The Byrne-self has always been one that seemed to tread rather lightly on the earth, first in Talking Heads and their ironic, iconic artpop experiments, then in his long and increasingly earnest solo career. The answer comes frolicking through the curtain-chains in the form of two dancer-vocalists - Chris Giarmo and Tendayi Kuumba - also in gray suits, also barefoot. And so what does all that elimination get us? Babies, he reminds us, have millions more neural connections than adults do: Growing up is a neurological casting-off. (The tour, staged by Annie-B Parson, has been on the road for more than a year Alex Timbers is also credited as production consultant, and has apparently lent a hand to “theatricalize” it, whatever that means.) To give Byrne his theatrical due, he does speak to the audience from time to time: He hesitantly mentions a few scripted thoughts about watching people - so much more interesting than watching a sunset or a bag of potato chips, he notes - and he more emphatically discusses thinking. It’s rain in reverse.Īmerican Utopia, a concert so beautifully and completely choreographed that it’s also a dance piece, has come to Broadway. It rises slowly as he sings, unfurling lines of chain, until the space has three tall walls made of shimmering silver strands. Around him, framing the otherwise empty stage, is a rectangle of lighting truss. The white-haired Byrne is wearing a pale gray suit (which fits this is not Big Suit Byrne), and his bare feet are tapping a little bit under the table. Here is a section - that continues living ![]() ![]() As he sings, he carefully indicates each part. He’s singing “Here,” the song he wrote with Daniel Lopatin for his album American Utopia, and holding a pink plastic brain. This is not my beautiful house! This is the Hudson Theatre.ĭavid Byrne is sitting at a table.
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