I’m writing about every song by They Might Be Giants. Equal parts: Fandom, Personal Reflections and Experimentation on what is tolerable the human reader. Like a negroni of Nerdom. First time here? Get the next one in your inbox.
This song poses a deeply philosophical question that is surprisingly deep for a kids’ album. Where Do They Make Balloons? The fifth track on They Might Be Giants’ album, No! was written and sung by bassist, Danny Weinkauf which does lend an overall “differentness” to the vibes party.
I’m not going to spend a lot of time writing about trivia or musical composition on this one. Instead, I want to pose a more important question:
Why do they make balloons?
How many balloons need to be gathered in one place for it look exciting? Surely more than one. If I walk into a room, and see a balloon in the corner, my first thought isn’t going to be, “Oh hell yeah we’re partying.” It’s probably more like, “Wait, did someone bring a toddler to this party?”
I don’t think we reach an interesting-peaking number of balloons until at least twenty balloons. Even still, seeing that is still going to make me worry that there are many toddlers at this party. But where do those balloons go after they deflate? There is no other purpose for them other than to become trash. Balloons are boring, wasteful, and I’m still not done complaining about them.
Several years back, my ex and I found ourselves without plans for New Year’s Eve. We decided to buy some last second tickets to a Taylor Swift themed event in town. It was basically a club where a DJ played full tracks of Swift songs with a montage of music video footage projected on the wall behind the table. None of which actually pertained to the song being played or lined up with the music in the slightest.
We walked into that venue, got in line at the bar and I proceeded to order one of the specially crafted cocktails for the night - a Tropical Red Bull with Tequila. As far as dance clubs “cocktails” go, it was “not good,” but I had to when-in-Rome it up.
This brings me to the balloons.
Here’s the thing with balloons in a club or any public space really. A dance floor, covered with red balloons, is theoretically fun. If they have “fuck the patriarchy” written on them? Even more fun. You drink, dance, start smacking balloons up in the air and after about thirty minutes the game becomes a chore that everyone actively pretends not to be avoiding.
“How long do we have to play with these!?”
Before the end of the night, people are stomping on the balloons rather than risk being seen bending over to pick one up and reignite the crowd balloon obligation again.
Most notably, hearing the sounds of balloons popping in a highly attended event is very reminiscent of the always recent bullets-leaving-guns events that are on the news. Nothing sucks the joy out of leaving your home like the immediate reminder that someone might be shooting people.
So maybe balloons have had their day in the sun.
Which is also a much better place for balloons to exist today.
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