I could write another post about this weird and amazing life of mine would delight and awe my sixteen year old self, but isn’t that kind of getting old? Here’s what I can say instead: They Might Be Giants can still rock the hell out of a room, even though they’re all sort of old guys now. They’re dad-rockers. John Flansburgh looks like a slightly pudgy indie rock Robert Downey Jr. Everybody’s got a tiny bit of a beer gut.
And they totally tore my face off last night, barrelling through new stuff and old stuff and most of Lincoln, “in honor of this theater”. (They also wrote a song for the Lincoln Theatre, which Flansburgh confessed they’d actually written the last time they played there, “but the lineup is startlingly the same!”) They ripped into “Birdhouse In Your Soul” three songs into the set. They climbed bits of their stage set-up and carried their wireless mics all over and did some sort of bizarre and charming puppet show throughout the set.
It was like being 17 all over again, only totally less of a trainwreck. So it was great.
Jonathan Coulton opened, and he sang songs about math and zombies and was super charming, and the whole evening was fantastic. Full set is here.