'kay.)

    Track 09 : "Seven" { * * * }

        "We want cake! Where's our cake?"

        I'm sensing a story here. One could have hours of fun just
brainstorming on how this song began. (Did ickle Henry have a seventh
birthday party?) This Dust Brothers track is highly memorable by its distinct
beyond distinct beat. It will leave you limerent.

    Track 10 : "Seven Days of the Week (I Never Go to Work)" { * * * * * }

        "Work is the last thing on my mind."

        This cover of a drinking ditty has been featured in the TMBG podcast,
the previous kid album, and this one. The Giants love this song and you do
too. That full trumpet sound? Brought to you lovingly by Mark "Loveman"
Pender. And singing along is inescapable.

    Track 11 : "Figure Eight" { * * * * }

        "Turn left, go straight, turn right, straight again."

        So, the lyrics are pretty straight forward but it's the HARMONY you gotta
watch out for. This is a totally rockin' piece of work and quite possibly possesses
the only lyrical use of Zamboni--ever.

    Track 12 : "Pirate Girls Nine" { * * * * }

        "Legend grew about their daring, never did they walk the plank."

        Flansy utilizes his amazing vocal range and design. Not to mention some
awesome accordion playing on Linnell's part. This tells an imaginative scene of
pirate girls--appealing because everyone wishes they were one. But this definitely
a fun one to sing along to. Do it.

    Track 13 : "Nine Bowls of Soup" { * * * }

        "I didn't think you even really liked soup."

        I get the feeling Linnell wrote this around "ichthyosaur." However random,
it's an amazing musical journey delving into interplanetary relations,
telecommunications, and manners.

    Track 14 : "Ten Mississippi" { * * }

        "Counting the seconds while singing the Mississippis..."

        A great song to practice your accordion scales to. Oh, and Robin Goldwasser's
voice never fails to amaze. Holy crap.

    Track 15 : "One Dozen Monkeys" { * * * * * }

        "It was a barrel that came from the jungle."

        This is the album's battery, by god. Hannah Levine is one classy little girl.
And Flansy's backup just kills me. There's so much attitude in this one, it's hard
to stop yourself from jazzin' right along with 'em. (We'll never look at a monkey
the same way again.)

    Track 16 : "Eight Hundred and Thirteen Mile Car Trip" { * * * * * }

        "Four hundred and seventeen miles to go."

        A blip (fifty-seven seconds) of rockin' reality. Are we peaking into the
touring life of They Might Be Giants? Whichever, this song would make for an
explosive concert!

    Track 17 : "Infinity" { * * * * }

        "How can I reach infinity?"

        Yay! The awesome guitar-licking and word-pealing skillz of Mr. Dan Miller!
This song embraces a common struggle. Dig that empathy.

    Track 18 : "I Can Add" { * * * }

        "I don't even know Spanish, but I'm gonna sing it in Spanish now!"

        This is another favorite of mine (be patient, I'm a fan-girl). Flansburgh
proves once again this he can hits notes and voices never-ever imagined before.
The man kills me.

    Track 19 : "Nonagon" { * * * * * }

        Okay, okay! HERE'S the real kicker! I cannot (NOT) stop listening to this
song, because it's pure harmonic-lyrical genius. This song should come with a
freaking warning siren. With so many songs stuck in your head,
how will you function?

    Track 20 : "Even Numbers" { * * * }

        "Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, red, green."

        This song could be categorized as Classic Linnell, featuring such ventures
as a sequencing, driver's education, and a disquieting confusion between genders.

    Track 21 : "Ooh La! Ooh La!" { * * * * }

        "Hike up your pants and do the coco pop."

        Oooooh yeah! Flansy and Robin rapping about skipping rope. It's the
answer to my most troubling dreams. The lyrics will drive you crazy with the
need to analyze.

    Track 22 : "The Heart of the Band" { * * * * }

        "We all like to play in the band--uh huh."

        Every instrument gets name-checked here--except for the keyboards,
which play a fairly large role in this song. Poor Linnell. I first heard this song
when John Flansburgh and John Linnell made a guest appearance on
Playhouse Disney's Higglytown Heroes (which, incidentally, they wrote the effing
theme for--hell yeah). It was awesome. And apparently Danny Weinkauf is black.
And Dan Miller, erm, a girl. Y'know, They have to suit every demographic and
everything.

    Track 23 : "Hot Dog!" { * * }

        "We're taking off, we're dancing now."

