David Byrne: Look Into The Eyeball

DAVID BYRNE: LOOK INTO THE EYEBALL (2001)

1) U. B. Jesus; 2) The Revolution; 3) The Great Intoxication; 4) Like Humans Do; 5) Broken Things; 6) The Accident; 7) Desconocido Soy; 8) Neighborhood; 9) Smile; 10) The Moment Of Conception; 11) Walk On Water; 12) Everyoneʼs In Love With You.

General verdict: A musical interpretation of Davidʼs pension plan, but I certainly do not mean this in a condescending manner. (Plus, his pension plan probably got a nice fat boost from Microsoft!).

Two things really stick out in David Byrneʼs first album of new material in the 21st century: his defiantly new coat of silver-white hair, which would eventually make him look like the other Davidʼs (Lynchʼs) twin brother — and, of course, ʽLike Humans Doʼ, the song fondly or hatedly remembered by most users of Windows XP who ever tinkered around with its media player (Iʼve always been a Winamp person through and through, so I do not have as many haunting memories of the song as other people claim to have). It is not even clear what the message of ʽLike Humans Doʼ, a song written from the viewpoint of a foetus, has to do with Windows Media Player, unless it is meant to be some weirdly veiled plea to adopt a piece of software. But it did bring David Byrne into a lot of homes, including many people whoʼd never even heard of Talking Heads, and at least it was a decidedly less annoying partnership than Apple + U2.

That said, this record isnʼt nearly as fun as Feelings. On the whole, it is smoother and sweeter, giving us a far more pacified and good-vibe-oriented Byrne than last time around — an almost 100% turnaround from the gloomy desperation of the self-titled album, implying that David seems to have finally overcome his midlife crisis. There is an enormous list of session musicians, most of them classically trained, turning the album into a sea of chamber and symphonic pop crossed with the usual African-American and Latin rhythms that are all over the place, from Seventies-style soul-pop (ʽNeighborhoodʼ) to experimental neo-disco (ʽDesconocido Soyʼ). But there is no such immediate feel of diversity as last time around, largely because of the focused attention on strings arrangements and a largely unified mood all across the record.

Most of the songs are still well-written and quickly get through; it is just that their charm is all in melodic and lyrical subtleties, and does not tend to linger long after you have actually soaked in the song. The opening number, ʽU. B. Jesusʼ, starts out with a mysterious percussion rhythm that sounds like it came straight out of Tom Waitsʼ Rain Dogs-era textbook, and even the lyrics, seemingly making fun of the too overtly religious approach to life, are reminiscent of Tom — but the melodic melange of Latin rhythms, poppy strings, and gospel backing vocals is a classic bit of Byrne synthesis. Its only problem is that, like most of the stuff here, it feels a bit whimsical and even repetitive after a while. But the string riff is cool.

ʽLike Humans Doʼ is actually fairly indicative of the record at large — a pleasant, toe-tappingly catchy pop song with a lengthy and well-structured chorus, and an entertaining melody exchange between David and the accompanying strings and woodwinds. It is rather fluffy, though, even if it is an intelligent and endearing kind of fluff; I simply happen to feel so much more connection with David Byrneʼs lyrical hero when he is befuddled and terrified by stuff happening around him than when he gets all cutesy and cuddly, with a big childish grin all across his face (or all across whatever a developing foetus is supposed to have, in this particular case). Even so, there were times in the past when he was able to get all cuddly and cathartic at the same time — just roll back to ʽThis Must Be The Placeʼ for a brief while. ʽLike Humans Doʼ, in comparison, has no emotional peaks — its chorus is smoothly talkative and ends on a delicate question mark rather than a brusque exclamation point.

This is, however, merely an attempt to explain why this music no longer lifts me up: it still does a great job at holding me down while itʼs on, and I will be the first to admit the sorrowful beauty of the question "whoʼs still workinʼ on his masterpiece?" (ʽThe Great Intoxicationʼ), or of Davidʼs sentimental croon on ʽNeighborhoodʼ, whose music is all Seventiesʼ soul-pop but whose vocal and lyrical vibe is all Ray Davies, intimate and supportive optimism in the face of grim odds. On rare occasions, Byrne still allows himself to slip into a slightly more grayish mood, and it does not feel at odds with the rest of the album — ʽBroken Thingsʼ, the hardest rocking song on the album, is a piece of slow, grinding funk whose dark bass and aggressive power chords remind you that not all is well in the house of the aging Byrne City Dweller, but he is working on it.

I think the only piece here that we could all do without is ʽDesconocido Soyʼ, whose clumsy combo of disco-techno, Spanish lyrics, and psychedelic background vocals might technically be the most innovative cocktail on the album — but the effect is annoying, particularly since this puffed-up ball of dance energy feels stiff and unnatural against the smooth background of the other songs. Perhaps it is the kind of track that should rather be donated to some proper Latin artist, provided he or she agreed to take it in the first place.

The most satisfying thing about the record, though, is that David Byrne is still David Byrne — even when he is going all sunshine and rainbows on your ass, you know this is the one guy who will never succumb to cheap, one-dimensional sentimentalism. As the album closes with its most honey-dripping tune, BingCrosbishly-titled ʽEveryoneʼs In Love With Youʼ, a closer look at the lyrics shows that it is actually about ferocious jealousy ("I want to kill and kiss you too"), but good luck figuring that out from the basic emotional response to this sweet goodnight lullaby. These little things help explain why I am intermittently intrigued by this record, charmed by it, and then bored right out of my skull — not necessarily in that order. In any case, it is quite recommendable, but, like many others, it shows a formerly great artist comfortably settling in the overall nonchalance and foggy laziness of the new millennium — which, I guess, is at least much more honest than trying to defy Fate and be pretentious in the face of impossibility.