Voyager, july 1994

David Enryb

If you've got a favorite restaurant, chances are
you eat there as often as you can. But that doesn't
mean you subsequently offer to fill in for the chef,
does it? Well, here's good news: David Byrne is
cooking at home again.

The generally high quality of the idiosyncratic,
global albums released on Byrne's Luaka Bop label
identify the former leader of Talking Heads as a
credible connoisseur. And yet, on two post-Heads
solo albums, Rei Momo (1989) and Uh-Oh (1992), Byrne
abandoned his own twitchy talents to stir up a
peculiarly watery recipe for salsa. Now he's back
on native turf.

For one, Byrne's spare new band is a welcome relief
from the cluttered, horn-heavy ensembles previously
gathered. (Having his old pal Arto Lindsay coproduce
and spray noise guitar all over a couple tracks
helped.) As Byrne himself explains on "Back in the
Box," he's been cocooning: "I need an oasis / A place
to hide from the day / I'd like a little dark tiny room
/ Where the music plays." Lest one forget, Talking Heads
were the founders of punk's school of ironic detachment.
And the dance that one does when ironically detached is
best performed with both feet firmly planted on the
floor to stripped-down music that stops, starts, and
speeds up abruptly.

Alas, the pinched rhythm guitar and snappy snare drum
of "Angels" the album's first single, are so pleasingly
reminiscent of defining Heads hits like "Life During
Wartime" that one is reluctant to continue on. Likewise,
there's no ignoring that the otherwise catchy "Back in
the Box" relies on the exact same groove that fueled
the Heads' "Girlfriend Is Better." But fear not the
music, as David Byrne bravely proceeds down roads
left uncleared since Talking Heads traded crazed for
coy (by my reckoning, from True Stories on).

No longer practicing cross-cultural cryogenics, Byrne
simply dashes David Byrne with essences brought back
from his musical travels. Strange Ritual meanders along
in a vaguely continental mode; on "Lilies of the
Valley," Todd Turkisher's loose-joint drumming implies
funk without stealing soul. Of course, no amount of
explaining will convince me that Byrne is losing sleep
over the sentiments expressed in the latter song's
clever pro-choice and pro-immigration verses. After
all, he's a cool cat. See, he's got long hair on the
album cover. I mean, the guy's even got a marimba
player in his band!

From the Galumphing Gourmet to certified lounge
lizard in four years -- not so bad, is it?