Love is a topic that David Byrne avoided so consistently in the music of the Talking Heads that it feels like a gesture of opposition toward the music industry. In 1978, when the BeeGees were still yodeling and strutting in sequins, Talking Heads put out their second album, More Songs About Buildings and Food (1978). The title suggests a glorification of the mundane. I can imagine a record executive scoffing at the idea of getting radio play for a bunch of songs about concrete, glass, and pasta. Of course the album is not quite so ridiculous, and the songs are killer.

The Talking Heads had a pioneering spirit, and one of their contributions that I find so interesting is how much they say. At a time when the horizons for pop music seemed pretty narrow, they proved that there was so much to explore. And if the lesson of Buildings & Food was lost on the industry, I like to think of the songs on their next record Fear of Music – Paper, Cities, Air, Animals, Drugs, to name a few – as further creative calisthenics from Byrne; he’s literally throwing anything against the wall (even the literal gibberish of “I Zimbra”) to see what works. A man on a mission to prove that love is not the only profitable language of pop.

So Byrne and the Heads eventually get around to the subject of love, but in their own subversive style. Their one romantic hit, “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” has a self-awareness that’s clear just by looking at the title, and was pushed to the end of the record’s B-side. The lyrics are unexpected (“sing into my mouth!”), and the music is saccharine: soft chords, high-pitched fiddly organ bits and the occasional cornball shimmer of chimes. As the lyrics gets sappy (Love me til my heart stops, love me til I’m dead) and the music swells at the song’s conclusion, he ends with a plea to be put out of his misery that makes me smile: “oh, hit me on the head.” It’s such a good tune, and one that I come back to again and again.

In the groundbreaking live documentary directed by Jonathan Demme, Stop Making Sense, David Byrne dances with a floor lamp during the musical interlude of this song. Like all of Byrne’s dancing, it straddles the line between hokey and care-free, and is super fun to watch. I would go so far as to say that this affection between man and light fixture is very touching.

Just as Talking Heads music challenged the standards of the music industry, Stop Making Sense challenged the norms of musical performance. The band members are introduced one at a time throughout the first half; workers are plainly seen moving set pieces around, and no effort is made to conceal the cameras. Amp stacks, scaffolding, floor tape and other “unsightly” features of the stage are plainly visible. It’s like the musical equivalent of the Centre Pompidou in Paris, France.

Only at its conclusion does Stop Making Sense reach any conventionality, with theatrical lighting and a full band performing in an arena setting. Byrne focuses on the visual aspect of performance, and brilliantly takes the audience along on a dynamic, artful journey from start to finish. Like the rest of Stop Making Sense, it’s clear that a good deal of thought went into the visual design of the sequence with the floor lamp. It complements the tone of the song so well. It’s not lusty or passionate but a naive joy- the way that Thumper closes his eyes as he smells a patch of flowers in Bambi. And of course, Byrne’s dance with the lamp is a bit of a parody of love, just as “This Must Be The Place” is a bit of a parody of a love song.

Bravo, David. You’re a visionary, and I’m always having fun whenever I listen to your music.