Μετά τον Jaz Coleman, ο έτερος “ψυχωτικός” της περιόδου, David Byrne, σε ένα κομμάτι από το αγαπημένο μου άλμπουμ των Talking Heads, Fear Of Music – δυσκολεύεται κανείς να πιστέψει ότι πρόκειται για κυκλοφορία των ‘70s. Προσοχή στους εφιαλτικά δυστοπικούς στίχους.
Με αφορμή συγκεκριμένο κομμάτι ο DB είχε δηλώσει, τότε, κάποια εκπληκτικά πραγματάκια : “Θα υπάρχουν χρόνιες ελλείψεις τροφίμων και ελλείψεις αερίου, οι άνθρωποι θα ζουν σε χαμόσπιτα. Παραδόξως, θα περιβάλλονται από κομπιούτερ σε μέγεθος ρολογιού. Θα είναι πολύ φτηνοί. Το να συνδέσεις τον υπολογιστή σου σε ένα κεντρικό σύστημα, θα είναι σαν τα ψώνια απ’ το σούπερ μάρκετ”

After Jaz Coleman, here’s the other “psychotic” of the era, David Byrne, on a track from my favorite Talking Heads album, Fear Of Music – one finds it hard to believe this is a ’70s release. Check out the nightmarishly dystopian lyrics.
On the occasion of this song, DB stated, at the time, some amazing things:
“There will be chronic food shortages and gas shortages and people will live in hovels. Paradoxically, they’ll be surrounded by computers the size of wrist watches. Calculators will be cheap. It’ll be as easy to hookup your computer with a central television bank as it is to get the week’s groceries.”

Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons
Packed up and ready to go
Heard of some grave sites, out by the highway
A place where nobody knows
The sound of gunfire, off in the distance
I’m getting used to it now
Lived in a brownstone, lived in a ghetto
I’ve lived all over this town
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
This ain’t no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain’t got time for that now
Transmit the message, to the receiver
Hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, a couple of visas
You don’t even know my real name
High on a hillside, the trucks are loading
Everything’s ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nighttime
I might not ever get home
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
This ain’t no fooling around
This ain’t no Mudd Club, or C. B. G. B.
I ain’t got time for that now
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, P. A.?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
Somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter
To last a couple of days
But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones
Ain’t got no records to play
Why stay in college? Why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time
Can’t write a letter, can’t send a postcard,
I can’t write nothing at all
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
This ain’t no fooling around
I’d like to kiss you, I’d love you hold you
I ain’t got no time for that now
Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock
we blended with the crowd
We got computer, we’re tapping phone lines
I know that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives
or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle, so many times now
I don’t know what I look like!
You make me shiver, I feel so tender
We make a pretty good team
Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving
you ought to get some sleep
Get you instructions, follow directions
Then you should change your address
Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day
whatever you think is best
Burned all my notebooks, what good are
Notebooks? They won’t help me survive
My chest is aching, burns like a furnace
The burning keeps me alive
Try to stay healthy, physical fitness
Don’t want to catch no disease
Try to be careful, don’t take no chances
You better watch what you say