Some songs are serious, some are silly, and some are pure pop surrealism—musical cartoons that make you grin every time they come on. “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants, released in 1990, fits perfectly into that third category. It’s a quirky, kinetic burst of swing revival energy that feels like an old-timey novelty song reimagined through a modern alt-rock lens. With its snappy tempo, intricate wordplay, and offbeat charm, the tune became one of the band’s signature hits and a cult classic for the weird-at-heart. For listeners of a certain era—especially those who grew up on early MTV or Tiny Toon Adventures—“Istanbul” is a gateway into the wonderfully strange world of They Might Be Giants, a band that never met a melody or a metaphor they couldn’t twist into something brilliantly odd.
The irony, of course, is that “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” wasn’t originally written by They Might Be Giants at all. The song actually dates back to 1953, composed by Jimmy Kennedy and Nat Simon as a novelty hit for The Four Lads. But when John Linnell and John Flansburgh—collectively known as They Might Be Giants—decided to cover it nearly four decades later, they transformed it from a playful period piece into a zany, genre-bending anthem. Their version fused klezmer-inspired horns, surf guitar, and a frenetic dance beat into a concoction that somehow made perfect sense in the off-kilter world of early ’90s alternative music. It was old-fashioned, futuristic, and totally unforgettable all at once.
From Constantinople to Cult Status
When They Might Be Giants recorded their version of “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” for their 1990 album Flood, they were still riding the underground wave of college radio and DIY cassette culture. Their earlier albums—They Might Be Giants (1986) and Lincoln (1988)—had established them as the kings of eccentric, literate pop. Their songs were short, smart, and often hilarious, blending absurdism with surprising emotional depth.
But Flood was different. It was their first major-label release, and it marked the moment when their quirky genius went semi-mainstream. The record produced several standout tracks, including “Birdhouse in Your Soul” and “Particle Man,” but “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” was the one that instantly caught ears—and feet. Its manic energy and singalong chorus made it both a dance-floor hit and a comedy sketch rolled into one.
The song’s origins made it even more intriguing. Written in the early Cold War era, the original “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” was meant as a tongue-in-cheek history lesson, referencing the 1930 renaming of the ancient city. But They Might Be Giants infused it with new life, adding rapid-fire vocals, electric guitar riffs, and a touch of surrealist humor. It wasn’t just a cover—it was a reanimation, a technicolor reboot of an already strange song.
The Sound of Controlled Chaos
Musically, “Istanbul” is an exercise in delightful chaos. It opens with a driving snare drum and quickly erupts into a whirlwind of violin, brass, and upright bass, all locked into a manic tempo that barely lets up. The arrangement feels like it could collapse at any moment—but it never does. That sense of just-barely-controlled energy is part of what makes it so addictive.
John Linnell’s accordion is front and center, providing a carnival-like backdrop that feels both old-world and avant-garde. His voice, elastic and wry, delivers the lyrics with perfect comedic timing. Meanwhile, John Flansburgh’s guitar adds a surf-rock twang that gives the song a modern kick. Together, the two Johns turn what could have been a novelty throwback into something entirely new: a high-speed collision between 1950s kitsch and 1990s alt-rock irreverence.
And then there’s that chorus—a dizzying singalong that practically dares you to keep up:
“Istanbul was Constantinople / Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople / Been a long time gone, old Constantinople / Now it’s Turkish delight on a moonlit night.”
It’s absurdly catchy, linguistically clever, and musically propulsive. It’s history rewritten as a dance number, complete with a wink and a smile.
The MTV and Tiny Toons Connection
A big part of why “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” became such a generational touchstone has to do with its visual afterlife. The early 1990s were a golden age for music videos, and They Might Be Giants leaned into that medium with gleeful creativity. Their stop-motion and puppet-heavy videos stood out amid the grunge and glam of the era.
But what really cemented “Istanbul” in pop culture was its inclusion in an episode of Tiny Toon Adventures in 1991. The Warner Bros. cartoon, beloved by kids and nostalgic adults alike, featured animated versions of Babs and Buster Bunny lip-syncing to the song while chasing each other through a colorful, chaotic version of Turkey. The segment was pure, kinetic joy—and for millions of young viewers, it was their first introduction to They Might Be Giants.
