‘And as things fell apart / Nobody paid much attention,” David Byrne sings with a gentle shake of his head during (Nothing But) Flowers, Talking Heads’ hymn to human complacency and self-interest. That line had teeth back in 1988. In 2026, it’ll take your hand off as soon as look at you. But Byrne doesn’t oversell it. His latest spectacle isn’t a telling-off; it’s a reminder of what happiness felt like, of what joy in movement feels like.
Surrounded by a large ensemble in matching blue suits – dancers who sing, percussionists who dance, guitarists who also shred on a violin – he continues his career-long obsession with blurring the line between live show and theatrical art-piece. At the rear of the stage, a series of huge concave screens are a continual source of wonder. Alongside Strange Overtones, the sun sets on a cityscape presented in deep focus, details popping into the distance, while a pogoing Byrne, picked out in blue against saturated orange during Once in a Lifetime, offers a thrilling punk jolt amid a meticulously planned whole.
