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How Music Works
How Music Works is David Byrne’s remarkable and buoyant celebration of a subject he has spent a lifetime thinking about. In it he explores how profoundly music is shaped by its time and place, and he explains how the advent of recording technology in the twentieth century forever changed our relationship to playing, performing, and listening to music.
Acting as historian and anthropologist, raconteur and social scientist, he searches for patterns—and shows how those patterns have affected his own work over the years with Talking Heads and his many collaborators, from Brian Eno to Caetano Veloso. Byrne sees music as part of a larger, almost Darwinian pattern of adaptations and responses to its cultural and physical context. His range is panoptic, taking us from Wagnerian opera houses to African villages, from his earliest high school reel-to-reel recordings to his latest work in a home music studio (and all the big studios in between).
Touching on the joy, the physics, and even the business of making music, How Music Works is a brainy, irresistible adventure and an impassioned argument about music’s liberating, life-affirming power.
Acting as historian and anthropologist, raconteur and social scientist, he searches for patterns—and shows how those patterns have affected his own work over the years with Talking Heads and his many collaborators, from Brian Eno to Caetano Veloso. Byrne sees music as part of a larger, almost Darwinian pattern of adaptations and responses to its cultural and physical context. His range is panoptic, taking us from Wagnerian opera houses to African villages, from his earliest high school reel-to-reel recordings to his latest work in a home music studio (and all the big studios in between).
Touching on the joy, the physics, and even the business of making music, How Music Works is a brainy, irresistible adventure and an impassioned argument about music’s liberating, life-affirming power.
345 pages, Hardcover
First published September 2, 2014
About the author
David Byrne
141 books736 followersA cofounder of the musical group Talking Heads, David Byrne has also released several solo albums in addition to collaborating with such noted artists as Twyla Tharp, Robert Wilson, and Brian Eno. His art includes photography and installation works and has been published in five books. He lives in New York and he recently added some new bike racks of his own design around town, thanks to the Department of Transportation.
Photo © Catalina Kulczar-Marin
Photo © Catalina Kulczar-Marin
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,538 reviews
March 24, 2022
David Byrne is our great charlatan. He stands up there twitching and tweaking and exhorting, like an amateur weatherman who thinks too much about his hands. Like a caricature of an amateur weatherman. Like a snake oil salesman. He speaks in tongues. "You may tell yourself, 'This is not my beautiful wife,'" he suggests insidiously. "Take a look at these hands. I’m a tumbler." Behind him the Talking Heads hijack Afropop, hip hop, funk. They are extremely funky. Years before Graceland, the Heads were sampling world music. (Later when a solo Byrne makes it explicit with Rei Momo, it’s like a comedian explaining his joke; I lose interest.)
In Stop Making Sense, the greatest concert video ever filmed, the Talking Heads both celebrate and subvert the act of performing. Their great magic trick is that they can make ironic performance art about rocking out, but also legitimately rock out, at the exact same time. The opening scene, Byrne toddling bug-eyed onto a bare stage with his boom box to squawk his way through Psycho Killer, is iconic - but as musician after musician is wheeled on to join him it gets bigger, and impossibly big and, finally, some sort of religious experience.
He's tense and nervous and he can't relax
The Heads’ ecstasy has always been both sincere and calculated, and when David Byrne self-diagnoses with some sort of Asperger’s, a few chapters into How Music Works, you nod. I don’t love throwing these terms around willy nilly, but it’s a big spectrum and he certainly does like analyzing patterns. The thing about having an immense gift and spending your life analyzing it is that you come up with some weird ideas, and here they all are in this book, which is almost always fascinating. Music evolves in response to the space it’s played in. A building is an instrument. Animals evolve their calls to different spectrums so as not to get in each others’ ways. "Albums" are a recent and unnecessary invention.
