Same as it Ever Was

THIS MUST BE THE PLACE. DAVID BYRNE’S AMERICAN UTOPIA

It seems everywhere we turn these days we’re confronted with ugliness, partisanship, trolls, division, hate crimes—the list goes on and on. It’s easy to fall prey to the negativity and cynicism. I wanted to write about the opposite. Which brings me to Spike Lee’s film David Byrne’s American Utopia currently showing on HBOMax. Optimism. Possibility. Change. These words are at the heart of David Byrne’s Broadway show. Optimism feels especially pertinent with our all-important election in a few days. Vote! It’s your duty. As an American and a citizen of the world.

PART ONE—HERE ARE THINGS WE LOVE ABOUT DAVID BYRNE

The preciseness of his name. His quivering falsetto when he hits the higher octaves. His age and the way he moves on stage. That thing he does with his hands. Those dark imaginative eyes and that shape-shifting face of his. How he’s known to meander city avenues on a collapsible bike he purportedly travels with. That chameleon-like quality all great artists possess. How he touches on concepts that enter like conundrums but settle in us like truth serum. His embodiment of energy. There is energy, and there is David Byrne in Stop Making Sense. That he seems a little off balanced (even when he dances). That his thinking feels skewed in the best possible way. Like a John Ashbery poem. Or Dr. Seuss. David Byrne is possibility, chance and change, persistence, a hunter of knowledge and truth, preacher, con man, orator, nerd, sage, cyclist, weaver, dancer, Rockstar, nomad, king.

PART TWO—IN PRAISE OF SPIKE LEE’S “DAVID BYRNE’S AMERICAN UTOPIA.”

Because when have Spike Lee and David Byrne done anything boring?
Because if you’ve seen David Byrne live in concert you realize he’s worth every penny.
Because the choreographer Annie B. Parsons creates a sparse clean palate—simple yet lively movements the eleven-piece ensemble and their ring-leader so joyously embrace.
Because who doesn’t love to hear a six-piece percussion unit banging their gongs?
Because you’ll be reminded of Kraftwerk. And Arcade Fire. And, well, the Talking Heads.
Because a band hasn’t looked this sharp—matching gray suits—since the Liverpool lads in A Hard Day’s Night.
Because the performers are barefoot!
Because Byrne was so inspired by Janelle Monae’s protest song, “Hell No Talmbout” that he asked permission to perform the song live.
Because in an era where talk of equality and inclusion many times places white people at the center of those stories, David Byrne does the opposite, wisely slipping into the background during Monae’s powerful and timely shout out, giving space to the younger musicians to bring “Say His Name!” to life.  
Because the show isn’t about David Byrne or the Talking Heads, but us, Americans.
Because Byrne’s message— that the possibility of change is inside all of us—is not only inspiring, it’s doable.
Because when the two-hour show is over one feels euphoric about the future. Do I even dare say you wanna dance?
Because what else are you going to do Saturday night during the pandemic?

PART THREE—DAVID BYRNE AT 68

Still sly of foot, but more careful around the edges. Barefoot. This speaks to his humility, his ease of effort. His hair is thick and cut prepster short, but its turned a respectable silver. His life force. You see it in certain faces. No regrets, animated, grounded in the here and now. David Byrne is a believer, a shaker of beliefs, a talisman with whippy hand movements, clear and succinct deliveries, and words. Words that follow form, form saturated with dynamic arm and hip movement, words constantly playing catch up to the polyrhythm proto-punk, Pop Art, African-infused beats. Words as concepts, concepts that hit us like koans. To see a David Byrne performance is not to see a case study in egomania, in how many outfits can he change into during a two-hour performance, in feeding off adoration from the audience, but a study in collaboration—in connection.