Talking Heads – Naked Review

Johnny Marr, environmental cynicism and the abrupt end of a band that dominated the 1970s and 1980s. Naked has Talking Heads go out not with a bang but an ape-fronted whimper which sparks little of their best efforts. From its first seconds, the direction David Byrne would take as a solo artist is there for the taking. Naked lends itself to the claim Talking Heads became a backing group for endeavours Byrne would later take up on his own. He had grown and grown as the frontman of a formidable group and was bursting to present himself as the brains of the operation. As would be the case for much of his solo work, all roads lead back to Talking Heads. American Utopia proves it. So too does Naked.  

Raspy intro Blind has the flickers of rhythm and groove Byrne would chase for the better part of two decades. It is not like it does not work it just moves Talking Heads into the backseat and brings in The Smiths alumni Marr as a staple for the album’s best track, (Nothing But) Flowers. Do not go so harshly on Blind though as it has flickers of guitar work which would become essential to the overall sound of this final album. Salsa could not be clearer than Mr. Jones. There is a danceability to Naked which transfers Talking Heads well away from the post-punk abstractions and into this fluid motion of striking, funk rock energy. It works well though it is a shame to hear Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison and Tina Weymouth essentially discarded from their hard-worked instrumental phases.  

Though its flow of fishes in the water and environmental speculation has its charms there is no escaping the nursery rhyme-like tones of Totally Nude. Those same pitches are the reason (Nothing But) Flowers linger as the best of the Naked bunch. Byrne pushes his vocal range and using some simpler contrast, an obvious launch of sarcasm for how beautiful highways appear. Byrne wakes screaming on Democratic Circus to poke some weak political atmospherics into Naked but better than anything he loses the samba looseness and returns to the roars and crackles of ‘77. They know where their roots lie but hope to navigate around them for what more does replicating the process offer? Naked will stand as a fascinating end to Talking Heads, a record which holds such venom between its members and a complete departure from their sound.  

Early signs of whistling tech terror on Facts of Life add to the layered attempts of deconstructing their environmental efforts but Talking Heads sound too far gone. Byrne is out on his lonesome and trialling a sound which would feel closer to industrial tensions than the free association often heard in the lyrics Byrne provided. But something is lost within Naked which no member recovered from. Byrne is off the deep end and battling monsters on Facts of Life while Harrison, Weymouth and Frantz sound absent. A shame for it all to come to this, though not many bands can say their demise came from a Marr-featuring samba dance album which prompted The Heads to drop their Talking and collaborate with Shaun Ryder.