Talking Heads 10: Naked

We remember very well the atmosphere in which this album arrived; the aftermath of a cold winter, and whaddya mean there’s a new Talking Heads album? The few articles about the band that appeared in the wake of True Stories presented a trio generally flummoxed if not stymied by the dictatorial whims of David Byrne, and then the packaging for Naked included a photo of the entire band grinning amidst urban nightlife. Unlike the previous albums, where David Byrne hogged the songwriting, all four members contributed to creating the music. For the most part, however, the band is lost among the extra musicians, totaling in the dozens, throughout the tracks. Overall the mix disguises the message, and it ain’t pretty.

A funky horn section anchors “Blind”, and indeed David sings with more “soul” than ever, but don’t be fooled by the danceability. The horns also drive “Mr. Jones”—impossible to separate from the Dylan connotation—which sounds more like a straightforward Heads tune, but now filtered in the wake of Paul Simon’s mainstream African experiments. (Hindsight now points to the next Byrne project, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves again.) Eric Weisberg’s steel guitar lends a Hawaiian feel to the brassy “Totally Nude”, a celebration of living in the trees, though “Ruby Dear” suggests that paradise might be under threat. This is confirmed in “(Nothing But) Flowers”, a hilarious reversal of the ecological sentiments in “Big Yellow Taxi”, the narrator lamenting how his beloved strip malls have been replaced by fields and trees. Johnny Marr, liberated from the Smiths, shines all over this track.

The album was released in an election year following eight years of Reaganomics, and it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that the band was disdainful of the state of the nation, and the metaphors in “The Democratic Circus” are barely hidden. The organic sound of the track is jarred by the robotic opening to “The Facts Of Life”, recalling the cold atmosphere of Fear Of Music and taking all the emotion out of procreation. A family bus trip from a child’s point of view appears to be the setting of “Mommy Daddy You And I”, but there’s an undercurrent of fear throughout the narrative. It’s daring to put a similar title next, and the mistrust between the lovers in “Big Daddy” continues the unsettling mood. “Bill” (not included on the LP, where some of the tracks are also shortened) is a similarly dangerous man, but more in the serial killer vein. “Cool Water”, which closes the album, is the most chilling tune here, from its foreboding guitar riff and increasingly tense rhythm. An English horn solo adds to the bleakness, and even the suggestion of relief provided by the title turns to an image of drowning in the very last seconds. (In this century, the feeling of dread is diluted by the addition of “Sax And Violins”, started for the album but only finished in 1991 for inclusion on the star-studded Until The End Of The World movie soundtrack.)

Like most albums that take time to sink in, Naked is possibly the band’s most challenging album. Once the melodies finally take and familiarity reigns, the lyrics show just how dark everything has become, wherever you look. No wonder they didn’t tour behind it.

Talking Heads Naked (1988)—3
1988 cassette and CD: “same” as above, plus 1 extra track
2006 DualDisc: same as 1988 CD, plus 1 extra track