Vikings & Beekeepers

I know it seems that every other post I make on Vikings & Beekeepers is intended to be a new series (Alphabetical iPod Diary, Pain For Pleasure, Overrated/Underrated), but I really get the feeling this one’s going to stick.

As voraciously as some people like to ingest the musical landscape, it’s downright impossible to keep up with everything ­– it’s part of the reason actively discovering and listening to music can be so daunting, there are always stones left unturned. Even the oversized boulders get passed up from time to time. As much as I love to devour music at a gluttonous rate, there is so much out there that I haven’t heard, and some of those albums have been thoroughly canonized and are considered to be quite essential and/or important in their own right. There are several factors why a person may have missed out on these kinds of big-ticket albums, and probably the biggest reason is generational (although there a million other reasons like genre ignorance, passive, non-committal listening or just plain old, ugly contrarianism). I began really listening to music in the 90s, which meant I had several decades’ worth of beloved, groundbreaking and historical music to catch up on. Which means every year leads to new discoveries, but that pile of “yet to listen to albums” has hardly been dented.So that’s essentially what I’m aiming to do here. Let’s get all our bases covered. Let’ check our blind spots.While I’ll typically cover highly regarded albums that for some reason or another I have let slip through my fingers (and believe me, as much as I love music, I can think of dozens of huge, incredibly popular albums off the top of my head that I can and will cover), I’m going to kick this feature off with something a little different: a movie.The film in question is Jonathan Demme’s 1984 Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense. Being a huge fan of Talking Heads, I’ve owned and enjoyed the soundtrack (essentially a live album) for years, but it wasn’t until recently, in the wake of seeing former Heads front man David Byrne live (one of the best shows of my life, by the way), that I deemed it necessary to hunt down this highly regarded film. I guess I was always vaguely interested in seeking the film out, but being content with the mere music on the soundtrack, I never made it a priority. After seeing Byrne put on a huge, heart-warming, excessively intriguing and entertaining performance the other night in Edmonton, however, hunting down the now 25 year old film became a must.Listening to the album first and watching the film second seems incredibly backwards, which was made all the more apparent when I actually watched the film, discovering just how much emphasis Byrne, Demme and co. put on the visual aspect of the performance, let alone an actual visual narrative. When Byrne opens the concert, alone, with an acoustic version of “Psycho Killer” I was able to kind of accurately picture how that all went down (Byrne walks out alone with a boombox, cues up a minimalist drum track, and proceeds to commence with the group’s first ever song), but when Byrne begins staggering around during the drum track breakdown, I get ashamed of myself for what I’ve been missing by only having heard mere soundtrack.

There were moments like that throughout Stop Making Sense – moments where what is seen is so much more vital than what is heard. And I’m not just talking about the infamous Big Suit or Byrne’s own peculiar dance moves (although those are certainly worth the price of admission alone), there are really amazing moments – some subtle, some overt – that truly transcend the music. I’m thinking of moments like bassist Tina Weymouth’s funky dance during the Tom Tom Club’s “Genius Of Love.” Or when a “stage right” camera catches a profile view of Byrne, Weymouth and guitarist Jerry Harrison unintentionally locking into sync with each other, darting back and forth on the stage during “Found A Job.” Or the extended jogging session on “Life During Wartime.” Or the brief shot of affable everyman drummer Chris Frantz shaking the sweat off his face while effortlessly maintaining the beat on the frantic “Crosseyed & Painless.” Or the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it look of sheer humane joy that comes over Byrne’s face during his Fred Astaire tribute with a house lamp on the album and movie highlight “This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody).” Needless to say, there are a lot of really terrific moments to see as well as hear.