The danger with aging artists is that they’re the same as aging everyone else: lost in a world that’s moved on without them, scared and confused and rambling about the good old days. To his immense credit, Byrne largely avoids the deathtrap of nostalgia. The death of the music industry is a good thing. The new sounds coming out of computers, bearing no relationship to any acoustic chamber, are exciting and valid. My favorite example is the skittering fka twigs. What are these noises? Byrne has an essentially radical, proletarian soul. He doesn’t believe in "high art." Why, he asks, is the government subsidizing opera because not enough people want to pay for it? Maybe we just don’t like opera very much.
We agree on the necessity of new music. When you hear music from your adolescence, you're transported back to that time. If you don’t continue discovering new music then what, in years to come, will bring you back to now? And if nothing does, what have you lost? Music defines and celebrates phases of your life. If I were to give you three pieces of advice, the third would be to find new music.
The Talking Heads were part of one of the all-time great scenes: CBGB’s in the early 80s. Blondie and Television were there, too. Byrne spends a chapter analyzing what it was that made CBGB’s an incubator for such a scene, looking for patterns. He mentions as a living example Barbes in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where my wife and I used to spend a lot of time before we had a kid and left the city and bought a "lawnmower."
I was surprised to realize, as Byrne ticked off the qualities that make a scene a scene, that each and every one was true of Denver’s mighty Herman’s Hideaway, where I played regularly as part of a band called Flex Luther in the early aughts. The bands kept the door money. Musicians always got in free, as soon as the door guy learned (shockingly quickly!) to recognize you, for cross-pollination. Disparate acts were frequently thrown together, particularly on Hermans’ raucous New Music Wednesdays. The atmosphere was scrubby and anything went. As half-assed as it all felt at the time, we were a scene after all. Why didn’t we all get famous? Well, one of us did (we all thought they sucked, lol) but the rest of us, I’d argue, just weren’t good enough. I was no David Byrne, let me tell you.
Here's a rare shot of yours truly with hair
But it’s nice to realize how many things Herman’s was (and possibly still is) doing right. We all certainly had a good time. When I listen to some of those bands - Yo Flaco, Irie Still - I’m transported right back to that foul-smelling green room in the basement and our endless conversations about how to make the next gig different, subversive, memorable. I hope there are bands down there right now inventing something as iconic as David Byrne and his herky-jerky boombox. Someone’s got to be our next great charlatan. I can't wait to hear it.
So tell me, you there, hi! What new discovery are you listening to right now? It doesn’t have to be new new, just new to you. For me it’s Big Thief, who sound like they're about to fall out of a tree.
In Stop Making Sense, the greatest concert video ever filmed, the Talking Heads both celebrate and subvert the act of performing. Their great magic trick is that they can make ironic performance art about rocking out, but also legitimately rock out, at the exact same time. The opening scene, Byrne toddling bug-eyed onto a bare stage with his boom box to squawk his way through Psycho Killer, is iconic - but as musician after musician is wheeled on to join him it gets bigger, and impossibly big and, finally, some sort of religious experience.
He's tense and nervous and he can't relax
The Heads’ ecstasy has always been both sincere and calculated, and when David Byrne self-diagnoses with some sort of Asperger’s, a few chapters into How Music Works, you nod. I don’t love throwing these terms around willy nilly, but it’s a big spectrum and he certainly does like analyzing patterns. The thing about having an immense gift and spending your life analyzing it is that you come up with some weird ideas, and here they all are in this book, which is almost always fascinating. Music evolves in response to the space it’s played in. A building is an instrument. Animals evolve their calls to different spectrums so as not to get in each others’ ways. "Albums" are a recent and unnecessary invention.
The danger with aging artists is that they’re the same as aging everyone else: lost in a world that’s moved on without them, scared and confused and rambling about the good old days. To his immense credit, Byrne largely avoids the deathtrap of nostalgia. The death of the music industry is a good thing. The new sounds coming out of computers, bearing no relationship to any acoustic chamber, are exciting and valid. My favorite example is the skittering fka twigs. What are these noises? Byrne has an essentially radical, proletarian soul. He doesn’t believe in "high art." Why, he asks, is the government subsidizing opera because not enough people want to pay for it? Maybe we just don’t like opera very much.
