David Byrne: Feelings

DAVID BYRNE: FEELINGS (1997)

1) Fuzzy Freaky; 2) Miss America; 3) A Soft Seduction; 4) Dance On Vaseline; 5) The Gates Of Paradise; 6) Amnesia; 7) You Donʼt Know Me; 8) Daddy Go Down; 9) Finite = Alright; 10) Wicked Little Doll; 11) Burnt By The Sun; 12) The Civil Wars; 13) (Interlude); 14) They Are In Love.

General verdict: A solid return to form, even if the songs may require repeated listens to reveal themselves to you in all their complexity.

So either it is just that David was going through a really rough phase around 1994, or, perhaps, it was the No Talking Just Head debacle that shook him up and made him realize how far he had strayed from his musical identity — whatever the reason, Feelings is a damn good album that manages to correct most of the mistakes heʼd made on the self-titled David Byrne. There are no breakthroughs here, no serious attempts to invent some new synthesis, even despite the elements of collaboration with Morcheeba; but there are songs that bring back funky grooves, humor, and cool musical hooks, all the while retaining Byrneʼs usual depth and intelligence.

It all begins with ʽFuzzy Freakyʼ, easily Davidʼs catchiest and slinkiest tune in at least a decade: the combination of funky wah-wah guitar, menacing intonations in the verse melody and falsetto suspense in the chorus creates a weirdly sleazy atmosphere that could be decoded in a million different ways, given the lyrical vagueness — but each of these ways would be either offensive or provocative, considering that the chorus goes "itʼs summertime and the weeds are high, fuzzy freaky, funny family". The text is a mess, the melody is one big fuzzy wobble, the guitar solo, whoever is doing it, rips through the speakers in sharp, treble-soaked wailing waves... basically, itʼs alive, which is more than could be said about anything on the first record.

 

From there, the album takes us on a little journey through different territories. Byrneʼs love for Latin American rhythms comes back into play (ʽMiss Americaʼ, ʽThey Are In Loveʼ), while Morcheeba helps him develop a new love for trip-hop (ʽDance On Vaselineʼ). There are quiet sentimental ballads (ʽA Soft Seductionʼ), string-led chamber pieces (ʽFinite = Alrightʼ), loud psychedelic pop anthems (ʽThe Gates Of Paradiseʼ), at least one song that sounds like a tribute to the Velvet Undergroundʼs ʽVenus In Fursʼ (ʽDaddy Go Downʼ), and at least one song that shows David may have developed a special love for old friend Adrian Belewʼs brand of intellectual-idealistic pop (ʽBurnt By The Sunʼ). All of these tunes have something to offer by way of both melody and lyrics, even if they never rise to the heights of Talking Headsʼ best material.

ʽMiss Americaʼ is probably the one song that gets the most mentions on the album because of its near-manifesto status: "I love America, her secretʼs safe with me" — David discussing, with a surprisingly high level of candor, his complicated love-and-hate relationship with the country that sheltered him from childhood (and donʼt we all, really?). Musically, however, it is not the most interesting track, essentially sounding like a potential outtake from Rei Momo or Uh-Huh sessions: its samba rhythms make a nicely joyous counterpoint to the half-sincere, half-sarcastic lyrics, but for musical inspiration, Iʼd rather go to something like ʽDance On Vaselineʼ, which combines a small pinch of Remain In Light jerkiness with echoey brass creating the kind of dusky atmosphere you find on Miles Davisʼ Bitches Brew — and is also far more enigmatic from a lyrical standpoint (come to think of it, "come preacherman, shoot me with your poisoned arrow, but I dance on Vaseline" is one of the most weirdly articulated statements of freedom and immunity to come from a human mind).

On the other hand, Byrneʼs Feelings are clearly meant to be expressed here in such a way that words and melody are just about 50-50 important. A song like ʽThe Gates Of Paradiseʼ, for instance, without its verbal content balances between soft, cuddly verses, caressing your ear with Davidʼs sweetest crooning and a warmly ambient organ pattern, and all-out ecstatic choruses of exuberant joy, climaxing in a frenetic psychedelic guitar solo at the end. At the same time, the words are pure, undiluted cynicism: "Itʼs a sin to seek perfection / Itʼs a sin to help the poor / Itʼs a sin to hold convictions / For none of them are true" — only a very seriously pissed-off person could have come up with something as brash as that. Amazingly, the song, especially its ecstatic coda, has somehow triggered in my mind an association with Fleetwood Macʼs ʽEyes Of The Worldʼ — another musically similar «ode to joy» whose actual lyrics are a rant against deceit and hypocrisy. Great minds deviate alike?..

The more you listen to the record, the more you begin to understand that, perhaps, the gloomy and depressed frame of mind that was so much on display in the self-titled album had never really gone anywhere — it is just that David took better control of himself and returned to that complex state of ambiguity, where the complexity, diversity, and occasionally optimistic mood-setting of the music made all the gloom and depression sound less self-important, more ironic, and, ulti­mately, far more poignant and influential. You know that he is pissed off if the verse melody of ʽBurnt By The Sunʼ hits you on precisely the same beats as Bob Dylanʼs ʽHurricaneʼ — but he is not above outbalancing the anger with sweet Belew-ish nostalgia when it gets to the chorus ("we were burnt by the sun, having way too much fun..."). In short, we have quite a few of those onion layers on each of these songs, and thatʼs the way it should be. Damn good record.