Like a good hit of a drug,
Adrian Belew continued to be passed around throughout the late 70s. After
his stint with Zappa, he toured with Bowie. Adrian retreated to
Springfield Illinois to start a new band GaGa after his time
with Bowie was over. GaGa was offered to open for Robert
Fripp's then group The League of Gentlemen. Somewhere in that hubbub Adrian was
offered the chance by Brian Eno to record some solos for what
was then Talking Head's soon to be newest album Remain in
Light. After the sessions, Adrian was added to the expanded touring
line-up and played along with the band.
Sadly, his relationship with
the members would not end favorably. Drummer and Bassist Chris and Tina
pitched that Adrian should replace frontman David Byrne in the
band as their relationship with David had begun to sour. Although he
declined Adrian would commit to recording and helping write songs for Chris and
Tina's side project Tom Tom Club. Sadly, Adrian's writing
credits were left off the liner notes and most of his parts were edited out.
It is a shame really, and
begs the question of what could have been. Fortunately for Mr. Belew he
would be given an offer to join the resurrected King Crimson shortly
after. Talking Heads would go on to further glory, and
further in-fighting before completely imploding in 1988. Perhaps it is
all for the best, as the seemingly humble Adrian would not have been a strong
fit with the pretentious and ego driven Talking Heads.
Fortunately though, from this relationship, as short as it was, we received a
true juggernaut of an album, Remain in Light
Remain in Light
Sometime ago Ryan and myself
were at a terrible bar in Bloomington on a hot summer night discussing greatest
albums of all time. At the time I was proposing that Sgt.
Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was not indeed the crowned jewel of
the modern musical world. While a revolutionary piece, I argued, it had
been surpassed in its ambition and depth. At the time, Remain in
Light was my proposed offering for the crown.
Remain in Light does so many things
right that it is hard to describe actually. It's not so much an album as
it is a musical challenge to the then decaying pop-rock formula. Talking
Heads always had a tendency to be a bit too clever for their own good,
trying to write their thesis, before finishing the first week of 101. As
much as I love them, they have an alienating persona that can scare away anyone
who isn't drinking beer "for flavor" at the local bar and wearing a
tweed jacket. David Byrne's often
awkward and off putting presentation was perfect for anyone who
was not interested in wooing someone, but rather discussing the latest books to
hit the shelves. Their first two albums '77 and More
Songs About Buildings and Food were albums for fans of rock music that
wanted more than what was out there. The music was smart, but not
progressive rock, and it could also be fun and raw while not being punk.
It was an intelligent form of music that has many imitators, but few
succeed in the sincere approach Talking Heads perfected;
instead coming off pretentious and snoody.
Fear of Music their third
full release was the indication that the band was shifting towards something
new, and that different songs were on their turn table than other bands.
While other rock-smiths listened to other bands, or classical music, Talking
Heads were jamming out to African melody's and protest songs. Fela
Kuti's Zombie and Water Get No Enemy must
have been played endlessly in their hip New York apartments. Fear of
Music's opener I Zimbra was the perfect indication that
the band was going to be moving far away from their roots and into uncharted
waters.
Although on that
hot muggy day in Bloomington I argued that Remain in Light was
indeed the greatest album ever I must admit in many ways it is a complete failure
as a pop-rock album. This also is part of the argument for its grandeur.
If Fear of Music's critical fault was the inability to full
make the leap into something new then Remain in Light is
indeed the manifestation of that ambition. The songs do not fit in the
traditional rock mold that Talking Heads had no problem
abiding by before. Instead catchy Africana rhythms entrance the listener
into some strange hybrid of rock music and Afro-beat. The guitar riffs
have a unique swing to them that seemingly breaks the tried and true 4/4 mold
(admittingly I am not expert on time signatures). They seemingly go on
forever before you realize that they are indeed repeating and building off
themselves. It is not so blatant on the first go around since the song structure
does not fall into the traditional western musical schema. The complex
layering and looping of the instruments involved, which by this point there
were plenty of, provides an almost hypnotic like music that is easy to get lost
into. Yet it is not overly pretentious or pleased with itself to where
you would ignore it for something a bit more digestible. Challenging?
Yes, but in an encouraging way. As the listener you notice there
are enough familiarities with which to hang on to.
Looking at the
first song Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On) these points
are quite apparent. The instrumentation has a very smooth feel which is
very reminiscent of Fela Kuti's big bands. The only
indication that the music is indeed repeating riffs is the abrasive three drum
hits that indicate the repeating of the melody. It is almost as if the
band is saying "just so you know, this is where we repeat."
