David Byrne
Look into the Eyeball
[Luaka Bop/Virgin]
Rating: 8.0
Call me crazy, but it seems to me that David Byrne likes having friends. Or
at least, he seems to have a lot of friends who like him. What makes me say
this? Is it the lyrical content of Look into the Eyeball, Byrne's sixth
solo record, that gives it away? Is it the joyous quality of his voice as he
sings a Spanish duet with Nrü of Cafè Tacuba? Or is it the fact that exactly
forty-nine (49) guest musicians are credited in the liner notes?
If I were you, I'd probably go with the latter observation. I'm not sure if
any solo album really warrants 49 people, but Byrne tries his damnedest
to come up with good uses for all of them. First of all, he's David Byrne,
the charismatic, iconic former frontman of one of the most influential bands
of the last 25 years. It's hard to argue with the man. Secondly, even with
his multitude of backup musicians, he's the only person that plays guitar.
And third, 19 of the guests here play a string instrument.
You probably don't need to read 19 names to figure out that much of Look
into the Eyeball is coated with stringed accompaniment, often in the
forefront. But this is no chamber music album. For the most part, it
consists of upbeat, funk-laden pop songs, with lyrics that rarely penetrate
past one's eyeball, but rhythms that bounce and shake for better or worse.
It's a step back from the loose concept of Feelings; there are only a
couple of feelings present here, and they either relate to the music or are
extremely cryptic.
Bittersweet melody has become one of Byrne's strongest songwriting suits over
the past decade, and it isn't spared here. "The Great Intoxicator" refers to
music as its namesake, with looped and organic Latin percussion providing a
steady pulse as the dynamic strings aid Byrne in his graceful and melodic
expression of the sentiment. Unexpectedly, though, some of the record's best
moments come when Byrne strips away the rhythmic accessories and relies on
basic orchestral backing, as with "The Revolution," a gorgeous acoustic
guitar-and-violin ballad that again uses music as part of its lyrical
imagery.
And yet, the majority of the album still relies on primal, swinging grooves.
The obvious single, "Like Humans Do," features nonsensical lyrics akin to
Little Creatures-era Talking Heads about doing things, uh... like
humans do. Such as "achin'," "shakin'," and "breakin'," as the chorus informs
us. But as ridiculous as the lyrics get, Byrne's melody is undeniably
infectious, and his rhythm will no doubt get some appendage of yours tapping.
The song also stands as the best example of the album's use of strings and
horns for texture-- an entire orchestra seems to sit in the back of this
backyard jam session, and it seems perfectly in place. "Broken Things" is
Eyeball's musical peak, though, as the raw global funk aesthetic
that pervaded his 1994 self-titled record comes back into play. The violins
wisely sit this one out.
After "Descondido Soy," the aforementioned Spanish-language duet with Nrü,
the album slumps-- specifically with "Neighborhood," a coy, 70's lite-funk
tune employing an innumerable amount of clichéd disco aesthetics. Despite
this misstep, though, Byrne gets back on his feet with a few more tunes that,
while never truly living up to the Eyeball's first half, wring out the
kind of rhythmic and melodic glee only Byrne can pull off. Maybe that's why
so many pals flocked to play with him; he still has a lot of fun in the
studio.
-Spencer Owen