It's about time.

That's the overriding emotion I had upon hearing about John Linnell's new State Songs release. His band They Might Be Giants have been pretty busy for the past few years, but that still hasn't stopped co-Giant John Flansburgh from releasing solo material with side project Mono Puff. It's always been fascinating to consider what would happen if Linnell unleashed his considerable solo talent upon an unsuspecting recording studio, and State Songs is the result of such an onslaught.

The verdict? Stuffed to bursting with infectious pop hooks like a musical Thanksgiving turkey, State Songs is everything you love about TMBG--the radical stylistic shifts, the abstract yet hilarious lyrics, the effortless musicality--all brought together on one album. It's as good as a great Giants album, and yet thanks to Linnell's distinct voice as a songwriter, it also stands as a unique achievement outside of the Giants catalog.

In listening to Songs, longtime Giants fans will inevitably consider just what it is about Linnell's songwriting that contrasts his work with that of Flansburgh. To unfairly generalize, Flansie's writing often takes a skewed view of our reality and relationships--look no further than his classic "Narrow Your Eyes" from Apollo 18 to see one of his greatest compositions on a failed love affair.

Linnell's lyrical worldview is similarly skewed, but can also seem borne of a reality that none of us may ever understand. For the songs on State Songs, one might expect that he'd take wacky facts about each state and set them to music, as he similarly did on "James K. Polk" from the Factory Showroom album. Instead, he's used each state's name as inspiration for some unrelated and often bizzare meditations.

"Montana" tells the tale of a man on his death bed whose final words consist entirely of the poignant observation that "Montana is a leg." The tale of "Arkansas" is actually the tale of an enormous seafaring vessel constructed in the shape of the state itself. Naturally, the vessel sinks--shades of Titanic? In the chorus to "Utah," Linnell defiantly proclaims, "I forget you/I forget you/I forget Utah." "Pennsylvania" earns only a series of "La-la-la-la" lyrics from Linnell, and unbeknownst to its innocent citizenry, there is another West Virginia lurking within West Virginia.

It's all classic absurd comedy from Linnell's pen, often conjuring unexpected pathos when combined with his melodies. There's a sincere sadness in imagining the lone woman waving her handkerchief as the good ship Arkansas sinks slowly into the sea--and yet, that sadness is soon undercut by Linnell singing in a low register and performing lines as the ship itself. When it's not melancholy, as Linnell's melodies can often be, the music is all catchy pop brilliance, from the uptempo guitar pop of "Songs of the Fifty States" to the percussive piano-driven "South Carolina."

There's also a lot of fun to be had in the near-instrumentals on State Songs, such as the aforementioned "Pennsylvania" and the rave-up "Michigan," a loud, fast and out of control tune reminiscent of "The Famous Polka" that only features brief lyrics near its end. The opening track, "Illinois," is performed entirely on a vintage band organ, which required Linnell to recruit a technician to punch his melodies into a roll of paper and then run the roll featuring his song through a massive band organ. One organ on the album was found in an afficianado's home in Long Island, another inside the carousel in Central Park. Four songs feature band organ along with Linnell's vocals and instrumental additions, but it's this first song that spotlights the organ most effectively and sets the perfect playful tone for the rest of the album.

John Linnell has finally graced TMBG fans with a solo project, and it's a doozy. State Songs is just about as much fun as you can have listening to a CD, and hopefully dancing and singing along with wild abandon. It's a far cry from a travelogue on sixteen of America's finest states, but then again, what fun would that be?