In the raucous yet poignant "Till My Head Falls Off" -- possibly the most "punk" song TMBG have ever done -- John Linnell sings from the perspective of a man who is beset by senility ("Don't interrupt me as I struggle to complete this thought / Have some respect for someone more forgetful than yourself") but won't go down without a fight ("And I'm not done ... Though it may not be a long way off, I won't be done until my head falls off"). In the gentle yet darkly funny "Your Own Worst Enemy," he plays a shut-in who weeps and numbs himself with alcohol, while what may be just a figment of his imagination lurks right outside his home. (And how's this for a chorus: "The song they play is that guy with the messed-up face going, precious and few are the moments that you and your own worst enemy share"?) The lovely, mid-tempo "Spiralling Shape" may well be an anti-drug song, given lines like "Go ahead, wreck your life ... clawing at nothing you drop through the void / Your terrified screams are inaudible ... The spiralling shape will make you go insane." He also contributes a rollicking ode to the accomplishments of president James K. Polk (complete with a "singing saw" solo), and the lush closing track "The Bells Are Ringing" (complete with amazing vocal-layering, and chilling lyrics about mind-control).

As for John Flansburgh, he's featured on the disc's most madly inspired moment, "I Can Hear You;" recorded with no electricity on an 1898 Edison wax cylinder recording studio phonograph, the song effectively re-creates the muffled sounds of the airplane phones, door buzzers, and fast-food drive-through intercoms about which he croons. The exuberant "New York City" -- a track written by three women (!) and featuring one of Flansy's sweetest performances -- evokes the joy and the rush of young love. In sharp contrast, the mellow "Pet Name" has him awkwardly fumbling his way toward a relationship ("You say I'm OK for a guy, but I can tell that you are lying / And we've almost figured out how we'll get along / And given time, we'll find it strange to be alone"). "XTC vs. Adam Ant" is not so much about a celebrity deathmatch between the British New Wave acts ("Beatle-based pop versus new-romantic"), as it is about the eternal struggle of "content versus form;" ever the diplomat, he concludes, "There is no right or wrong." (Speaking for myself, I'm more of an XTC gal...) And in the gorgeous (though overlong and repetitive) ballad "How Can I Sing Like a Girl" ("...and not be stigmatized by the rest of the world?"), Flansburgh bemoans the repression of one's talent in the name of seeking society's approval.

Overall, Factory Showroom is, thus far, TMBG's most grossly underrated and consistently strong effort. (P.S.: To find the hidden ditty, "Token Back to Brooklyn," cue up track 1, press play, and hold the backwards-skip button [<<] down for about a minute.)
"A token back to Brooklyn fell between the grating and we're just watching it sinking;
"The fare went up to one hundred dollars and we can never go home again.
"The bill collector's drinking lighter fluid and says he'll tell our parents;
"Our feet start running at a furious pace, but we can't get away."

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