Archives for posts with tag: Talking Heads

Memories Can’t Wait, 2013

Listening Wind, 2013

Seen and Not Seen, 2012

This was taken somewhere off High Holborn in London, UK.

Seen and Not Seen  is the sixth track on Talking Heads 1980 album, Remain In Light.

The album was the third and final that the band co-produced with Brian Eno, and arguably their artistic zenith (the next studio album, Speaking In Tongues (1983) used more straightforward funk strategies, the one after, Little Creatures (1985) was a pop album). The songs were built on improvisations, African polyrhythms and samples & loops (which were big news in those days). The band brought in loads of session players and sonic ingenuity was bingo! theirs.

It’s undoubtedly a great album and features my favourite track by Talking Heads, The Great Curve, but for my money More Songs About Buildings and Food is a stranger album by far (and therefore more interesting).

Any road up, here’s Seen and Not Seen, The Great Curve, and The Girls Want To Be With The Girls.

The CD this track comes from is somewhere in the bedroom – the house is a bit of a mess at the moment…

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Thanks to John and Deanne and Terry for title shenanigans and Richard at CK Ponderings for being a super-cool collaborator. Our next collaboration will be posted tomorrow – watch this space.

Untitled digital photograph, 2012

Untitled digital photograph, 2012

Untitled digital photograph, 2012

Untitled digital photograph, 2012

Untitled digital photograph, 2012

Air (for Nikki Light), 2012

1979’s Fear of Music was Talking Heads’ third LP, and their second with Brian Eno as co-producer. It came wrapped in a black cover with an embossed pattern reminiscent of checker plate metal flooring, designed by the band’s Jerry Harrison. There are a number of tracks with one word titles: Mind, Paper, Cities, Air, Heaven, Animals and Drugs.

When I got round to buying it in 1985, (having been entranced by a documentary on the band, which pre-dated Stop Making Sense, and featured footage of the band in rehearsal and live, interspersed with clips of TV evangelists, disasters, planes landing etc), it seemed like the most intelligent, dark, minimal, conceptual, artistically relevant LP I’d ever heard. Something about its urgent urbanity  tripped switches in my brain. I was living with my parents in Kings Worthy, a suburb of Winchester, and desperate to get out and do something real. The message I took from the album was that city dwelling was rich and strange and full of mystery. It was one of a few factors in making me decide to come and live in London, for which I am very grateful David Byrne et al. Now, I’m going to give the CD a spin.

If you want to know more about the LP, there’s a very good Wikipedia entry here.

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RIP Maurice Sendak