We agree on the necessity of new music. When you hear music from your adolescence, you're transported back to that time. If you don’t continue discovering new music then what, in years to come, will bring you back to now? And if nothing does, what have you lost? Music defines and celebrates phases of your life. If I were to give you three pieces of advice, the third would be to find new music.
The Talking Heads were part of one of the all-time great scenes: CBGB’s in the early 80s. Blondie and Television were there, too. Byrne spends a chapter analyzing what it was that made CBGB’s an incubator for such a scene, looking for patterns. He mentions as a living example Barbes in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where my wife and I used to spend a lot of time before we had a kid and left the city and bought a "lawnmower."
I was surprised to realize, as Byrne ticked off the qualities that make a scene a scene, that each and every one was true of Denver’s mighty Herman’s Hideaway, where I played regularly as part of a band called Flex Luther in the early aughts. The bands kept the door money. Musicians always got in free, as soon as the door guy learned (shockingly quickly!) to recognize you, for cross-pollination. Disparate acts were frequently thrown together, particularly on Hermans’ raucous New Music Wednesdays. The atmosphere was scrubby and anything went. As half-assed as it all felt at the time, we were a scene after all. Why didn’t we all get famous? Well, one of us did (we all thought they sucked, lol) but the rest of us, I’d argue, just weren’t good enough. I was no David Byrne, let me tell you.
Here's a rare shot of yours truly with hair
But it’s nice to realize how many things Herman’s was (and possibly still is) doing right. We all certainly had a good time. When I listen to some of those bands - Yo Flaco, Irie Still - I’m transported right back to that foul-smelling green room in the basement and our endless conversations about how to make the next gig different, subversive, memorable. I hope there are bands down there right now inventing something as iconic as David Byrne and his herky-jerky boombox. Someone’s got to be our next great charlatan. I can't wait to hear it.
So tell me, you there, hi! What new discovery are you listening to right now? It doesn’t have to be new new, just new to you. For me it’s Big Thief, who sound like they're about to fall out of a tree.
February 1, 2016
“But at times words can be a dangerous addition to music — they can pin it down. Words imply that the music is about what the words say, literally, and nothing more...
― David Byrne, How Music Works
...If done poorly, they can destroy the pleasant ambiguity that constitutes much of the reason we love music. That ambiguity allows listeners to psychologically tailor a song to suit their needs, sensibilities, and situations, but words can limit that, too. There are plenty of beautiful tracks that I can’t listen to because they’ve been “ruined” by bad words — my own and others. In Beyonce's song "Irreplaceable," she rhymes "minute" with "minute," and I cringe every time I hear it (partly because by that point I'm singing along). On my own song "Astronaut," I wrap up with the line "feel like I'm an astronaut," which seems like the dumbest metaphor for alienation ever. Ugh.”
― David Byrne, How Music Works
Like several nonfiction books I've read lately, my big complaint is I wish he just gave us more, dug a bit deeper, and perhaps hired a better editor. I like that the book was infused with his own populist, funky, musical biases. It seemed casual. Like talking to a really open person who isn't trying to hide or pull the shades on his own past. He didn't shy away from his own mistakes and his own life. He used Talking Heads and his own albums as examples of the different ways music can be done and sold. His interests allow this book to move from punk to African music to soundtracks, etc.
One of my favorite themes of Byrne's reminded me of the last book I read (The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction). David Byrne seemed passionate about not just music alone, but music's place in our social networks. How music is both a communication with others and reflective of our community. In his more zen moments he even rambles on about the music of the Universe, etc. Byrne's biases were occasionally annoying. He did seem to carry a pretty large dark spot right on-top of classic music's basic repertoire. His politics, or musical reactions to politics, also seems a bit naïve. But all is forgiven, in the end. This is a guy who is not afraid to put himself WAY out there, describe the scene as he sees it, and figure out a way to make the people around him want to dance. And THAT I guess says a lot and hides a multitude of minor sins as we dance into the darkness.
