Review Summary: The name of this band is Talking Heads.
Contrary to what the title might have you believe, this album wasn’t made by 77 musicians; rather, it connotes the year of recording, 1977.
Talking Heads were a seminal American post-punk and new wave band consisting of Tina Weymouth on bass, Chris Frantz on drums, Jerry Harrison on guitar and also keyboards if need be, and Scottish expat David Byrne on guitar and lead vocals. This gathering of art students made a name for themselves in New York’s punk scene performing at the CBGB club, which also hosted such important alternative acts as
Patti Smith,
Television,
Sonic Youth, and the
Ramones, and eventually they signed onto Sire Records which brings us to the album at hand.
The record begins with “Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town”, in which Byrne experiences love for what sounds like the first time and immediately fears it’ll make him do reckless and irresponsible things. Almost immediately I could tell I was in for something special; there’s an obvious funk influence in the bassline, steel drums, which leads me to believe their fascination with African music was always present, and of course Byrne’s shaky and yelpy vocals. There’s a neuroticism to Byrne’s delivery that underlines this otherwise cheerful song, but it also has a sort of swagger that fits the song nicely.
“New Feeling” is about exactly that: some new feeling that Byrne’s experiencing, and he has no idea how to react. Byrne sounds even more insecure, with oddly placed falsetto yells, and oddly tuned guitars during some moments as if to accompany and give weight to Byrne’s fear. “Tentative Decisions” has a decidedly insistent pace in spite of the song being about tentative decisions; Frantz’ drumming takes on a militaristic tone at a couple of points, and the keyboard is also at its most prominent, enough so that it sort of takes over in the song’s last seconds. “Happy Day” more than lives up to its name; Byrne is finally at ease, if only for a matter of minutes, and the song serves as a welcome break from Byrne’s neuroses. “Who Is It?” wastes no time resuming the album’s apprehensive mood, though it would help if it were about as long as most of the other tracks and actually had good lyrics; perhaps “not good” is too strong a descriptor, but I’m certainly underwhelmed, because this is pretty much it:
Who, who is it?
Who, who is it?
Who, who is it?
Who, who is it?
What is it?
What is it?
What is it?
What is it?
Oh, baby, it's you!
“No Compassion” is probably the closest this album gets to resembling straight punk rock, but even then it has some slight eccentricity. The guitars are agained tuned in a strange fashion; not so obviously out of key, but just enough to make the song feel slightly off-kilter. “The Book I Read” has what I consider Byrne’s best performance on this record; this is the most comfortable he’s sounded since “Happy Day”, and his voice truly soars here, which complements several of the builds quite well.
“Don’t Worry About the Government” begins with a guitar played with such a mandolin-like timbre that I went and checked the liner notes via Discogs to make sure there wasn’t any folk instrumentation. There isn’t, but the opening lends the song an air of sardonicism fitting of the story it tells of housing schemes and industrialization. “First Week/Last Week… Carefree” has some interesting choice of percussion; it features what sounds like a marimba, and there’s also a keyboard saxophone preset that gives the song a strong elevator music vibe.
“Psycho Killer” should be self-explanatory: it’s a song about a serial killer which begins in an upbeat manner, but the song becomes more manic as Byrne begins speaking seemingly gratuitous French, like he’s experiencing some form of dissociation, and the song ends on a dissonant guitar solo with some slight pinch harmonics. The album closes with “Pulled Up”, a song about someone who needs help. It’s an optimistic note to end the album on, but there is a desperation to Byrne’s delivery, like he needs to be pulled up and he needs to be pulled up now.
Talking Heads: 77 is easily the most fun debut album I’ve yet listened to; while it does feel naked in comparison to the other Heads albums I’ve checked out on account of their layered production and more complex and ambitious songwriting, it has a sort of kinetic energy that always demands attention, and it comes across to me not like an inferior predecessor to later, greater records, but rather a statement that’s confident in all its awkwardness and eccentricity.
Talking Heads: 77 slaps from beginning to end, maintaining a high level of studio polish that neatly coincides with a punk-like energy. Though it’s not as cutting-edge as its successors, it’s this rawness that makes it stand out, and even without taking into consideration the band’s future legacy, I find this album supremely enjoyable. It’s a fun album with fun songs. I had fun listening to this fun album.
Favourite tracks:
"Psycho Killer", "Pulled Up", "Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town"
Least favourite track(s):
"Who Is It?"
