“Fear Of Music” by Talking Heads (1979)
Release Date: August 3, 1979
Produced by Brian Eno, Talking Heads
Genre: New Wave, Post Punk, Rock, Art-Rock
Label: Sire
Chart Positions: #21 (US), #1 (Holland), #11 (New Zealand), #27 (Canada), #33 (UK), #35 (Australia)
Certifications: Gold (US)
Awards: N/A
Singles and Chart Positions:
“Life During Wartime” #80 (US)
“I Zimbra” #28 (US Dance)
“Cities” (No Chart Data)
Singles Certifications: N/A
Other Charting Tracks: N/A
Best Tracks: ALL TRACKS: This album is a staple of the 1970s and beyond. A must-have album for any music collector.
Trivia: Fear of Music is the third studio album by American new wave band Talking Heads, released on 3 August 1979 on Sire Records. It was recorded at locations in New York City between April and May 1979 and was produced by the quartet and Brian Eno (this was the second of three albums in which Eno worked with Talking Heads). The album reached number 21 on the Billboard 200 in the United States and peaked at number 33 on the UK Albums Chart. Three songs were released as singles between 1979 and 1980: "Life During Wartime", "I Zimbra", and "Cities". The record was certified Gold in the U.S. in 1985.
Fear of Music received favorable reviews from critics. Praise centered on its unconventional rhythms and frontman David Byrne's lyrical performances. The record is often considered one of the best Talking Heads releases. It has featured in several publications' lists of the best albums of all time. Britain's Channel 4 named the record at number 76 in its 2005 countdown of The 100 Greatest Albums. In 2006 it was remastered and reissued with four bonus tracks.
Talking Heads' second album More Songs About Buildings and Food, released in 1978, expanded the band's sonic palette. The record included a hit single, a cover of Al Green's "Take Me to the River", which gained the quartet commercial exposure. In March 1979, the band members played the song on nationwide U.S. music show American Bandstand. In the days after the performance, they decided they did not want to be regarded simply as "a singles machine". Talking Heads entered a New York City studio without a producer in the spring of 1979 and practiced demo tracks. Musically, the band wanted to expand on the "subtly disguised" disco rhythms present in More Songs About Buildings and Food by making them more prominent in the mixes of new songs. The recording plans were shelved after the quartet was not pleased with the results during the sessions. A decision was taken to rehearse in drummer Chris Frantz's and bassist Tina Weymouth's loft, where the band members played before they signed to a record label in the mid-1970s. Eno, who produced their previous full-length release, was called to help.
On 22 April and 6 May 1979, a Record Plant van manned by a sound engineering crew parked outside Frantz's and Weymouth's house and ran cables through their loft window. On these two days, Talking Heads recorded the basic tracks with Eno. Instead of incorporating characters in society like in More Songs About Buildings and Food, Byrne decided to place them alone in dystopian situations.Weymouth was initially skeptical of Byrne's decisions, but the frontman managed to persuade her. She has explained that Byrne's sense of rhythm is "insane but fantastic" and that he was key to the band's recording drive during the home sessions. As songs evolved, playing instrumental sections became easier for the band members. Eno was instrumental in shaping their sound and recording confidence and worked on electronic treatments of tracks once they were all crafted.
Fear of Music is largely built on an eclectic mix of disco rhythms, cinematic soundscapes, and conventional rock music elements. Album opener "I Zimbra" is an African-influenced disco track and includes background chanting from assistant recording engineer Julie Last.
The album begins with "I Zimbra", whose lyrics are based on a nonsensical poem by Dadaist writer Hugo Ball. The sound of lyrics, together with the tribal sound of the song, enhanced by guest star virtuoso guitarist Robert Fripp, gave it an "ethnic" style; Jerry Harrison has said that this song influenced what the band was to do on their next album, Remain in Light. "Cities" details a search for the perfect urban settlement to live in and was borne out of Talking Heads' preferences for urban homes, especially in Manhattan. "Paper" compares a love affair with a simple piece of paper. In "Life During Wartime", Byrne cast himself an "unheroic urban guerrilla", who renounced parties, survived on basic supplies like peanut butter, and heard rumors about weapons shipments and impromptu graveyards. The character is only connected to the imminent collapse of his civilization. Byrne considered the persona "believable and plausible". "Air" is a protest song against the atmosphere, an idea Byrne does not consider "a joke". Inspired by The Threepenny Opera, the lyricist wanted to create a melancholic and touching track about a guy who feels so down that even breathing feels painful.
