Listening to Talking Heads feels like when you have a weird itch in your mouth but, like, not in your mouth. You know the feeling. And you have to scratch it by sticking your finger in your ear and shaking it while simultaneously rubbing your tongue around the phantom spot on your soft palate—nyah nyah nyah nyah. You can't really explain it, but it just feels good, man.
I got into Talking Heads late in life. I knew the hits, but most of their back catalog was a mystery until just a few years ago. Better late than never! This is music for people who love a good Wikipedia rabbit hole, so it's right up my alley. One minute, you're sitting down to enjoy some music; the next thing you know, you're reading about the German Dadaist poet Hugo Ball, who provided the nonsensical lyrics for "I Zimbra." Fun and educational! It's also weirdly good music to listen to while working. I had an incredibly productive week while listening to this album on repeat. Coincidence?
Yes, David Byrne isn't a very good singer by technical standards. He wouldn't win The Masked Singer (an image that has tickled me to no end—comment below what you think his character would be!). Regardless, his vocal magnetism keeps you hooked track after track. I look forward to the line "This ain't no Mudd Club or CBGB" every time "Life Under Wartime" comes on because I love the way he sings "CEEbeeGEEbee." It scratches that itch. Similarly but opposite, I feel a sense of unease as "Animals" comes on because the chanting makes me uncomfortable. It's raw, dirty, visceral, but I can't look away (with my ears).
It's the kind of music I wish I had gotten into long ago. Maybe I could have devoted just a little less time to Death Cab for Cutie, but never mind that. The education continues!
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