Rick Johnson, Creem, 3/82

The Catherine Wheel

David Byrne--what a creepy looking guy! Rogue eyeballs
and an Adam’s apple that calls its own shots. So stiff
that, if he stood in a draft, he’d twang (as Cher pointed
out in a recent Scooby Doo episode). Seems like he’s
coming to take you to his leader, or maybe on a suicide
Pepsi date.

A far off voice on the telephone told me that this Byrne
album is "more important than Jerry Harrison." Big deal.
So is Dacron, Bosom Buddies, new improved Lysol "I Love
My Carpet" and the square egg machine.

What are we to make of a bushel of songs commissioned
for a Broadway dance production? (Do I hear "mincemeat?")
Well, choreographer Twyla Tharp says her piece is about
"the horrible family, featuring images of love, war,
apocalypse and pineapples." Take that, Cricket Blake!

Byrne’s songs can be broken down into four categories.
Some like "His Wife Refused" and "What A Day That Was"
are fairly typical Talking Heads type tracks, with
totally unexpected blips and doots identifiable as
pretty stuff in the latter. Sounds like our boy’s
been playing his Devo albums upside down again.

More interesting are the instrumental cuts. "Big
Business" and "Two Soldiers" are friendly enough to
be used as background music in a transit authority
radio commercial. Ditto "Eggs In A Briar Patch,"
which has the extra play appeal of consenting vibes
until somebody starts playing tapes of either Walter
Brennan or George Wallace that were left over from
Byrne and Eno’s Bush Of Ghosts LP.

Speaking of the cold hand of Brian Eno, wait’ll you
hear what the credits refer to as his Prophet Scream
on "The Red House." Sounds like the Bloodless
Pharaohs throwing brass nail grooming kits and
magnetic backgammon pieces at a talking soda machine.

Even further out is "Cloud Chamber," featuring Byrne
on Kitchen Metals, a credit rarely seen on labels
other than K-tel. Boing, conk, p-toot, wacka, yovo,
klute, dinka-dinka it goes.

Final category is stinkers. "My Big Hands (Fall
Through The Cracks)" is a plain old dead man’s rap
and the aptly entitled "Poison" is the album’s think
piece. "When time is tight/Huh?" he sings, "You
can use it/Uh huh." Uh huh.

Also included is this declaimer for hard core fans:
"The time limitations of a single long-playing disc
do not allow for a complete presentation of this
work--all 73 minutes of songs and instrumentals.
The entire musical production is available only on
The Catherine Wheel cassette." That’s the first
and last time you’ll see a plug for tape on an
American record.

Nebraska, surprise naps, delighting your friends
with ceramic rabbits, diplomatic immunity at
dogtracks, Mac Davis, utility infielders...oh
yeah--other things more important than Jerry Harrison.