Of course, there are moments that kind of ruin what I had originally visualized when listening to the album. Perhaps most disappointing was learning that Weymouth does not, in fact, share vocals with Byrne on their “duet” of “Heaven,” but instead those chillingly powerful female vocals are provided by an offstage back-up singer. In the case of “Heaven,” what you’re hearing is a lovely, haunting rendition that out-paces the original, but what you’re seeing is Byrne singing while Weymouth stands there providing a superfluous bass line. Speaking of Weymouth, one of the great crush-worthy ladies in the realm of rock music, what the hell is with the blimp attire? So angular. So unbecoming. So 1984. Luckily Weymouth makes a much-needed wardrobe change during the concert’s intermission.Weymouth’s not the only one guilty of a fashion faux pas. Say what you will about the Big Suit, but at least it’s interesting and iconic. Unfortunately, at one point, Byrne opts to remove his Big Jacket, leaving only his skinny upper frame and his comical Big Pants. David Byrne is one of the coolest guys in the history of American rock, but without the full Big Ensemble, he ends up looking like one of those skinny guys with big, dumpy man-gunts (Genis? Gock?). The results are a tad bit distracting.

Of course, any talk about the preeminent concert film of the 80s (with apologies to U2) can’t be had without contrasting it with the preeminent concert film of the 70s, The Last Waltz. As much as I love Martin Scorssese and the Band’s classic film, I can’t help but feel that Stop Making Sense holds up more favorably. The main reason for that is because, unlike The Last Waltz, Stop Making Sense isn’t hampered by any Spinal Tap-ish rock clichés (“life on the road” sermonizing, coked out babbling, sequin jump suits, vein popping solo faces). Every aspect of Stop Making Sense feels deliberate and purposeful, planned and prepared, but also never lacking in spontaneity. The performances are tighter, the filmmaking less pretentious and the focal point (David Byrne vs. Robbie Robertson) more in tune with what’s actual important in each individual song. While the camera seems to be in love with Robertson (who receives close-up after close-up of him singing his heart out, despite the fact that Robertson’s mic was permanently set in the ‘off’ position, lest anyone hear his tuneless croak over one of the better singers) in The Last Waltz, Stop Making Sense is more democratic in who gets screen time.

With that said, Byrne remains front-and-centre. He is the Talking Heads. (Not to disrespect Frantz, Harrison and Weymouth, none of whom should be looked over – and also none of whom should be pitied. Frantz and Weymouth hit big as the Tom Tom Club. Their “Genius Of Love” out-charted all Talking Heads songs at the time of its release and has become one of the most frequently sampled songs in hip hop history – royalties baby! Harrison on the other hand made his millions by producing Live’s Throwing Copper – royalties baby! Scoff at Live’s undeniable awfulness, but Harrison’s cred will never be in question since he was an original member of the Modern Lovers prior to joining the Talking Heads.) Stop Making Sense is ostensibly about David Byrne. Whether that’s Byrne the man or Byrne the character is debatable, but what’s not debatable is Byrne’s ability to engage and inspire, despite being such an odd presence. Even Byrne the singer is more than you could possibly imagine. Byrne’s never boasted a particularly traditional or pretty voice, but man oh man can he hit the big notes with fervor and purity – whether he be 31 or 56 (again, just watch or even listen to his performance on “This Must Be The Place”).

While I fear that merely listening to the soundtrack will seem inefficient from now on, I can’t deny that watching Stop Making Sense was a fruitful, immensely pleasurable experience. There is something to be said for watching a wonderful band at its peak, being given a grander scope, allowing the Talking Heads to maybe even outpace themselves for a brief moment. Jonathan Demme’s visual touch is tastefully exquisite, allowing Byrne and co. to showcase not only a Big Suit, but Big Ideas, Big Ambition and Bigtime Talent. It’s no wonder that Demme opted not to film any of the audience members until the very end of the show; everything you’d ever want in a musical performance is up there on the stage. We don’t need to be shown that this is something special. We can see it for ourselves. I’m glad I was finally able to see it, too.

Next Time: Jeff Buckley’s Grace

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 5th, 2009 at 3:01 pm and is filed under Music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.