Talking Heads Start Making Sense
On witnessing the peak of the seminal band's entire career plus so many dang record events in October & November
I’ve never understood Talking Heads.
It’s not that I don’t like their music. I really do - they have so many incredible songs, outside the hits, too. It’s just that I never “got” them. What were they about? What is Byrne singing? Why are they infusing their music with African polyrhythms and staccato beats? What’s with the big suit?
For so long, Talking Heads really did stop making sense. That is, until I saw the 40th anniversary of the greatest concert film of all time - Stop Making Sense. Suddenly, I got it. They made all the sense in the world.
For the past few weeks since seeing the film, I have done a second deep dive into their discography to figure out what changed my mind. What made me go from a casual Talking Heads fan who had some shame about not understanding them to loving more of their music and understanding their history while simultaneously reckoning with the fact that I just can’t stand some of their work e.g. most of Talking Heads: ‘77, the last few songs of Remain in Light, and half of LIttle Creatures and Naked?
Perhaps its age and wisdom. In their song “Girlfriend is Better” from More Songs about Buildings and Food, they reference the passing of time and its correlation with (mis)understanding the world - "as we get older and stop making sense.” Some would hear this line and think that it is talking about senility. As we get older, some people literally stop making sense. However, I think Byrne is referencing something else, something that comes from his art school weirdo background.
By now, if you’re a Talking Heads fan, you know the band lore. Bassist Tina Weymouth, drummer Chris Frantz, and guitarist / vocalist David Byrne all met at the Rhode Island School of Design, where they banded together to form Talking Heads and got their break opening for the Ramones at the infamous New York punk club CBGBs. As Jerry Harrison came onboard for additional guitar, keyboard, and production, they developed a sound that was anything but punk. In fact, to the sneer punker, they came off as a clean-cut bunch of normies, who were making “art rock.” Weird and slightly pretentious. Static but dynamic. Nonsensical yet making all the sense in the world. David Byrne and his merry band of misfits were (and still are) just a gaggle of weirdos.
And that’s a good thing.
Stop Making Sense captures the incredible 1983 tour in support of Talking Heads’ album Speaking in Tongues and was shot at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood, CA. Watching it on the big screen, it is astoundingly clear that the concert films overall directive for the audience is to literally STOP MAKING SENSE. What we’re about to see on screen, how music works (a concept that Byrne would go on to further explore in his book), and our bodies and minds’ response to the music will not make sense - and that’s okay. This communal activity is a moment to fully experience in the preset moment.
Talking Heads’ entire musical output and discography was an ever-growing exploration. If their music was charted on a graph in terms of creative evolution, it would be constantly moving upward to the peak that was Stop Making Sense. Featuring the influences of Brian Eno and Afro-Caribbean funk, and the addition of background vocalists, Bernie Worrell on keyboards, and Alex Weir on rhythm guitar (who personally to me steals the entire concert with his contagious on-stage enthusiasm), Stop Making Sense takes the music of their past and brings it up to the speed and sound of the 1983 version of Talking Heads, complete with the full afro-funk polyrhythm, big band energy that started creeping in with Fear of Music, exploded on Remain in Light and synthesized with the previous sound of the band to merge into the ultimate expression of the band on Speaking in Tongues.
Notably the film never features the audience members, which makes the concert film feel even more cinematic, more artistic, more emotional. This last part is key for me with regards to Talking Heads’ music, and I think is the answer to what changed my mind. I attempted a previous deep diving into their music during the pandemic quarantine, where I bought their whole discography on vinyl. Of course, I had heard the hits growing up, but I was interested to learn about the songs we don’t know about or often sing or see featured in countless trailers.
I’m not going to lie to you - they fell flat to me. It wasn’t clicking for me. I wasn’t “getting it.”
