Q&A; : ‘Something From the Heart’

It’s no accident that David Byrne’s new solo album is titled simply “David Byrne.”

After more than a dozen albums with Talking Heads and on his own, the singer-songwriter, called “Rock’s Renaissance Man” in an ‘80s Time magazine cover story, has made his most personal work.

Gone is much of the emotional shield Byrne held up during the Heads days, when he was the wry, detached observer of human foibles and fads. Gone, too, are most of the elements of world music that characterized his two earlier solo collections--1989’s “Rei Momo” and 1992’s “Uh-Oh.”

In the new album, Byrne, 42, speaks with a new directness on topics ranging from innocence and love to morality and death in ways that are frequently both disarming and endearing.

Before leaving New York on a European tour with his new band, Byrne spoke about the album and how the AIDS-related death two years ago of his sister-in-law, designer Tina Chow, helped push him toward a more personal tone in his music.

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Question: What about the expectations surrounding someone whose work has been as heralded as yours? Is it something that inspires you to do better, or does it burden you?

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Answer: It is a little bit of both. The burden part goes along with the whole Western myth of progress. . . . That every year we have got to come up with something new . . . something that has to be exciting. That is what causes you to end up with all these disposable trends . . . these styles and stuff that one just replaces the other. You end up pushing artists just to innovate for the sake of innovation, which is kind of futile in the end.

On the other hand, the (expectation) is good because it gives people a kick in the ass . . . and makes them try to set a standard for themselves because they know people are watching.

Q: What was the starting point in the new album?

A: Probably the song “Buck Naked.” I wrote it when my wife’s sister was dying of AIDS and so was kind of born out of that grief and confusion. . . . Trying to explain what was happening to our little daughter. I think that kind of acted as a catalyst.

Q: The interesting thing is that it’s not just the lyrics that are more intimate or personal, but the whole feel of the record--the bareness of the arrangements. How did that come about?

A: During the tour, I would often just play the new material with an acoustic guitar in front of an audience. I would introduce the material that way and kind of work it out for myself. . . . How to sing it . . . what attitude to take, all that kind of stuff. Afterward, people often said the strength of the writing came across a lot more that way . . . the meaning of the song. So, I decided to strip the band down to sort of the essentials . . . leaving in only what was needed to just embellish the song a little bit.

Q: Did part of you resist being so personal in the music?

A: Oh, that’s a constant thing I think. Plus as a writer, it is easy to fall into traps of writing what you know how to do . . . what you can do kind of easily. And, with me, it wasn’t the personal kinds of songs. It was more those funny, quirky little songs.

Q: It’s also safer to write as the observer, isn’t it? It’s not like you’re revealing yourself.

A: Yes. If the song is real personal, it’s not just that they don’t like the songs, which you can easily accept, but that they don’t like you.

Q: What about during the Heads days? . . . Were there some songs that were very personal?

A: Oh, there were plenty. Songs like “Cool Water” and “Naive Melody” come to mind first. In those days, however, they were mixed in with others so they didn’t stand out. They didn’t kind of announce themselves as being completely different from the rest of the stuff.

In my case, I think I have gotten far enough away from (the Heads days) that I don’t care what people say so much, which gives you this incredible freedom to lay it on the line and say what you think. . . . I just wanted to write something from the heart . . . something about my own experiences and feelings . . . the kind of music that I look for when I listen to other artists and am moved by their work.

Q: In the new “Sad Song,” you say, “But it’s the truly sad people who get the most out of life.” What do you mean by that?

A: People want the world to be a Hallmark card place, but that’s really disgusting. There is no richness to life without both sides.

Q: “Self-Made Man” is about a future society where you can buy genes to really remake yourself. Are you optimistic or pessimistic about the future?

A: Yes, “Self-Made Man” is a kind of an exception in a way to the rest of the album . . . a completely imaginary scenario. It’s about a possible future where instead of dealing crack on the black market, they are dealing little vials of genes. . . .

Am I optimistic? I’m optimistic that there is still a lot of creativity out there . . . especially in other countries. That is incredibly stimulating and exciting. Politically and economically, I’m more of a pessimist.

Q: How do you see yourself dividing your time over the next few years? Will you continue to be the “Renaissance man of rock,” open to film or stage or classical music projects?

A: Dividing my time between records and other things is important for me. It gives ideas time to kind of germinate while you are working on something else. It also keeps you from feeling like you are on a treadmill. It keeps you open to new ideas and experiences. That’s what keeps you alive . . . artistically.