This unexpected crossover turned the band into unlikely icons of alternative kids’ culture. Alongside acts like Devo and The B-52’s, They Might Be Giants proved that weirdness could be accessible—and that pop music didn’t have to take itself so seriously.
Smart Humor, Dumb Fun
Part of the genius of They Might Be Giants lies in their ability to balance intellectual humor with sheer goofiness. On the surface, “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” is a silly song about a city changing its name. But beneath the jokes lies a sly commentary on identity, progress, and the passage of time. The lyrics hint at how history is constantly being rewritten—how what was once familiar becomes something new, and how we cling to the past even as it transforms.
In that sense, the song fits perfectly into They Might Be Giants’ broader artistic philosophy. Their music has always been about curiosity and contradiction. They write love songs that sound like science experiments, and science songs that sound like bedtime stories. They make the absurd seem profound, and the profound seem absurd.
When you listen to “Istanbul,” you’re not just hearing a history lesson—you’re hearing a celebration of change, of reinvention, of the way old ideas can find new rhythms in unexpected places.
The Flood Legacy
Flood remains They Might Be Giants’ most iconic album, and “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” plays a huge part in that legacy. The album’s blend of humor, melody, and experimentation made it one of the defining alt-rock records of the early ’90s. It’s the kind of album that never goes out of style because it was never trying to be in style in the first place.
For many fans, “Istanbul” was their entry point—a gateway drug to the band’s broader universe of eccentric pop. The song’s success helped They Might Be Giants reach a wider audience and proved that you could be smart, strange, and successful all at once.
Even today, the song remains a staple of their live shows, often performed with a full horn section and extended solos that turn it into a full-on party. Audiences still dance, laugh, and shout along, even if they couldn’t locate Constantinople on a map.
Reinvention Through Time
One of the most fascinating aspects of “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” is how well it embodies its own theme of transformation. A song about change has itself changed—across decades, genres, and generations.
The original 1953 recording by The Four Lads had a swing-era charm, all brass and bounce. Later versions by artists like Don Costa and Bing Crosby leaned into lounge or big-band styles. But it was They Might Be Giants who truly reimagined the song for a new era. Their version didn’t just modernize it—it reframed it entirely.
By the 1990s, the cultural landscape had shifted dramatically. Irony was the new sincerity, and the past was ripe for recontextualization. “Istanbul” became a perfect emblem of postmodern pop—a song that simultaneously celebrated and parodied nostalgia.
It’s fitting that the band known for writing about particle men, palindromes, and alternate realities would find their biggest hit in a song about the fluidity of names and places.
Why It Still Resonates
Over thirty years later, “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” still sounds fresh. Maybe it’s because no one else has ever quite captured that blend of humor and musicianship. Or maybe it’s because the world keeps changing, and the song’s core message—about how nothing stays the same—is as relevant as ever.
It also helps that the track is irresistibly fun. You can’t help but move to it. It’s a reminder that music doesn’t have to be self-serious to be great—that joy and intelligence can coexist, and that even the silliest ideas can have staying power when executed with skill.
For fans of They Might Be Giants, “Istanbul” represents the band’s ethos in miniature: boundless curiosity, a love of the unexpected, and a willingness to dive headfirst into the weird.
The Eternal Joke That Never Gets Old
Like the city it’s named after, “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” keeps evolving. It’s been remixed, reinterpreted, and reintroduced to new generations, from YouTube compilations to karaoke nights. Its timeless absurdity makes it evergreen.
And beneath the silliness lies something almost profound: a recognition that everything changes, whether we like it or not. Constantinople becomes Istanbul, the old becomes new, and the joke keeps on spinning.
They Might Be Giants turned that truth into a party, wrapping existential reflection in a danceable beat and sending it out into the world with a wink.
Conclusion: The Beat Goes On
“Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants is more than just a novelty hit—it’s a work of joyful, intelligent pop art. Released in 1990, it bridged generations, blending mid-century swing with modern alt-rock weirdness. It’s a reminder that music doesn’t have to fit into neat boxes to endure.
More than three decades later, the song remains as infectious as ever, a quirky masterpiece that makes history dance. It’s a celebration of transformation, creativity, and pure, unfiltered fun.
Much like the city that inspired it, “Istanbul” endures because it refuses to stand still. It keeps changing, surprising, and delighting. And for They Might Be Giants, that’s exactly the point: the world is strange, the past is never really gone, and the best songs are the ones that make you smile and think at the same time.