― David Byrne, How Music Works
...If done poorly, they can destroy the pleasant ambiguity that constitutes much of the reason we love music. That ambiguity allows listeners to psychologically tailor a song to suit their needs, sensibilities, and situations, but words can limit that, too. There are plenty of beautiful tracks that I can’t listen to because they’ve been “ruined” by bad words — my own and others. In Beyonce's song "Irreplaceable," she rhymes "minute" with "minute," and I cringe every time I hear it (partly because by that point I'm singing along). On my own song "Astronaut," I wrap up with the line "feel like I'm an astronaut," which seems like the dumbest metaphor for alienation ever. Ugh.”
― David Byrne, How Music Works
Like several nonfiction books I've read lately, my big complaint is I wish he just gave us more, dug a bit deeper, and perhaps hired a better editor. I like that the book was infused with his own populist, funky, musical biases. It seemed casual. Like talking to a really open person who isn't trying to hide or pull the shades on his own past. He didn't shy away from his own mistakes and his own life. He used Talking Heads and his own albums as examples of the different ways music can be done and sold. His interests allow this book to move from punk to African music to soundtracks, etc.
One of my favorite themes of Byrne's reminded me of the last book I read (The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction). David Byrne seemed passionate about not just music alone, but music's place in our social networks. How music is both a communication with others and reflective of our community. In his more zen moments he even rambles on about the music of the Universe, etc. Byrne's biases were occasionally annoying. He did seem to carry a pretty large dark spot right on-top of classic music's basic repertoire. His politics, or musical reactions to politics, also seems a bit naïve. But all is forgiven, in the end. This is a guy who is not afraid to put himself WAY out there, describe the scene as he sees it, and figure out a way to make the people around him want to dance. And THAT I guess says a lot and hides a multitude of minor sins as we dance into the darkness.
February 8, 2013
I approached Byrne's latest with a little trepidation, due to a less than stellar NY Times review, and due to the number of people in the music industry (notably his own former bandmates in Talking Heads) who feel somewhat mistreated by Byrne. I was ready to read something that might be a bit arrogant, but was pleasantly surprised to read a folksy, fun, and exuberantly-written series of essays about how the 21st-century music industry operates, how the disappearance of the physical artifact (CD or LP) will affect that industry, and how the arguments over how live and recorded music should be presented, processed, and marketed have antecedents stretching back into the 19th century.
There are aspects of arrangement of the book's material, and how certain material is presented, that would be less than optimal from my own point of view, but Byrne scores enough grand-slam home runs to merit this book an easy five-star ranking. He approaches some topics with a detached and Zen air that will drive some passionate music lovers crazy, but that is sort of Byrne's point. And his conclusions are usually ones I agree with.
Byrne really is trying to write two books, interspersing dual narratives. He is writing about the history of live performance and the advent of music recording a century ago, and he also wants to provide a partial memoir of his own work with Talking Heads, and as a solo artist. For the latter task, he elected to break the story up into live-performance history, recording-studio history, and scene-making (CBGBs, primarily) history. This may be a little maddening for those who want to sort out a linear history of Talking Heads, but it allows his memoir material to dovetail with his analytical material more effectively. (It also makes it easier for him to avoid talking frankly about how his collaborations with others sometimes dissolved in anger and recrimination - I will give Byrne points for quoting Pitchfork that "Byrne will collaborate with a bag of Doritos," and for titling a subsection "Plays Well with Others" - but he doesn't speak frankly enough about why he sometimes flunked the plays-well-with-others report card).
When talking about the Edison/Victrola recorded device wars of the early 20th century, he shows that the dispute between CD and LP fans over which medium sounds "warmer" is nothing new at all, but decades old. In analyzing the sound qualities of the cathedral and the juke joint, he shows how decisions about the musical instruments to use, the timbre, volume, and pitch, had everything to do with the performance space. In so doing, Byrne utterly rejects the idea that there is a "high art" (symphony hall, opera theater) vs. "low art" (barn dance or Irish pub) distinction to be made - in fact, he rejects the concept that there is "evolution" in music at all (except for the addition of electronic representation), insisting instead that there is only an ebb and flow. The African drum circle is as advanced as Stockhausen, in Byrne's eyes.
