Posts Tagged → David Byrne

Everyone’s grandpa got one for Christmas one year and frankly it ruined that song forever

There was a big fire about a mile away from where we are staying. You could see it burning from the front porch. They put it out in fairly short order, but it’s still … unsettling to think about. Looking at a map of wildfires in the area really gives you a better understanding of where all this goddamned smoke is coming from.

Obviously not to scale.

I’m about half-way through The Butcher’s Masquerade. Holy cow is this an angry book. One of the most surprising things about this series is the anger, in my opinion. Carl is just straight-up murdering POWs, if you want to call them that. As bad as that is, he’s killing them while talking shit because he knows their families are watching.

Is it justified? Most people would say so. The aliens Carl is mercilessly slaughtering are the same aliens who destroyed Earth, the same aliens who subjugated the human race and forced everyone into a deadly competition for the entertainment of the rest of the universe. If those bastards don’t deserve to be the target of guerrilla warfare, then who the hell does?

Still, it feels like Carl has crossed a line. Somewhere between “blowing up that monster that’s trying to eat me” and “cracking jokes before curb-stomping some bitch.” It’s a level of violence that borders on “torture porn” — Carl just gave some mantis-lady a case of “enthusiastic double gonorrhea,” which sets a fire on her crotch that can never be put out. It’s horrible.

And I’m 100% with it.

These books are so popular largely because they tap into an anger that so many of us are feeling. I’m not a young man, but it does seem like these books are popular with young men. And, while it isn’t strictly young men who don’t normally read novels who are making this series successful, hitting that demographic has certainly helped. People in America are fucking pissed off, and we can see that same anger in Carl. We root for that anger when we see it.

I did wince, though, when Carl stuck the goose’s head in the garbage disposal.

Boy, did I not enjoy More Songs About Buildings and Food by Talking Heads. The album is from 1978. It has 11 tracks. I listened to it this morning while doing some chores around the house, watering plants, and hanging out by the stream. I tried so hard to find something to latch on to. But there just wasn’t much.

”Take Me to the River” is a legitimately good song. Groovy bass line, cool vibe. David Byrne is doing his best to keep himself in check with no unusual yips or squeaks, which must have been tough for him when the song was recorded. “Turn it down to about a 4, Dave,” his bandmates told him. “You’re at an 8 now. Cut that in half, okay? 50% less. That’s the sweet spot.”

That song, however, is disqualified due to its affiliation with Big-Mouth Billy Bass.

talking heads: 77 & the gate of the feral gods in smoky montana

Sometimes you’re by a campfire and, no matter where you sit, the smoke and ash blow right into your face. You get up and move, but the smoke seems to follow you. You move again. The smoke moves again. You curse and say, “This fucking happens every time I go camping.”

Well, that’s what it’s like in Montana right now.

Spokane, Washington, is apparently burning down (thanks to arson!) and the smoke is just … everywhere. It’s spreading across the northwest like a Lovecraftian haze, turning the horizon into a Japanese landscape painting.

Minus the boat.

If you haven’t seen the effects of these fires, you should check out some of the videos. Entire neighborhoods in Washington’s second biggest city are being reduced to ash.

I was talking to Sarah the other day about why I don’t think I’ve ever given Talking Heads a fair shake.

”David Byrne sings like he’s joking. Like, if I’m singing while I’m doing chores around the house, just faffing about not putting any thought into what I’m saying and just belting out whatever crap comes to mind, that’s what David Byrne sounds like.” I would guess that he really does put thought into his lyrics and vocal affectation, but he often comes across just sounding silly. I think he wants to sound silly.

When I was younger, music was something that I connected to on an almost visceral level. I liked artists who put passion into the way they expressed anger or happiness or excitement or loss. It was borderline offensive to me that other artists didn’t take it seriously.

”He’s up there dancing with a fucking lamp,” I thought. “Who likes this shit?”

I’ve never been able to hear Talking Heads without an accompanying mental eye roll. I figured it wasn’t fair that I disliked them without ever listening to them, though, so I’m going through their discography while I read Dungeon Crawler Carl.

I’m awfully glad that I got back into this series. The Gate of the Feral Gods has been a blast so far. I’ve got a lot of time to read while we’re in Montana, so I’ve made tremendous progress with it — I should finish the book today.

I got book 5 — The Butcher’s Masquerade — at a little bookstore called Country Bookshop in Bozeman, which is a fantastic little place and very well curated. My suitcase didn’t need the extra weight, but we all make our sacrifices.