        I really, really want to say that this song is annoying. You have no idea
how much I yearn to storm that out. But the truth is, I watch Playhouse
Disney just for this moment in my life. (Not to mention Higglytown Heroes.)
And chances are you'll be dancing like...that too.

    Track 24 : "The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Theme" { * * }

        "Come inside, it's fun inside."

        Oh hell YES, you will sing along to this! The only annoying part is that
Mickey actually finds the gall to say something in his own theme song--as do
his friends. Repulsive. But Flansburgh makes it okay.

    Track 25 : "One Two Three Four" { * * }

        "One two three four."

        Truly prolific in the elements of sound. The beginning reminds me of
Mike Nesmith's birthday party scene in Head where Davey, Micky, and Peter are
dressed in monastic robes before jumping out of 'em and tripping on E. And
somehow this makes sense in accordance to the song...

    Track 26 : "John Lee Supertaster (Live)" { * * * }

        "Every flavor explodes, expodes and explodes."

        Perhaps mildly inappropriate for a children's album, but start 'em
young, I say! This track is absolutely r-ock-ing and would be nothing but noise
to the untrained ear.

    Track 27 : "Bed, Bed, Bed (Live)" { * }

        Sorry, John. This is interesting, at best. NOT my favorite version of the song
and certainly not a clincher for an album precedingly awesome as this, but I can get
the gist. Gets the kids to settle down after their routine moshing.

    (Disclaimer: I review as a fan and as such, suck supremely at it. Take all views with a grain of acid and you might feel better.)

Henry is Older!

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 00:17:00 GMT

Henry-is-Older - Get Video Code

I'm eighteen, baby! And! I has accordion and knowledge!

Man, so much has been going on I just haven't had the time to post here in a while! My sincere apologies, if anyone checks this. Again. Yes. But, s'riously. Here's a list of things that have happened in the past few months:

I saw They Might Be Giants twice. The one in Lancaster in July with my Uncle and Aunt and then again in Pittsburgh (which was AMAZING, by the way) on November 15th. Zyzzy and I got there exceptionally early and heard soundcheck. Erika, Colleen, and Justine showed up a little late 'cause Millvale couldn't be more confusing. And we were practically on top of the stage. Oppenheimer opened for the Giants and we talked to 'em a bit after the show. Very nice guys, very very nice. (Can you say AIRHORN solo? That just about won all of my respect for the evening.) The Giants came on and my group and I had an orgasm and a half--each. We were placed directly in front of the Roland (and MAIN SQUEEEEZE!) and John Linnell was giving us the strangest looks. As well as his setlist--THAT I GOT TO TAKE HOME. Marty Beller gave Justine his drumsticks and Danny Weinkauf signed John Linnell's setlist for me. Oh, and Flansburgh almost fell on us during "The Famous Polka". If you want more info, please ask. I can't think. The whole thing seems like an utter dream...
I have a radio show. With Adam Greenfield of Writerscafe.org fame. We've joined the Cult Vault, a fast growing organization striving to promote all the great great great shows of creative output on BlogTalkRadio. I think you should check out the show. As well as the other members of the Cult Vault. It is really great stuff, man.
I've written a billion things. And all are up on the Writer's Cafe. (This may or may not include half of a destined TmbG fanfic. Do not blame me. My perversions are unkempt. But you'll probably like it. Unless you're Them, then I am sincerely sorry--then again, I wouldn't mind having fanfiction about me...slash fiction even... Think of it a-as a joke, yes.)
I has a accordion. And continually choose to talk in baby-speak when I discuss it. I've learned a ton on it with the help of Jeanne! Currently, I'm trying to master "Valse d'Amelie" (Yann Tiersen). I've been teaching myself smidgens of They Might Be Giants songs, such as "Older" (yes), "I Palindrome I", "Ana Ng", "Experimental Film", "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)", the bellow shake in "Subliminal"... I'm working on it. I want to be an accordion masta.
I have a job. At Kings Family Restaurant. I have money now.
I got into Shippensburg University. So now I have a future!
I still have not worked on writing that new book. But I'm getting there.

    That's about all I can think of for now but it all pales in comparison to the fact that I can now go into porn shops.

    Thank joo, thank joo.
    Come back soon!

        Luffink-joo,
        Henry

The Great Palindrome-Ng Insult to Music

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 16:43:00 GMT

The-Palidrome-Ng-Insult-to-Music - Get Video Code

(This video includes a version of poorly constructed lip-synch, an organ, and an accordion performing both TMBG's "I Palindrome I" and "Ana Ng". It's six minutes long, but so worth it if you're look for a shit and giggle.)