"Life During Wartime" was the first single from their 1979 album Fear of Music in 1979. It peaked at #80 on the US Billboard Pop Singles Chart. In David Bowman's book This Must Be the Place: The Adventures of Talking Heads in the Twentieth Century Byrne is quoted as describing the genesis of the song: "David wrote nine of the album's eleven tracks. Two numbers came out of jamming. The first would be called "Life During Wartime." David's lyrics describe a Walker Percy-ish post-apocalyptic landscape where a revolutionary hides out in a deserted cemetery, surviving on peanut butter. 'I wrote this in my loft on Seventh and Avenue A,' David later said, 'I was thinking about Baader-Meinhof. Patty Hearst. Tompkins Square. This a song about living in Alphabet City.'”
AllMusic's Bill Janowitz reviewed the song, calling attention to its nearness to funk, saying that it is a "sort of apocalyptic punk/funk merge" comparable to Prince's later hit single "1999". In 2012, The New Yorker described "Life During Wartime" as, "an apocalyptic swamp-funk transmission in four-four time," adding "[it] is the band’s pinnacle, and the song is still a hell of a thing to hear."
"Life During Wartime" (1979)
"I Zimbra," the second single from their 1979 album Fear of Music.
The song's lyrics are an adaptation of Dadaist Hugo Ball's poem "Gadji beri bimba". According to Sytze Steenstra in Song and Circumstance: The Work of David Byrne from Talking Heads to the Present, the music draws heavily on the African popular music Byrne was listening to at the time.
"Cities," the third single from the album, is a fast-paced bass and keyboard-led song. Tina Weymouth's bass playing in the song is described as both "melodic" and "funky", while David Byrne's guitar is said to be jittery, but clean-sounding. The song fades both in and out with a very aggressive funky rhythm and the fade-out makes a building-up feeling as it transitions into the next song, "Life During Wartime." The song's meaning is simple: it is mainly about a man looking for a city to live in, though lead singer David Byrne's surrealistic yet humorous delivery of the song is anything but simple. The lyrics are both deadpan and silly causing a mixed humor in the song. This combination can be seen in lyrics such as "Did I forget to mention, forget to mention Memphis, home of Elvis and the ancient Greeks.
"Heaven" has been called "the calm after their unusual ominous storm" by AllMusic as well as something "psychologists would certainly have a field day with" by journalist Ian Gittins. Dave Bell, writing for quarterly UK magazine Ceasefire, argued that the song "epitomises" pop as Samuel Beckett might write it: tedious, beautiful and desperate"
The following is a Rolling Stone Magazine Review:
Time stands still when you're cracking up. At the brink of mental overload, there's a revelatory instant — a freeze frame in which everything fits together in new ways. Logic dissolves, paralogic reigns. And in that precarious moment, the world is fixed in place, skewed and renewed.
David Byrne's lyrics on Talking Heads' Fear of Music are paralogical visions stated with almost childlike directness: he thinks that air hits him in the face, that animals want to change his life, that "someone controls electric guitar." By itself, this perspective makes Byrne's songs fascinating. But what makes Talking Heads my favorite and probably the best rock band anywhere is that they've invented an audio analog to their view from the brink: rock music that warps and suspends time.
They use a simple device: repetition. Unswerving rhythms, immobile harmonies. Each tune is a chain of sections linked by rhythm, each section a matrix of interlocking riffs. "I Zimbra" stakes Talking Heads' claim to pure mechanization. One by one, the instruments click into place in a rhythm pattern fleshed out by Afro-futurist harmonies and topped by the meaningless chanted syllables of a poem by Twenties Dadaist Hugo Ball. At composition's end, Robert Fripp's guitar phases through the whole pulsing assemblage like the shuttle of a high-speed loom.
Even in the more conventional numbers — those built on ordinary major and minor chords — anything repeatable gets repeated. "Heaven," Byrne sings in his minimalist anthem of the same name, "is a place where nothing happens," and while his songs aren't by any means completely static, their harmonies don't move as fast as most pop progressions do. When a tune lingers on one chord, riffs that go with that chord are played over and over. As for rhythm, drummer Chris Frantz will sometimes hold one lick for an entire cut: for example, the steady hi-hat eighth notes he plays throughout "Mind" and "Heaven." It's deliberately mechanical, but because the riffs are complexly intertwined and there's a solid backbeat, the repetition doesn't inspire Kraftwerk-style boredom or disco claustrophobia. Instead, there's a sense of time being held at bay.
Yet Byrne's vocals keep the music in the present tense. He sings like a Mouseketeer trapped in an endless anything-can-happen day: rattled, wide-eyed, quavery, breaking into glossolalia whenever he runs out of words. Sometimes he slides into sync with the other members of the band, sometimes he dithers above them in lunatic abandon. Though his cohorts play like an efficient machine, David Byrne maintains the beauty of human error.