Tina Weymouth at this point had finally learned more than a few notes
and was contributing considerably more to the music providing bass that was
especially punchy, rich. Frontman David Byrne still
off-puts the listener with his unique vocal demeanor. Although it does
seem that he has gained some more confidence in his voice, accepting his role
as a quirky front man. His lyrics too also seem to be less blatant and
about deeper things than his tuna sandwich, paper, or a fire hydrant. He
was opting to take swings at political ideas and life meanings. The song,
at nearly six minutes, is one of the longest they had ever done, and is pushing
the limits of the normal pop-rock formula. It would be easy for the song
to get stale quickly, but its unique instrumentation provides a hypnotic
formula that encapsulates the listener, making the song feel eternal, but
constantly refreshing all at the same time. Adrian Belew's unique guitar work provides some out of left field
dissonance which is accompanied by David's odd shrieking and hollering.
Crosseyed and
Painless is an odd duck in the album, being considerably more
structured and traditional compared to the rest of the material, as if it was
thought from the Fear of Music days. It could be argued
that it does not fit in with the mold here, but I completely disagree.
The backing percussion instruments still add a lively variation to the
pop-rock format that was rapidly turning to synthesizers and drum machines for
assistance. Crosseyed's more structured approach provides a safety
net for the listener. Its simpler format, with driving bass and simple
drum pattern, helps ease the listener after the immensely challenging opener.
As if a mother cooing her upset child, the song gives enough classic Talking
Heads nods to remind you that the band still had those four oddballs
from New York City. It's a necessary addition, as without it the album
may have been too difficult for the casual listener.
The trends that
started with Born under Punches commence with TheGreat Curve a riff happy jam full of extra percussion pieces and
synthesizers. It is my personal favorite, doing a fantastic job of
swelling and relaxing as it careens across its near 7 minute landscape. Adrian
Belew's guitar solos anchor the song with his signature madness, but it
works as a stark contrast to the rest of the music, somewhat akin to dropping Thurston Moore in the middle of a
Native American drum circle. It's nearly comical how Adrian's work is no
longer just background chaos, but rather a familiar sound that keeps the album
from going too far into pretentiousness. The backing singers chant
"Wanna define...so say so, so say so" nearly endlessly as the song
comes to a close. It is difficult to comprehend what is happening the
first go around, with David Byrne's musings, background chanting,
Adrian's wailing guitar, and the poly-rhythmic backing groove. The song
commands multiple listens, possibly one right after the other. The only
fault with that plan, however, is that it prevents you from indulging in the
entirety of the album.
Once in aLifetime is a track most people know in one form or another. It has
appeared in movies, commercials, karaoke nights, and on your radio. At
the time it was one of their most successful singles ever composed. It's
maddeningly catchy, and it is a great track to sing along to. Most
classic rock fans will be able to shout along "Same as it ever was"
with you, whether they have any idea what is else is going on in the song.
It's peculiar, however, since when you break down the song nothing about
it fits pop sensibilities. The track for the majority of its existence is
synth ambiance, a bass line, and David Byrne musing about life. The
refrain does provide a bit more structure with a guitar hook and more prominent
drumming, but the majority has little form as it drifts aimlessly as a canvas
for Byrne to just ramble about whatever he wants. I'm sure this worked
greatly in his favor as he is pretty amazed with himself and his own thoughts.
Once in a Lifetime is also what I consider to be the end of
the first half of the album, despite it not technically being the half-way
point.
What do I mean by
this? Well, Remain in Light is really broken into two
halves, like two EPs combined into one album. The two halves are greatly
different, with the first half being upbeat if not meandering and the second
being more experimental and brooding. Once in a Lifetime and
the follow-up Houses in Motion are great bridges to both
halves, both being on the extremes of each end with the former being more open
and loose for the upbeat half and the latter having the most form of the second
half. Adrian Belew's howling guitar adds the vibe of jungle
animals in Houses in Motion as the song sprawls along its way.
The mellow riffing clashes with the hard hitting bass and crisp hi-hat
and horns. It provides similar motifs as the previous tracks, but in a
much darker tone. You can feel the album changing direction drastically
tonally, but what does not change is the style, continuing with the Afro-Beat
mentalities and ethos that it set out with.
This is something
that the album succeeds so well in, and is a point missed by so others. Talking
Heads picked a musical Idea here and never let go of it throughout the
entire album. What is more, throughout this short adventure they
reinvented that concept over and over. On paper, yes, it is easy to think
that a rock band trying to do African style music would be painful and
unpleasant after say two tracks, but here that is not the case. Talking
Heads seemed to have gotten the memo that you can not rely on a
musical concept (or Gimmick) too much before it becomes stale and unpleasant.
Rush's 80's albums became impossibly painful to listen to because
they had no idea how to progress their synthesizer work beyond just having a
synthesizer. Can's last few albums were a mess since they had no
idea how to evolve what they believed were pop and world music sounds. Talking
Heads took one concept and remade it eight times in one album.