    Hope you enjoy. I'm a little busy right now, but I'll be sure to update (and explain) on this new development a tad later! Ta-tas!

    Henry

    (In so many words, I make Flansy look like a girly man and Linnell a suave he-bitch.)

    Update:

    Alright! So last Sunday I bought an accordion from this lovely woman named Jeanne that I met on Craigslist! She had bought it for $700, but had listed the price as $450. When I met her she cut another fifty off! We were jamming in a stairwell at a firehall in Springdale. It's just another bullet I can add to my long list of surreal happenings.

    Anyway. The accordion is a pristine Italo-American (made in Italy!) 120-bass with three octaves. And it's heavy. I'm going to be real buff in a month, I bet. I love this accordion! It sounds great and it's smooth to operate. It will get its use, believe me.

    Jeanne has also offered some beginning "lessons" to get me set up; not only that, she's photocopied loads of info and beginner sheets of music! This woman is a godsend.

    The downfall? Now it only makes me wish even more that I was Linnell.

Clef Hangers

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 03:30:00 GMT

Recent future plans being made have drawn me to the fuzzy world of radio broadcasting! In preparation for such an event (such as becoming a supa-chic radio announcer for WYEP or WSYC), I've gotten myself in cahoots with Writer's Cafe supa-star, Adam Greenfield for a little writo-musico project for Blog Talk Radio. The name? I've already told you: Clef Hangers. Because you'll be hanging with Adam and Henry. Catchy, ain't it?

Anyway, we're in the works of setting up the show and times on Blog Talk Radio, so keep checking back and forth between here and here for more info! Right now you can join Writer's Cafe and join our group! Twenty-three members and growing! We just started yesterday folks, so shimmy yourself into the parade! Join Writer's Cafe and maybe you'll submit to our contest and win our Featured Writer hotspot! For. Two. Weeks. Can you smell that promotion? Smells like freedom. (Oh, and when the time comes, vote for Stephen Colbert '08. Appreciate it, thanks.)

    We'll be getting a website in the future, but in the meantime check the Writer's Cafe group regularly and the Blog Talk Radio profile page often. More updates later! Subscribe to this entry (or, preferably, my blog) and you'll see those updates!

    Have a hoppy, sunshiny day, yo.

    The Henry Half of Clef Hangers

Wishing I Were Linnell

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Wed, 03 Oct 2007 02:55:00 GMT

   So I've done it again. I've delved deeper into my obsession with They Might Be Giants and here's another outlet. It's "Experimental Film" (IN FULL - at least for the keyboard part, yeah?) off of TMBG's album The Spine. I found the sheet music on Wikifonia.org. Very neat site for any one looking for any sheet of music. They don't have a huge selection, but I think it's a fairly new site and at least every week a member uploads a new sheet of music of their choosing. Very noice, wouldn't you agree?

   I have a few more songs I'm struggling to learn right now and though you're probably not getting much excitement out of it - I sure am. I like to pretend I'm Linnell sometimes.

   And just so you individuals know - I am working on that Henrycast. It's just taking a little longer with all that college stuff and work stuff and writing stuff and stuff stuff. It's a little overbearing. But I somehow find time to teach myself piano.

-Experimental-Film--on-Organ - Get Video Code

Fighting School Lunches One Fry At a Time

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 16:07:00 GMT

   I must've missed the memo, but last week or so my old high school was on the news for an organized lunch boycott. How awesome is that? Finally, some dignified notoreity! If I had still been there, you know I would've been behind one of those guys in the hats shaking my groove thing at Martorelli Field. But, y'know, I would do so with class. I don't blame them, I would've boycotted those damn lunches too. They weren't very good.

   Personally, I didn't think that the price spike was that bad while I was there, but according to, y'know, people that still go there, it raised $0.25 again this year. Whew, wow. That's a biter. I guess they're just looking out for the little guy, instead of, y'know, stuffin' 'em in lockers. But we gotta be objective here, people. The school doesn't make money off them lunches. That's sort of sad. We were eating our way to Martorelli, baby!

   Anyway, I must go back to my Consumer Mathematics work before I fail my brain any longer.

   Here's a link for the full, more honest coverage from WTAE-TV. You're encouraged to squeal when you see someone you only knew from preschool or saw pimp-walking once in the hallway.

