They Might Be Giants have made a career out of coloring outside the lines. For over four decades, John Flansburgh and John Linnell have gleefully zigged where others zag, delivering surrealist pop songs, power-nerd anthems, and brainy ballads from the outer edge of alt-rock. Now, with The Spine Surfs Alone: Rarities 1998–2005, they crack open the vault on a particularly adventurous era and finally bring a fan-favorite batch of B-sides, live tracks, and cult curiosities to the masses.

More than a rarities grab bag, this is a sharply curated collection that charts the winding, wildly creative period following the major-label chapter that ended with Factory Showroom. Between 1998 and 2005, the band shifted into a new gear, creating independent releases, branching into children’s music, experimenting with digital exclusives, and landing surprise mainstream moments (like that Malcolm in the Middle theme you still know by heart).

This set opens with the full The Spine Surfs Alone EP (2004), a release that’s long been sought after by collectors and nearly impossible to find in physical form. From there, it drops in four cuts from Severe Tire Damage (1998), a live album that captured the band’s unpredictable energy and tossed in a few studio oddities just to keep things weird. Up next is the definitive single version of “Boss of Me,” the band’s most visible crossover hit and a perfect encapsulation of their ability to sneak subversive joy into mainstream airwaves.

What follows is a rare look at just how far-flung their output was during these years. There’s a track from the Man, It’s So Loud in Here EP, a faithful but unmistakably TMBG take on “Ram On” from the Listen to What the Man Said Paul McCartney tribute, and their contribution to Wig In A Box, a beloved compilation inspired by Hedwig And The Angry Inch. Five cuts from 2000’s Working Undercover For The Man EP bring in everything from synth-pop experiments to deadpan anthems, and the whole thing wraps with a previously iTunes-exclusive instrumental from the Here Come the ABCs era - proof that even their children’s music outtakes had bite.

Every track on The Spine Surfs Alone makes this release not just a completist’s dream, but a long-overdue spotlight on a period where the band was quietly at their most prolific, playful, and unbound. Whether they were writing for toddlers or tribute albums, for late-night shows or dial-a-song devotees, They Might Be Giants kept the quality high and the surprises coming.

This compilation connects the dots between their better-known releases and the fan-favorite fringe. And if it feels like a window into an alternate TMBG timeline, that’s kind of the point. Even when they’re working under the radar, They Might Be Giants never miss.