Last year's More Songs about Buildings and Food signaled that the group, on its second album, had perfected its tech-mech music. The LP was a manic, oddly funky, hard-edged, catchy masterpiece. On Fear of Music, Talking Heads take that style and proceed to torture-test it under every distortion they and co-producer Brian Eno can devise. "Animals," with its dissonance and odd meters (5/4 and 7/4), radically extends the band's musical vocabulary, while other liberties (the jumpy, angular countermelody in "Air," Tina Weymouth's off-the-beat bass line in "Mind") are infiltrated into the more "normal"-sounding numbers. And the new record is programmed to emphasize its most ominous cuts: it opens with "I Zimbra," winds up side one with "Memories Can't Wait," and closes side two with "Animals," "Electric Guitar" and "Drugs." Whereas More Songs about Buildings and Food was crisp and outgoing, Fear of Music is often deliberately, brilliantly disorienting. Like its black, corrugated packaging (which resembles a manhole cover), the album is foreboding, inescapably urban and obsessed with texture.
Fear of Music is Talking Heads' most elaborate production so far, teeming with overdubs and effects the group doesn't try to reproduce in concert. Sounds emerge out of nowhere, echoes tangle the beat, instrumental timbres form unholy alloys. For the LP's spookiest tune, "Memories Can't Wait," the mix is as murky as a film-noir interior. Byrne's vocal is echoed, reverbed, tape-reversed and dizzyingly sped up while he sings about an endless "party in my mind." In the final verse, when suddenly "Everything is very quiet," his voice slips out front, the key changes and the echoes slink away. It's hardly subtle, but it works.
"Drugs" is a radical reworking of a song the band had been performing live and calling "Electricity." Onstage, "Electricity" was an easygoing, almost countryish, guitar-vamp number. On Fear of Music, Eno and Talking Heads eliminate the vamp, reverse the beat, stick a bell on every downbeat (like Jimmy Cliff's "Sitting in Limbo"), change some lyrics, rewrite the bridge in a different key and fill the hole left by the vamp with echoes and strange noises, including slow breathing, garbled voices and — just when the tune threatens to get too serious — what sounds like a bullfrog croak.
Though New Wave conservatives may be appalled at such elaborate studio tinkering, the songs don't suffer a bit. They're not sweetened — they're seasoned. In "Mind," Byrne double-tracks his vocals in ragged octaves on the chorus (which is inspired: e.g., "I need something to change your mind"), ostensibly making it twice as plaintive. But all the while, a giddy, slapstick synthesizer line is busy cutting away any trace of sentiment.
For me, Fear of Music's least interesting track is the rock-disco-like "Life During Wartime," which sounds almost live. The problem isn't the production but the song itself. While "Life During Wartime" is both structurally and harmonically conventional, boasts a silly chorus lyric and even adds a conga player to the group, the tune's real trouble is that it lacks Talking Heads' usual counterpoint. On the other hand, some of the words are arresting: "I got three passports, a couple of visas/You don't even know my real name."
Byrne has drastically shifted his verbal approach for Fear of Music. In his lyrics for earlier records, he let himself be self-conscious: he'd observe, analyze and make judgments. His new lyrics virtually eliminate abstraction — he doesn't consider, he feels. There's very little past and no future, just a jumble of sensations as if it's all he can do to handle right now. The songs are invariably in the first person and mention very few outside characters: the singer's inner world is his last refuge.
This way lies solipsism perhaps. But David Byrne's private, paranoid universe is dangerously close to yours and mine. "Cities," in which a homeless Byrne has to find himself "a city to live in," fades in with a riff and the sound of sirens. I'd played Fear of Music more than a dozen times before I realized that the sirens weren't outside my window.
The following review appeared in the August 18, 1979 issue of Billboard Magazine.
By far the groups strongest LP yet, this third album fully realizes the producing talents of Brian Eno and the lyrical/musical abilities of the art rock new wave band. The sensuous subtle rhythms applied sparingly in the past as in "Take Me To The River" and "Psycho Killer," predominate here with "I Zimbra" and "Mind" merging into disco though they are plainly avant-garde. The centerpiece is "Life During Wartime, a chilling account of what life in the US may be like in the next war. Despite more commercial instrumentation, David Byrne's vocals and lyrics can be as obtuse and irritating as ever.
Best Cuts: "Life During Wartime," "Mind," "Air," "I Zimbra."
Dealers: Last LP went top 30 and produced a top 39 single with Takee Me To The River."
Talking Heads (1979)
From left to right: Tina Weymouth, Chris Franz, David Byrne, Jerry Harrison
TALKING HEADS