   And I am working on that Henrycast, by the way. I just gotta work six hours tonight. And do school work. And study for the SATs. And practice piano (which reminds me - another shitty video comin' up soon!). And research more on my already picked-out accordion... It's a Hohner and it's freaking great!

   Luff?
      Henry

An Interview!

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 03:53:00 GMT

My gooood friend, Sarah Yeomans (a.k.a. Colleen) recently sat down with me on the webberface for an interview. It's for her first Journalism assignment, but it may make it to my old high school's newspaper! Publicity, folks! This was the result of our hour long talk (and I say hour because I don't know how long it really was):

In Her Own Write: S.A. “Henry” Heistand on Lead Based and her alter-ego, Henry.

Sarah C. Yeomans

Wilde Society Reporter

Read and Exhale.
   That’s the advice S.A. Heistand gives readers of her new poetry book, Lead Based. This 17-year-old Pittsburgher released the book online in July of this year.
   She now reflects on the process of becoming a published author, her writing career, and exactly why they call her Henry.
   Starting at age four writing about “a group of teenagers that get stuck in a zoo”, Heistand caught on to many different forms of writing early. Her writing level during her early years surpassed many to the point that she was sent to a guidance counselor at Highcliff Elementary for the heavy, deep nature of the pieces she brought forth.
   If only this counselor could see her now.
   Lead Based is Heistand’s first published book, and, according to Heistand, “is a fully self published work. My mother’s a reverend for this Wisconsin New Age group and she had published her own workbooks and teachings on this mysterious website, Lulu.com.” Although shaky of the idea at the start, Heistand formatted her fifty poems into the Lulu template, copyrighted her work, and procured cover work from her younger sister, Allison Heistand. According to the author, “it’s good to knowing I can do something for myself.” Thus, Lead Based birthed the start of a writing career for S.A. Heistand. A book with a title that echoes the profound, toxic nature of the literature inside.
   “You won’t die from reading it (or eating it),” says Heistand, “but hopefully you will be affected by it. It could be about paint. Or it could be about a pencil.”
   For Heistand, the most poignant piece in the entire book, entitled Pap Pap’s Place Burnt Down, was written for her grandfather, nicknamed “Joe Cool” by the family because of his personality. This poem was written for Joe Cool two months before his sudden death and just a short time after his mobile home burnt to the ground. Heistand, “hand-printed the poem on to some notebook paper and placed it in his coffin… I dedicated Lead Based wholly to him.”
   The book, amongst Heistand’s other writings, would surely make her grandfather smile. Writing comes naturally to her, especially her poetry. “It just flows better,” Heistand says of the abundance of poems she has published in her book and many others she has posted at WritersCafe.org. She often glances at her work posted to the Café “to be constantly assured that it’s there. It’s safe. It’s open to interpretation. And, for the most part, it’s out of my head.” Which is good for the readers, too, who get to log on and read the latest work by this talented writer. There, the reader can also glance at chapters out of Heistand’s newest novels or short stories and review the literature as well; by chance, she may have parts of her newest poetry book up for preview soon. “One hundred poems this time, as opposed to Lead Based’s fifty,” she tells the Society. One Hundred Henries- so why is she called Henry?
   “I started a short, stick-figure cartoon about a boy I didn’t like and which a character named Henry always died. I used to draw sketches on my hand and one day two kids in my 9th grade gym class saw it, taunted me with it, and it’s been phenomenal ever since!” she laughs. And with a final regard to Lead Based:
   “Take it with a grain of salt and a big vocabulary. It’s a mouthful.”

Read and exhale.

(Lead Based available from Lulu.com via http://www.saheistand.com)

LEAD BASED: Read and Exhale.

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Fri, 06 Jul 2007 20:25:00 GMT

   Huddle 'round, kids. I have a pleasant surprise for your unkempt attention.

   As of two o'clock this morning... I am a published author. Memo for my former mindset: "Fare thee well, ne'er-
do-well!" Bereave it, bitches.

   For six months I have been writing, editing, and spawning fragments into a fancy 220-page, perfect bound
book (6x9in, in fact). The ethereality is setting in, folks. I just can't believe it. My name in actual print, man. I am
a goddess. I am the Buddha of self-actualization. I am my own publisher, people. At One Hundred Henries all
your dizziest day dreams are just possibly a reality. (Yours too if you so fancy writing. Go to Lulu.com and
publish something, dammit.)

   I just don't know how to explain this exquisite pleasure I am feeling right now, because at this moment I am
feeling the happiest in my life. Just think it, folks. And for this occasion I'm going to tick off everything I am happy
about...right...now.

