If Hollywood has taught us anything, it's that every hardcore geek is nothing but a popular kid in bulky glasses and bad clothing. If I had a single rice krispy for every time I've seen a plot on television or in a movie involving a not-so-subtle transformation from pathetic nerd to popular hottie, I'd be in a state of perpetual breakfast.
While these transformations can oftentimes be dramatic, they're never surprising. All the paste-on zits and pocket protectors in the universe usually can't hide the fact that the "geek" you're looking at is an attractive actor or actress trying his best to play up loserdom with a weak-ass Anthony Michael Hall impression.
John Linnell and John Flansburgh, on the other hand, are true geeks. Serious geeks. The kind of geeks who probably used to spend their Saturday afternoons trying to get their Apple IIc's to calculate pi. But these aren't your average geeks-- these geeks managed to craft two undeniably brilliant albums with backup provided only by primitive Macintosh MIDI in lieu of traditional instrumentation.
They Might Be Giants and Lincoln certainly sounded like nothing else before or since. It was clear that their progenitors were wise-ass geeks-- but it was just as clear that they were pop-sensible wise-ass geeks. Hooks were always present, even as the duo of Johns began to ditch the MIDI for the more analog sound of an actual band. Even with 1996's admittedly spotty Factory Showroom, the boys managed to make their music concurrently smart, goofy, geeky, and insanely catchy, in spite of a guest appearance by Neutral Milk Hotel's Julian Koster. Don't think you can hide from me, Julian.
Obviously, a lot has changed in five years. The humble geeks, who at the time of their last album enjoyed a substantial cult following of middle-aged computer programmers and younger "Tiny Toon Adventures" fanatics, have started receiving recognition on a scale never before imagined, penning music for "Malcolm in the Middle" and Austin Powers 2. These nerds have gone popular. And as a result, their once-intelligent style has given way to dumb, silly pandering. Perhaps harder to explain, the pop hooks have given way to unwieldy disasters.
Yes, Mink Car is crap. All the charms They Might Be Giants once seemed to possess have dissipated into a cloud of embarrassing awkwardness. Some of the songs on Mink Car are just so hideously atrocious that one can't help but wonder how the same duo whose last album was host to catchy, memorable songs like "Until My Head Falls Off" could release an album that not only leaves you with nothing to remember, but makes you eager to forget.
The worst offenders on Mink Car are the one-off (or, in some cases, two-off) genre pieces, which come off about as authentic as spam, and not nearly as amusing. "Mr. Xcitement," a disgusting mess of computer preset breakbeats, far-too-goofy lyrics, and former Soul Coughing frontman Doughty, possesses absolutely none of the wit and nerdy charm we've come to expect from They Might Be Giants. It's tempting to accuse "Mr. Xcitement" of being a disjointed train wreck of a song, but one gets the sense that if it were more cohesive, it might be even worse. "Wicked Little Critta" treads dangerously close to Presidents of the United States of America territory, substituting brain-twisting pain for oddball fun.
Failed experiments are not all that new to They Might Be Giants, but the thing that makes Mink Car beyond dismal is the fact that all the potential for goodness on the album seems to have been squandered. "Bangs" is possibly the album's best track, simply because it actually sounds like They Might Be Giants. It's got a bouncy, sufficiently twisty melody that lends itself perfectly to Linnell's trademark nasal whine. But the song is never really allowed to come into its own. Instead, it's transposed way too early, and at a seriously inopportune moment, haphazardly breaking up the flow of a song that otherwise excels in the melody department. "Hovering Sombrero" is more consistent but less catchy, fading far too easily into the background. It's a sad thing when you find yourself waiting for a band to pull off a second-rate imitation of their older material, but it's almost unavoidable with an album as disjointed and generally bad as Mink Car.
As if general mediocrity weren't enough, the two Johns had to go back and screw up some songs that have existed in vastly superior forms for years. "Another First Kiss" and "Man, It's So Loud in Here" both sounded great as live staples. But the former has been transformed from a driving rock song (as heard on the band's 1998 live album, Severe Tire Damage) to a limp, trite acoustic number with a played-out drumbeat that can only leave one thinking "Lyte Funky Giants." "Man, It's So Loud in Here" has been desecrated with cheesy dance drum machine beats and synth bass. The chorus still packs a bit of punch, but the song itself sounds more like ABBA than fellow geek-rockers Devo.
In the aforementioned movies and TV shows, the made-over geeks always settle perfectly into their newfound social standing. After all, they were really just poorly dressed, acne-ridden popular kids all along. But it's clear that this is not the case with They Might Be Giants. You can dress an A/V club member in Abercrombie and put him on the football team, but at the end of the day, he'll be badly bruised and weeping longingly for his history textbook and vintage Amiga. The volatile tides of popularity won't be kind to They Might Be Giants for long. Let's just hope they figure that out before they give up on whatever bits and pieces of their musical identity they still have left.