This struggle for egalitarian ears and a sense that "it's all good" may outrage some musical purists. Byrne admits that lossy compression such as MP3 has made consumers "crappier listeners," but then goes on to say that the result certainly isn't as bad as the 1960s transitor-radio sound, and that many people may make emotional attachments to music they hear in MP3 format. Similarly, he says that the tendency to initially sample musical phrases and later sample entire musical instrument sound libraries, may lead to vast archives of electronic music made entirely from a laptop, with no "real" musical instrument present. This can outrage traditional musicians, he says, but also allows a flexibility in the portfolios of Girl Talk, DangerMau5, etc. (though it may make it harder for the latter breed of musician to perform in a "live" concert).
What Byrne most adamantly rejects is the notion that a musician or a recording is more "authentic" because it was a scratchy field recording of the Alan Lomax variety, a lo-fi recording of the Pavement/GbV variety, or a live recording of real instruments in an Irish pub. A new kind of authentic behavior is built from inauthenticity, Byrne says, so we should be careful about rejecting anything. (A folkie musician at a live show in my home town had to put up with a woman in the audience constantly putting down hip-hop, and he finally said, "Maybe you just need to grow a new pair of ears.")
Byrne provides technology chapters to explain how music itself, and the task of recording it, was digitized and formatted in a way that was bound to eliminate the archival devices, just as the online world is slowly making the printed book fade from memory. He makes few technical mistakes in describing this, and scores wonderful observations regarding how technology changes both the emotional response to music, and the sense of music's texture and layering. He also provides an extended chapter on the business of being a musician in an era where the record label is disappearing. In the process of discussing six contractual business models, he is remarkably frank about the costs he entailed in making some of his own recent recordings, and which business methods proved profitable. He holds up Aimee Mann as an example of someone willing to try unusual business models for marketing and distribution, though he warns that an extreme DIY (do-it-yourself) model can be very expensive for the emerging musician, particularly if the musician is a business neophyte.
The chapters following the hard-headed 21st-century business analysis were a bit of a letdown. I loved the intent of his chapter on amateur music-festival presentations and funding models for getting amateur music underwritten, but the examples he chose seemed scattershot. What made the 'Amateurs!' chapter such a pleasure to read, even if only a partial success as a guide, was its denunciation of the arts-council aristocracy that only wants to legitimize the "high art" of concert hall. (Byrne loves to point out that the original Italian and German opera audiences were comprised of a bunch of uncouth loudmouths, often less polite than the moshers in the worst punk clubs.)
The final chapter, 'Harmonia Mundi,' had a great intent in pulling together global music trends, but I think he could have opted for a more analytical study of cross-cultural resonances. The analysis of Kepler's "music of the spheres" seemed a bit dated and almost alchemical, if not hippie-dippie. But he included a section on mirror-neurons and the rise of the empathic consciousness, so the book does not conclude in a full fizzle.
The most satisfying aspect of the book was not merely that Byrne likes all kinds of music from all kinds of cultures. Many writers on music agree with that. Byrne goes a step farther by discussing all aspects of music presentation, music recording, and the false claims of authenticity raised by many curators. The penniless blues musician sought by Lomax in the Mississippi Delta, and the billion-selling dancey-pop artist relying on all-electronic music libraries, both display different forms of authenticity in Byrne's eyes (and ears). This will be the aspect of the book that drives music purists mad. Maybe they just need to grow a new pair of ears.
There are aspects of arrangement of the book's material, and how certain material is presented, that would be less than optimal from my own point of view, but Byrne scores enough grand-slam home runs to merit this book an easy five-star ranking. He approaches some topics with a detached and Zen air that will drive some passionate music lovers crazy, but that is sort of Byrne's point. And his conclusions are usually ones I agree with.
