David Byrne fans are tall. I am not. Walking into the grounds of Cardiff Castle, I realise this and set up base
where I can at least see Byrne between heads. That is as long as he stands still, in the same spot, in the middle of the stage. More fool me! This is, of course, a concert of movement. Movement which ceases to waver for its runtime as Byrne – a concept the crowd grasp quickly and mirror (in some form of chaotic synchronicity).
I was first introduced to David Byrne by my IT teacher in secondary school. His weekly re-creation of the “Once in a Lifetime” music video, instead of doing his job, is why I can’t code for the life of me. But ultimately, I think it was all for the best, and it’s why I find myself amongst a sold-out crowd of 8,500 fellow appreciators (whom I hope are also here because of a godawful impression).
It’s in these moments that you almost forget musicians are real. Some, especially those legends, hold this
mythical quality. They exist purely in the music. But conjured for his “Who Is The Sky” tour, David Byrne has created a show that rips through such a suggestion. He’s not to be boxed into some legends slot and be deemed an ageing musician keeping up with his legacy. No, he’s creating something far more than that. This is a show which feeds on the purest of human emotions. Empathy, companionship, togetherness – it’s all wrapped neatly into a phenomenal production.
Anna Calvi begins the evening with an outstanding set. Carving through play with urgency, her voice and guitar greet each other as if close friends. An undoubted highlight comes from a surprise appearance from Byrne himself, performing a duet of ‘Strange Weather.’ Somehow, in an open field of thousands, it felt the entire world fell still to listen.
Byrne and a band of around 13 musicians meander onto the stage in matching jumpsuits in a colour Pantone
would describe as “process blue” (I hope this isn’t an instance where you wear the same outfit as a work
colleague to the work’s do). It is only when people start cheering that I realise this is indeed actually happening.
A great image of Earth sits behind them for a performance of ‘Heaven,’ which, again, commands the attention of all. “There she is, our heaven, and it’s the only one we have.” From here on in, the whole show becomes a journey. A journey through a career of decades – solo, with band.
There’s no real moment to catch our breath as that aforementioned movement becomes a mantra for the night. Who are we not to abide? There are no props or set on the stage. All instruments are held to optimise energy conjured and, with no doubt, reach daily step goals. I’ve never seen anything like it, but it brought a new sense of life to the performance. The more they moved, the more the crowd did. There was an overwhelming sense of joy, something much needed today.
Moments of anecdote are also worth noting. Songs often preceded a recited quip or tale from Byrne, something which brought personality to the show. I’m sure they’re delivered every night to a new crowd in a new city, but somehow, with Byrne’s charm, it felt like a conversation.
I always know a gig was good based on how quickly I can sculpt a review around it. Sometimes, the words just slot into place as if their sole purpose is to describe it. This is absolutely one of those times. Byrne just
understands the art of performance. It feels a ridiculous thing to say about not only a man who’s been
performing for decades and was literally the frontman of the Talking Heads, but it’s true. If you’re going to see this show, your expectations will be exceeded no matter how high. And if you’re not going, get a ticket. Go on…