Each song is strongly different from the other, yet they all have
musically thematic similarities that bind them. You will be hard pressed
to find an album that does that concept so seamlessly.
After Houses
in Motion comes the closing trio Seen and Not Seen, The
Listening Wind, and The Overload. Each track alone would
be an odd song in any past or future Talking Heads album, but
the three together are a strong strange force. Houses in Motion can
not properly prepare the listener for what comes next. The funk recedes
while the mood inducing soundscapes evolve into more complex arrangements.
One could argue that these last three songs have a strong presence from BrianEno, who did have his part in this album. The tracks as well sound at
home in Byrne's first solo album My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (Which also featured, you guessed it Adrian
Belew Brian Eno). Again, on paper, none of these tracks sound
commercially viable or pleasant to a casual listener, but they work quite well,
as the band seems to know how to reign in the overly alienating nature of the
works. Byrne muses about the idea of a man changing his face in Seen
and Not Seen in a disturbingly vivid way. Each statement is
followed by keyboards (or is it Adrian? You never know when he is
around....is that painfully obvious yet?) creating a whoosh of notes that makes
visualizing the idea so easy. One's mind's eye can vividly picture a
person, perhaps themselves, changing their face to match their ideal structure.
You might imagine
that perhaps the songs begin to lighten up after Seen and Not Seen,
but you would be incredibly wrong. The album continues to go further down
its own rabbit hole; scaling back further the cyclical riffing of the beginning
tracks into a more trance like percussion concept. During The Listening Wind Various unnerving
sounds build and deconstruct around the simple, albeit layered percussive
pieces. It's haunting and mesmerizing, giving the listener the feeling of
being lost or feeling uneasy in their surroundings. Upon my first few
listens I was floored as to how a song could so easily make me feel out of
place in my comfortable surrounding of a college campus in the day time.
The day time partying of Crosseyed and Painless is gone
and replaced with a disoriented night time stumble home. This all comes
to a crashing end with The Overload which builds off the
previous song’s concept. Distorted instruments create an electronic
disturbance that almost makes you forget how much fun you were having at the
beginning of the album. It is a haunting low point to end on, leaving you
with a very unpleasant and uncomfortable feeling. This does not mean the
song is bad at all though, but rather doing its job perfectly.
You would never
imagine an album that starts so wildly could end so solemnly and leave you with
such a morose feeling. Not only that, but you would never imagine a Talking
Heads album would go this far. Perhaps during Stay
Hungry they pulled you in that direction, but they were always careful
to treat you with a sense of care and remind you that you are listening to rock
music. Here, no punches are being held back, but even with that said,
they know not to go too far into their own disturbing playground and completely
alienate their listening base.
That last thought
is what I find so perfect about this album. The members of Talking
Heads really pushed their listeners here, and it barely seemed that
they could care if anyone bought their album. Even comparing it to Fear
of Music it is apparent how much of a leap the band made in sound,
style, and vision. Few bands ever undergo such a radical transition, yet
still maintain some nods to their iconic sound. This was even true in
their live set-up where the band didn't expand as much as they exploded from
four members to nine, adding backing singers, keyboards, percussion, and even a
second bassist! Talking Heads made a grand shift in sound and
vision from this point forward, exploring a plethora of musical styles and
sounds up until their undramatic demise.
Beyond the change
for the band itself this album was also a leap for pop-rock too. The
conventional formula had been shattered by a daring new concept of layering
rhythms and world music. While tragically the rest of the rock world
opted to grow out their hair, glam up, and wear lots make-up some bands took
nods from Remain in Light's worldly changes such as King
Crimson and Paul Simon, each giving nods to the
concepts Talking Heads introduced. It may be a bit
presumptuous to say that they pioneered the melding of African poly-rhythms and
rock music, but you would be hard pressed to find a different band or album
that brought so blatantly to the forefront of others attention. The
legacy it left behind for the band, its members, and their peers can hardly be
measured, but only noted in the imitators that followed. Bands like Vampire
Weekend owe much to Remain in Light's smart and ambitious
direction.
All of these
reasons sum up why on that hot summer day in that unfortunate bar in Indiana I
proposed that Remain in Light deserves to hold the title of
greatest album. It is more than what it does, which it does so well, but
also what created, and what it did for its listeners. It's complex yet
engaging music and lyrics encourage the listener to take their music listening
to a higher level, yet, somehow, never force it. It can be enjoyed at a
surface level, or absorbed at a deeper one. It is timeless, it is
blissful, it is perfect.
You must buy this
album.
Adrian Belew would head
to his final destination after his brief stint in Talking Heads,
which is where our last stop will be on our trip. Out from the light in
the darkest cavern of music; the court of the Crimson King. Will Adrian
survive? Find out next time as we discover Discipline.
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