Byrne really is trying to write two books, interspersing dual narratives. He is writing about the history of live performance and the advent of music recording a century ago, and he also wants to provide a partial memoir of his own work with Talking Heads, and as a solo artist. For the latter task, he elected to break the story up into live-performance history, recording-studio history, and scene-making (CBGBs, primarily) history. This may be a little maddening for those who want to sort out a linear history of Talking Heads, but it allows his memoir material to dovetail with his analytical material more effectively. (It also makes it easier for him to avoid talking frankly about how his collaborations with others sometimes dissolved in anger and recrimination - I will give Byrne points for quoting Pitchfork that "Byrne will collaborate with a bag of Doritos," and for titling a subsection "Plays Well with Others" - but he doesn't speak frankly enough about why he sometimes flunked the plays-well-with-others report card).
When talking about the Edison/Victrola recorded device wars of the early 20th century, he shows that the dispute between CD and LP fans over which medium sounds "warmer" is nothing new at all, but decades old. In analyzing the sound qualities of the cathedral and the juke joint, he shows how decisions about the musical instruments to use, the timbre, volume, and pitch, had everything to do with the performance space. In so doing, Byrne utterly rejects the idea that there is a "high art" (symphony hall, opera theater) vs. "low art" (barn dance or Irish pub) distinction to be made - in fact, he rejects the concept that there is "evolution" in music at all (except for the addition of electronic representation), insisting instead that there is only an ebb and flow. The African drum circle is as advanced as Stockhausen, in Byrne's eyes.
This struggle for egalitarian ears and a sense that "it's all good" may outrage some musical purists. Byrne admits that lossy compression such as MP3 has made consumers "crappier listeners," but then goes on to say that the result certainly isn't as bad as the 1960s transitor-radio sound, and that many people may make emotional attachments to music they hear in MP3 format. Similarly, he says that the tendency to initially sample musical phrases and later sample entire musical instrument sound libraries, may lead to vast archives of electronic music made entirely from a laptop, with no "real" musical instrument present. This can outrage traditional musicians, he says, but also allows a flexibility in the portfolios of Girl Talk, DangerMau5, etc. (though it may make it harder for the latter breed of musician to perform in a "live" concert).
What Byrne most adamantly rejects is the notion that a musician or a recording is more "authentic" because it was a scratchy field recording of the Alan Lomax variety, a lo-fi recording of the Pavement/GbV variety, or a live recording of real instruments in an Irish pub. A new kind of authentic behavior is built from inauthenticity, Byrne says, so we should be careful about rejecting anything. (A folkie musician at a live show in my home town had to put up with a woman in the audience constantly putting down hip-hop, and he finally said, "Maybe you just need to grow a new pair of ears.")
Byrne provides technology chapters to explain how music itself, and the task of recording it, was digitized and formatted in a way that was bound to eliminate the archival devices, just as the online world is slowly making the printed book fade from memory. He makes few technical mistakes in describing this, and scores wonderful observations regarding how technology changes both the emotional response to music, and the sense of music's texture and layering. He also provides an extended chapter on the business of being a musician in an era where the record label is disappearing. In the process of discussing six contractual business models, he is remarkably frank about the costs he entailed in making some of his own recent recordings, and which business methods proved profitable. He holds up Aimee Mann as an example of someone willing to try unusual business models for marketing and distribution, though he warns that an extreme DIY (do-it-yourself) model can be very expensive for the emerging musician, particularly if the musician is a business neophyte.
The chapters following the hard-headed 21st-century business analysis were a bit of a letdown. I loved the intent of his chapter on amateur music-festival presentations and funding models for getting amateur music underwritten, but the examples he chose seemed scattershot. What made the 'Amateurs!' chapter such a pleasure to read, even if only a partial success as a guide, was its denunciation of the arts-council aristocracy that only wants to legitimize the "high art" of concert hall. (Byrne loves to point out that the original Italian and German opera audiences were comprised of a bunch of uncouth loudmouths, often less polite than the moshers in the worst punk clubs.)