   I'm living with a great family. I have a job. I am in taekwondo. I am running every other day now. I just dyed
my hair cherry red on Monday. I am a published author. I am going to see They Might Be Giants two times
within the same year. My sister is out of hell and is living with my mother now. (She's safe and sound, folks!) I
am doing well in school. I am running my own website. I am able to keep up with my friends. I am more
independent now than I ever have been. I am three-quarters of the way to completing the first draft of my first
full-length novel! And for once (FOR ONCE) I am not absolutely batty about men.

   But these are not the points I have sought after for so long in this singular article.

   My book, entitled LEAD BASED, is a collection of fifty poems written over an emotional high and low six
months. These are fifty individual poems ready to establish their author into an archaic literary world. No fillers,
no substitutes, no artificial preservatives of the metaphysical kind. They are obscure, they are different, they
are so damn grand. Man, it feels so good to be free of my aching mind and the creative community's
fundamentalist decorum!

   Check on up on the fuss fuss fuss at Lulu.com, folks! Ta-dah.


(Forget not to READ and EXHALE.)

TMBG's "The Else"! (What? No accordions?!)

henry@saheistand.com (SA Heistand) — Wed, 16 May 2007 02:44:00 GMT

   Ever since I saw the They Might Be Giants (starring the the beautiful John Linnell and flamboyant John
Flansburgh) last Wednesday, May 9th, I've been screaming inside just waiting for their new album, The Else to
arrive. Because, after all, I believe they played out the entire CD at their concert. It was hard to get into at a
concert - because we as the audience had no idea what to expect - but, damn, the music was good. When I
realized that today was the Day for The Else to hit iTunes, you know that I whipped out that plastic, man. I
mean, come on, the actual CD arrives in stores July 10th, 2007. I am not waiting that long for my renewed
Giant goodness, nooo. Smart move for TMBG to let this out on iTunes. Yes, yes.

   You have to understand that I respect They Might Be Giants to an extreme (almost fanatical) degree. They
are creative, witty, obscure, excellent at wordplay... Given, not everything makes sense (nor is it meant to -
most of the time), but the fact is that it sounds right in our heads as we're watering the garden or driving to
work or meandering aimlessly while muttering our most favorite profound lyrics under our breath. (And I'll be
damned if I don't add that Linnell is maddeningly attractive, but we've been through this, I'm sure.) Given that
this John duo pushes out the songs like a pair of springtime rabbits, we are never left in dispair or in lack. Just
recently They've been doing theme and incidental music for classics, such as Adult Swim's
Drinky Crow Show. Did I mention that Linnell is attractive?



   Abandoning my schoolwork, leaving caution to face that fabled wind, I paid my $9.99 to iTunes
and proceeded to download immediately They Might Be Giants' The Else - and dare I say it? It was beautiful
and I am more in love than ever before. Memories flooded in from when I was near six and began my grand
adventure into the art of wordplay with the They Might Be Giants. Who knows if They're the ones who made
me so strange. Here's hoping!

   I remembered most of the songs on the new album were played at the concert, but they sound moderately
different on the tracks. Nothing beats live, but I rather like the original for "Upside Down Frown" and "The
Cap'm". However, I absolutely LOVED how They performed "I'm Impressed", "Climbing the Walls",
"Contrecoup", and "The Mesopotamians" at Mr. Smalls in Pittsburgh. ALL very good songs. Sacrilege or not,
"Climbing the Walls" may even rival John Henry's "AKA Driver" - my personal fave and mantra. Impressive, I
know.

   There didn't seem to be any outwardly "weird" tracks (with exception, maybe, of "Bee of the Bird of the Moth"
and the motley crue of seemingly Sixties themes in "With the Dark") which kind of disappointed me because I
am always ready for some experimental oddities like "Fingertips"! Certainly every thing was very lyrical and
bouncy. "Careful What You Pack" was slightly melancholy, but a sweet, syrupy one for Flansburgh. You find
your self really want a hug from Flans - I know I did. Another thing I found less emphasis on was...the horn
section! I sure hope they didn't give up on this bit of genius! The overall feel for The Else is certainly more rock
than pop, with a greater alliance with the drum set than I've heard from Them before. Not a problem. And boy,
how Linnell belts 'em out, as well. Whoo! However, it is true that this is the first (and hopefully only) album without adamant (and delightful!) use of the accordion. Sad sack. v.v

   This album receives four point two asterisks from me, for sure.

