He’s nerdy and awkward but iconic and cool. His subject matter is routinely quotidian – songs about buildings, food, a paucity of decent entertainment on TV – and yet he has an oversized presence, the bouffant and the big suit giving him extraterrestrial qualities.
On Who Is The Sky?, his first studio release in seven years, he seems to be reckoning with his place in the pop landscape. For the best part of 50 years, he has helped to shape the art-pop landscape with a commitment to making whatever felt right, confounding critics not due to obstinance or contrarianism but because he’s following his own personal muse. He’ll tear from perfect pop songs to sample-heavy ambient soundscapes, ballet soundtracks and collaborations with indie darlings as the mood takes him. His latest record is a culmination of such freewheelery, as Byrne indulges his best and, occasionally, worst ideas with the abandon of a true living legend.
That reckoning with his place somewhere between radio friendly pop and leftfield curio is examined on standout track “The Avant Garde”. It’s a lurching, spacious track that allows the singer to deploy his trademark yelp and flits between ragged guitars and sweet strings and twinkling keys. The chorus is nothing short of a mission statement for Byrne: “It’s deceptively weighty, profoundly absurd / It’s whatever fits / It's the avant garde / And it doesn’t mean shit / It’s the avant garde.”
Byrne is one of pop’s great collaborators, and in his quest to make a record that goes around the world in 37 minutes, he arms himself with the sizeable Ghost Train Orchestra. The New York ensemble gives him the scope to hit Latin psychedelia on infectiously jolly opener “Everybody Laughs”, stately AM pop on “I’m An Outsider”, and marimba-led dance music on “My Apartment Is My Friend”. He trades verses with Hayley Williams on “What Is The Reason For It?”, but his smartest signing might be that of Kid Harpoon. The British producer has worked with the likes of Harry Styles and Jessie Ware, and those artists’ modern takes on retro sounds are a handy reference point for Who Is The Sky?’s grab bag soundscape.
From Talking Heads onward, Byrne’s songwriting style hasn’t been so much light and shade as light or shade, and the album sags a bit when he indulges in his more twee instincts. “Moisturizing Thing” is a little like one of Lou Reed’s story songs, only instead of being about a sap getting his head chopped off by his girlfriend, it’s about a face cream whose efficacy is such that it turns you into a toddler. “I might look like a baby, but inside I’m a man / I think and I talk / I’m still who I am / And when we go out, they ask for ID / It’s not always easy / When you look like you’re three,” goes the chorus. There’s a degree of fun to the you what? quality the first time you hear it, but the charm doesn’t go too far. They can’t all be “Naive Melody”, but it’d be nice for him to write about something a little more substantive than magical unguents at this point in his life.
Between this and the self explanatory “I Met The Buddha At A Downtown Party”, it’s not hard to wish for a Brian Eno figure to tell Dave to stop fucking around, but those indulgences are worth it for “A Door Called No”. The rootsy instrumentation builds to something triumphant, an almost worshipful timbre from this most secular of artists. It’s not unlike something The Band might jam out on; it’s a two and a half minute track that you’d happily listen to for twice that.
In interviews, Byrne has described a “don’t give a shit about what people think” mindset for this particular record. And while it’s hard to imagine he was ever particularly concerned with the court of public opinion, it does the heart good to hear an artist of his vintage and status making a record this joyous at this stage of a career. To go through life becoming steadily less cynical instead of more is no mean feat.
