Talking Heads
Stop Making Sense (Special New Edition)

THE REVIEW

"Frustrated madmen, neurotic subhuman mutant beings of the modern world, grotesque tele/computer-dependents, cybernetic post-sedentaries of the New Millennium, pseudo-intellectuals, proletarians of the world, leave your useless problems on the ground, rotting underground in the subways of your souls, your crippling fixations, those age-old self-imposed inhibitions, and climb, run to the rooftops of your houses and … dance, writhe like possessed, with arms raised, clapping to the sky, for maybe it's not all irreversibly black, sad, depressing forever. . if there is still strength in your bodies, vital energy, don't waste it seeking a psychoanalytic sense to your existence, a metaphysical justification for your oppressive condition because who knows, you might even discover that there is none … And so, break the masks and run away like the wind from the Great Play, at least for a while, you will find how fun and magical it is to play with a living room lamp, or throw a silly red cap into the air; how many times, laughing, you will tap your forehead with an open palm to the rhythm of music, for your everyday nonsense and absurdities … Exhaust yourselves to bring out the joy, the will for joy that is in each of you, sweat, shout and clamor like drunken, unleashed creatures, dancing like robots in a frenzy, jump, run until you faint, give air to those mildewed, smoked lungs because Music, Rhythm, Sound are the drug, the eternal drug for man, forever and always …"

I know someone has already talked about it but I just finished watching, living, listening to "Stop Making Sense" for the first time and it was a revelation, a divine Epiphany, I heard David Byrne shouting at me with eyes wide open the words I've simply reported and translated as best as I could, on the uncomfortable chair of my room, struck by an uncontrollable epidermal exhilaration …