   { * * * * .2 }



Track 01 : "I'm Impressed" { * * * * * }

   "And I find that my head is nodding yes, but my legs are not following."
   A very haunting beginning for the album. A mysteriously, apathetic feel.

Track 02 : "Take Out the Trash" { * * * * }

   "Girl, why not give him the slip?"
   Very sassy. Seems like an - almost - typical Guys Suck song.

Track 03 : "Upside Down Frown" { * * * * * }

   "When I'm with you the landscape goes all weird."
   This is by far the "cutest" track. A bouncy, head-swaying cutie!

Track 04 : "Climbing the Walls" { * * * * * }

   "Too much junk, too much junk, could we please clear up this house?"
   A total "rock-out." Edgy and the perfect song for Linnell's amazing nasally singing
voice (lovelovelove). You find yourself singing along before you're even familiar with
the words.

Track 05 : "Careful What You Pack" { * * * }

   "Shaking up the bees, swinging from the trees... She's in trouble now."
   Like I said before, this one's slower and syrupy. At the Mr. Smalls show, I believe
Flans said that this was originally written for a movie, but didn't make the cut. I don't
particularly like Flans' voice in this one (almost grating), but it's "eh-okay."

Track 06 : "The Cap'm" { * * * * * }

   "Do you think there's somebody out there, someone else who's better than the one you got?
Well, there's not."
   The line above is the first line of the song and by far the best I have ever heard. Perfect
delivery, man! "The Cap'm" has an amazing melody. Sounds as if the "narrator" is
desperate to become a captain. I got the idea that it may be about the Pirates of the
Caribbean hype and recent pirate obsession - however, that's just how it translates to me.

Track 07 : "With the Dark" { * * * * }

   "She's in love with her broken heart. She's in love with the dark."
   The different sections flow right with each other and you don't even notice the subject
changing. It's similar to "Fingertips", but then again it isn't. It's not as abrupt and you think
"With the Dark" starts as a slow song, but it goes right into the meat of the song, but awes
you when it is shockingly (and deliciously) different.

Track 08 : "The Shadow Government" { * * * * * }

   "Where's the Shadow Government when you need it? ... It's a bad, bad world."
   As with many They Might Be Giants' songs, you can never be sure how to describe them.
The context is all over the place, but in a good way. Everytime you listen to it, you notice
something different. Such as this one. Very intriguing.

Track 09 : "Bee of the Bird of the Moth" { * * * * * }

   "You can't walk, you can't ramble 'cause you're going to have to scramble from the Bee of
the Bird of the Moth..."
   A slow into a moderately paced, calm song that could only be accomplished by the genius
of John Linnell. Another juxteposition success! (And I can hear trumpets in this one! xD)

Track 10 : "Withered Hope" { * * * * * }

   "Very sad sack, very, very sad sack."
   There's a strange, but cool sounding background that reminds me strangely of Gwen
Stefani's Harajuku girls... Don't ask why, I couldn't explain it to you. This song reminds
me greatly of TMBG's older stuff. Horns, it seems, are a part of this, as well.

Track 11 : "Contrecoup" { * * * * * }

   "You know what's wrong with me, you know phrenology, you saw my injury, you can tell just
by looking at my skull..."
   Another educational melody! [I type as I'm supposed to be doing school work...] I can
see this song challenging even "Birdhouse in Your Soul". It's that good! (As was expected,
right? You can't beat these guys!)

Track 12 : "Feign Amnesia" { * * * * }

   "Now I know just what to do - feign amnesia. How I wish it wasn't true - wish it wasn't true
right now."
   The intro music reminded me slightly of haunting echoes of Rocky Horror Picture Show
and then dived right into a childlike taunt - almost. Somehow this worked.

Track 13 : "The Mesopotamians" { * * * * * }

   "And no one's ever heard of our band."
   Another spin on the educational wheel of fortune with a jazzy tone. Remember these
names: Sargon, Hammurabi, Ashurbanipal and Gilgamesh.

   (I am an amateur, therefore I review more as a fan than an actual critic. However, it is my belief that
They Might Be Giants are chameleons within Their own style and genre, and are subject to abuse
because they are so bloody different. They veer from the cookie-cutter design of the musician and dive
right into an extreme aptitude of obscurity. It has been said that They play "kiddie" music. That is true,
but in a different respect. Yes, They have produced kid albums, but by Their acute sense of verbal
design and exquisite arrangements of the English language, They market largely to everyone who
appreciates good, genuine music. Which would be a very broad audience, wouldn't you agree?)