Of course, they have their hits, and I mean, when they hit, they HIT. “Once in a Lifetime.” “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody).” “And She Was.” So many more. However, as the film started with the deconstructed version of “Psycho Killer” and then proceeded to not only narratively construct the entire concert by adding more band members to build the sound but also quite literally build the construction of the stage, I was back in that mindspace of doubt. I was digging the music, but I wasn’t loving it. I had been so excited to see the film, but my mind was racing with the thought that I was missing something.
And then they played “Burning Down the House.” When I heard that infamous repetitive guitar intro, I sat up straight in my seat. And then the screen and my brain exploded. Talking Heads started making sense to me finally when I witnessed the live performance of “Burning Down the House,” which I believe is the absolute peak of the Talking Heads entire' career. It is the absolute rawest, loudest, chaotic, emotional reinterpretation of a single song for a band.
The intensity to which they sang “Burning Down the House” is just . . . whatever you want it to be. For me, this is where the band finally came alive in the present and in hindsight. The musicality, the exuberance, and passion put into every line while the camera showcases the band in unison rapturously performing - it feels like they are literally trying to burn the house down. Watch this and tell me you don’t feel the same way.
After this song, the rest of the film stayed at the same level of intensity and musicianship. Talking Heads are screaming “this ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around” in the next song “Life During Wartime,” but they are playing so hard that their actions contradict their words. Oh, it’s a party, it’s definitely a disco. (I was unfortunately not in one of the screenings where people danced to the film, but we all did rapturously clap after each song.) The concert continues to build up towards the final song “Cross-Eyed and Painless,” replete with the most memorable moments that you’ve all seen immortalized as memes, GIFs, and pulls. The dance with the lamp during “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody).” The wiggle waggle moment. Byrne as the soulful preacher man during “Take Me to the River.” THE BIG SUIT.
Out of context, none of this makes sense. That’s the point. It doesn’t and it shouldn’t. It was finally seeing the vision that Byrne had in his mind this whole time come to life that made them click for me. Life’s a stage. Being normal is a performance, and freedom is when you can let your inner weirdo fly on and make no sense, without a care in the world. Watching Stop Making Sense and listening to the live album is where I realized that the Talking Heads started making sense when I tried to stop making sense of them. The secret to unlocking it was being comfortable in the uncomfortable, in connecting with the idea that normal is boring, and in owning the profound confidence to have your inner weirdness be your norm.
That’s where Talking Heads and we squarely live and thrive. It’s our home, where we always wanted to be.
Recommendations Inspired by Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense
Bandsplain: Talking Heads Parts 1 & 2 (Podcast)
Another incredibly delightful two-parter from Yasi Salek featuring Rob Harvilla discussing the entire discography and history of the band. It’s riveting, delightful, and often times hilarious.
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson (Book)
I read this book at a pretty crucial time where my daily work life was really messing with my personal headspace. I was tying my professional career to my self-worth to a detrimental degree, and a semi-toxic environment was bringing me down. A lot of it changed when I finally stopped giving a f*ck: to what others thought, to what the success or failure meant as a reflection of me, and to my job as my purpose. This book validated my feelings and showed me how to keep it consistent.
Honorable Mention: How Music Works by David Byrne (Book)
It’s an honorable mention because I just got it and haven’t read it yet, but it’s been highly recommended by a few friends now. Have you read it?
The Good Thing: Best of Talking Heads (Playlist)
If you aren’t up to venturing through the ENTIRE discography of the band, here’s my personal selections of their best songs, with Stop Making Sense being the better versions of many studio songs. Don’t @ me.
October / November Record & Music Events
Eat your heart out and shop records from dublab at Smorgasborg LA Record Fair (TODAY - 10/15)
How are we already approaching November? Well, ring it in with Discotchari’s first record release party at Zebulon featuring Armenian jazz and psych, Middle Eastern disco & Japanese surf with some near-and-dear supporting acts (Friday, 11/3)
Buy records and make news at the next RECORD STORE MEET-UP at Estuario.LA (Sunday, 11/5)
That’s it for this issue of First Pressing. Thanks for sticking around, and hope to see you at the next one.
Until then, happy spinning :)
Kadrian
P.S.