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Now available for preorder:
The San Francisco Panorama.
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- - - - Guardian Unlimited Copyright of Guardian Newspapers Limited 2003
- - - - A Head case no longer After a lifetime of angst, David Byrne is about to embrace grubby humanity. By Neil Spencer 'He doesn't like talking about Talking Heads,' an anxious press officer warns me before my audience with David Byrne, one-time wild-eyed leader of the thinking person's rock group. And why should he have to? Though Byrne will always remain the twitchy oddball immortalised in Stop Making Sense, Jonathan Demme's film portrait of the band, it's been 10 years now since he formally dissolved the Heads. Since then, he's released four fine solo albums and a whole heap more by other people on his splendidly eclectic Luaka Bop label. Though his conversational style remains jerky, full of pregnant pauses and rearrangements of his lanky limbs, Byrne is no longer the angst-soaked figure of old. Slim, dapper and with a brush of platinum-grey hair, at 48 he remains in dauntingly good shape, looking as much like a Cornell mathematics professor as a pop star. His ease is apparent on his new album, Look Into the Eyeball , whose dozen tightly constructed vignettes add up to the best record of his solo career. It is, I suggest, also his most personal record, lighter of touch, less... 'Paranoid?' offers Byrne, arcing an eyebrow. 'Yes, uh, yes, absolutely. My intention was that the songs have a melancholy edge while being uplifting and celebratory. For example, on 'Like Humans Do', which I guess is the single, I'm celebrating humans with all their faults. Yes, they're odd, dirty and disappointing, but they're OK; I'm gonna do my best to be like them.' Look Into the Eyeball, however, is not all light and forgiveness. The opener, 'UB Jesus', takes a well-aimed swipe at Christian fundamentalism, while 'Moment of Conception' rebels against the notion that we can blame all our faults on our genes, what Byrne describes as 'the sociopath's take on sin — it's not my fault'. Other tracks, like 'Everyone's In Love With You' and 'The Revolution', are carefully observed takes on the tics and conceits of human behaviour, all set to beautifully wrought string arrangements from a well-chosen list of collaborators and underpinned by subtle Latin rhythms. Given the brevity of its songs - several of them clock in at under three minutes - and its lyrical poise, it's a surprise to learn that the album was intended as a series of lengthy instrumentals, and that Byrne habitually writes his music first, words second. 'I've got nothing to say most of the time,' he shrugs. 'I don't think, "Here's what's troubling me, I'm gonna write a song about it". I use a stream-of-consciousness approach; if you don't censor yourself, you end up with what you're most concerned about, but you haven't filtered it through your conscious mind. Then you craft it.' Making his own music, though, has become a part-time job for Byrne. Luaka Bop is no vanity project, but a business responsible for a series of inspired releases — most reflecting Byrne's passion for all things Latin — and a roster that includes Brazilian singer/poet Tom Zé, Peruvian singer Susana Baca, militant Mexican rockers Los De Abajo and Southern surrealist Jim White. Don't, however, mention the 'w' word, for which Byrne's contempt was eloquently expressed in an article for the New York Times, provocatively titled 'Why I Hate World Music'. A long-time New York resident, Byrne lives, as he puts it, 'above the shop', meaning Luaka Bop employees sometimes arrive at the office to find the boss there in his pyjamas. 'I try to devote my afternoons to making music in my home studio,' he says, 'but it's a lot more fun hanging out with musicians and friends, and trying subtly to influence a band than making your own stuff.' Then there are the various 'projects'. Back in the mid Eighties, when he directed True Stories, a portrait of real-life Texan mavericks, it seemed that Byrne might add a cinematic career to his musical portfolio. Various scripts have been developed. 'One got as far as being costed, but when it turned out it was a $10m art film, it got shelved. I don't like begging money from producers. If I hit a dead end I, think, "Oh, I'll write some songs instead". But when you get to do it, it's better than making a record; it's the biggest ego ride in the world.' Byrne, once dubbed 'rock's renaissance man' by Time (to his embarrassment), has kept other interests in play. He continues to take photos, retains a keen interest in the art world. He remains married to fashion designer Bonnie Lutz, with whom he has an 11-year-old daughter. 'Yeah, I'm still married; isn't that amazing?' he asks with apparently genuine surprise. 'The assumption is that your personal life has to be a mess to create, but how much chaos can you allow in before it takes over?' Does he never get nostalgic for the days when he could command a Time cover? 'Occasionally, I hanker for the time when I sold more records, but I don't sit and drool about it. When I do look at early footage of Talking Heads, I realise I was just a wreck. Mentally, I was a mess. I see this guy who was... well, I'm still far from being Mr Gregarious, but then I was just an emotional cripple whose only outlet was to get on stage. This is how I/he communicated. It's painful to watch.' With that, Byrne gives the fulsome laugh of a fully paid-up member of the human race. Look Into the Eyeball is released by Virgin Records on 7 May Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2003 - - - -
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