Samuel LoveIf you were to judge Burning Down the House: Talking Heads and the New York Scene That Transformed Rock by its cover – and indeed, by its size – you may be fooled into thinking this the definitive, exhaustive biography that David Byrne, Chris Frantz, Tina Weymouth and Jerry Harrison have always deserved. But as you get deeper into its meandering text, you will soon be met with a hollow and strangely biting portrait of one of the most influential bands in modern music history.
There are parts of the Talking Heads tale that are as old as time – namely, the alleged tension between frontman Byrne and his bandmates, leading to their break-up in 1991. Jonathan Gould’s new book sheds little new light on these frustrations that haven’t already been shone – Frantz’ book Remain in Love already told his and Weymouth’s side of the story, while Byrne has been honest that he was difficult to work with (even if he does remain something of an enigma to this day). The band’s rise – from their first gig 50 years ago at iconic venue CBGB, through the next two years refining their sound ready for their 1977 debut album, on to success through the 1980s – is told rather blandly with by-the-numbers structure and nothing particularly revelatory for longtime fans, but may well prove to be interesting enough for those who are just starting out on their Talking Heads journey.
The book’s USP, in theory, is its focus on not just the band but the era and city that birthed them. The titular “New York Scene that Transformed Rock” is delved into throughout, often in padded asides that do little more than push up the page count. It also often threatens to feel disconnected – like reading two books at once that occasionally crossover. There’s a lot of fluff here that becomes a slog and makes the book feel like a chore to get through. But what is more difficult to get through is the bizarrely bitchy prose from Gould as he routinely slags off so many of the key players in the band’s story. As a big fan of keyboardist Jerry Harrison’s solo albums, I was a little shocked to see them lambasted in a book that should be celebrating them. “On The Red and the Black, the mediocrity of Jerry Harrison’s singing had served to mask the mediocrity of his lyric-writing”, Gould writes. “On Casual Gods, the marginal improvement in Harrison’s singing only called attention to the banality of the words he chose to sing.” And this is one of the kinder excerpts. Many other musicians and personalities of the era – including other members of Talking Heads; Frantz’ drumming is described as “exceptionally unimaginative” – are also victims of cruel little asides that feel oddly bitter and distracting.
Talking Heads remain one of the most-loved bands of their era, with a hugely successful recent re-release of 1984 concert flick Stop Making Sense a reminder of their power. But their legend has never been adequately told – and Gould’s uneven tome is just another misfire. On the one hand, there may be an argument to be made that Talking Heads defy explanation. Their unique and distinctive style and sound speaks for itself, and any attempt to go through the usual cookie-cutter story of the band’s art school beginnings may prove to add very little to it. But now, 50 years on from the band’s first performance, interest in Talking Heads remains as high as ever. If there were ever a time for their story to be told, it’s now.
Jonathan Gould’s book is a mixed bag. On the one hand, newcomers to the band’s story may very well get something from the basic (albeit plodding) narrative that captures their rise, but seasoned fans will find very little new insight and might become frustrated with some unusually prickly comments about key players. Ordinarily at this point in a review like this, I may very well redirect readers to a superior take on the story – but frankly, I’ve never been able to find one. For the best Talking Heads experience, boot up Stop Making Sense and lose yourself in the music – that film must be the place; this book certainly isn’t.
