David Byrne is an interesting guy, and multitalented. As the
leader of the Talking Heads, he always seemed a bit quirky in a smart,
sophisticated, ironic sort of way. This book, essentially a collection of
essays on his own career in music as well as music itself, is an excellent
read. Part autobiography, part treatise on music in relation to performance
spaces, technology, neuroscience, and society, the book is readable, insightful
and well researched. This 2017 edition adds one chapter not included in the
original 2012 printing.
Chapters investigate musical styles and the effects on music
of the environments in which the performances take place (Chapter 1), how we
choose what we listen to (Chapter 5), and how to sell music in today’s
environment as well as how things used to work (Chapter 8). Other essays
explore how new music can be encouraged by the “scene” that encourages
performers (Chapter 9, mostly a explanation of why CGBG became a famous hole in
the wall), a great treatise on financial support for the musical arts, music
therapy and the social fabric of our relationship with music (Chapter 10), and
a summary that touches on our personal experience of music, looking at
neuroscience and social factors (Chapter 11).
The more autobiographical sections focus on Byrne’s
performance (Chapter 2), his recordings, including several interesting insights into
how recordings have changed (Chapter 6), and his collaborations with a wide
variety of musicians from different genres since his days with Talking Heads
(Chapter 7).
Two chapters (3 and 4) explore how Technology Shapes Music,
and it’s a concise history of analog and digital technology’s
effect on music and performance since the beginning of recorded music in the
early 20th century. It is a nice overview, intriguing and a bit
controversial at times. Byrne makes some excuses for digital sound
quality, but overall he handles the progression through the last century and a
quarter with aplomb. This section applies
his research to both how we listen to music as well as how it is recorded and
played back, and how these technologies interact with performance.
There is none of the dirt dishing about band members that
fill many rocker’s autobiographies, and there is no real attempt at explanation
of why he’s such a brilliant guy. And those, along with many other qualities,
make this a book that probably shouldn’t be considered an autobiography at all.
It’s brilliant, it’s engaging, it’s original and fun to
read. And you'll probably learn something, too.
