Stop Making Sense

"Feet on the ground / head in the sky / I know nothing is wrong."

I have no connection to the music of Talking Heads. I could've named probably two songs if asked, but surely I've heard more over the years. So, while I'd heard that Stop Making Sense is one of the greatest films of its decade, the greatest concert film, and so on, it took me a while to actually sit down and watch it.

I get it now.

It didn't matter that I don't know the songs; it captivated and moved me for the length of it. While I love thinking about both films and albums as pieces of art, and I love considering how those works of art move us, I rarely think of concerts within the same framework. With Stop Making Sense, Byrne and Demme showed me how much I'm missing. 

Stop Making Sense creates hospitality even while focused on a stage. It is a concert with a telos. There's an alchemy in the combination of script (set list, lyrics) and improv, performance and personality. It's in the way the whole band interacts with each other, respect and delight served up in equal measure. It's in the relentless energy of the performance, as Talking Heads gives the audience everything it has. And always it is in the sincerity of Byrne.

Byrne is a mad scientist, but a radically selfless one—his living creation is a sense of unabashed community formed through music. I was struck by the sheer hospitality of watching them perform; and that was before he brought in a floor lamp to emphasize that we're welcome in his home. Byrne exudes a "come as you are" generosity simply by being himself to the fullest and inviting you to join in the fun.

A day later, I can't stop thinking about how much I miss concerts. 

I'm also sure that this rating will only go up on rewatches, as the songs develop their own personal meanings for me and I inevitably start belting them out along with the band.