The final chapter, 'Harmonia Mundi,' had a great intent in pulling together global music trends, but I think he could have opted for a more analytical study of cross-cultural resonances. The analysis of Kepler's "music of the spheres" seemed a bit dated and almost alchemical, if not hippie-dippie. But he included a section on mirror-neurons and the rise of the empathic consciousness, so the book does not conclude in a full fizzle.
The most satisfying aspect of the book was not merely that Byrne likes all kinds of music from all kinds of cultures. Many writers on music agree with that. Byrne goes a step farther by discussing all aspects of music presentation, music recording, and the false claims of authenticity raised by many curators. The penniless blues musician sought by Lomax in the Mississippi Delta, and the billion-selling dancey-pop artist relying on all-electronic music libraries, both display different forms of authenticity in Byrne's eyes (and ears). This will be the aspect of the book that drives music purists mad. Maybe they just need to grow a new pair of ears.
July 6, 2019
As this started out, my heart started rolling her eyes. "Great," she said, "another pretentious white guy talking out his ass about music." Some annoyances from the first couple chapters include a lot of multicultural chatter that basically amounts to "I have a black friend!" + sweeping generalizations about disciplines he hasn't bothered to research (particularly media and literature). Ugh. I don't even like Talking Heads. Somewhere in the second chapter about Byrne's personal musical journey, I started dogearing pages to inform my sure-to-be scathing review.
Yet, here we are: sitting at a solid 3.5 stars, this was actually pretty great.
The reason it's not at 4 is because of a serious issue that I think, unfortunately, runs pretty rampant with non-fiction authors -- particularly anyone who's had any kind of fan attention. Exemplified as follows:
"If there has been a compositional response to MP3s and the era of private listening, I have yet to hear it...[description of potential responses, a few of which ARE actually happening (cf Venetian Snares, for one)]...If any of this is happening, I am unaware of it." (27)
Sure, you're unaware of it, that's fine. Maybe every editor who read the book was, too. But it's the arrogance required to present these points, these opinions, as facts -- and then build upon them in your arguments, as if they really are -- that is so frustrating as a reader. Byrne is really smart, and very talented. But he's not the be-all and end-all of music simply because he's spent a career producing it. There's a lot of theory missing from this book -- philosophers get name-dropped, but aside from that, it basically amounts to a bunch of observations and assertions from the brain of David Byrne.
Now: thankfully, it ends up being a pretty reflective and interesting brain. Reading about how musicians make money was genuinely fascinating -- probably the longest chapter of the book, "Business and Finances" was a highlight, partially because it did something all those other pontificating about music books don't: it treats music as a business, and Byrne is adamant that the business is part of the music-making process. So it's a lot of (actually) factual information and numbers, coupled with a reflexive take on how that can affect the music being released. Very cool. The technology chapters were also interesting (although peppered with a lot of those opinion-as-fact arguments), and overall, as the book went on, a lot of food for thought about how society consumes and shapes music. Byrne is big on culture-music symbiosis, which while also an opinion-as-fact argument, it's at least one I agree with, so.
The cherry on top, though, is the almost direct Fuck You to Robert Jourdain (of Music, The Brain, and Ecstasy non-fame, my review of which is linked above). One of the things I fucking hated about Jourdain's book was his obsession with Western classical art-music and complete snobby disdain for anything aside from Beethoven. Byrne takes that shit to fucking TOWN: championing pop, rock, and international music, he never directly references Jourdain -- but there are a few moments where the refutations are so precise, I wonder if Byrne is quietly sticking up his middle finger at him.
If not specifically to Jourdain, though, Byrne is definitely beating his chest against the upper crust of music fandom: calling them out, respectfully, and asking us all to consider the value of contemporary music. There are issues with the book itself. That second chapter was wholly unnecessary, and Byrne's personal life should only have been obliquely referenced when essential to make a point; it tried to do too much, and it was a bit overwhelming in its breadth as result -- and I question the structural strategy. On a personal note, there's nothing new about my constant interest: how music affects us emotionally. But it's a good read, and it comes closer to exploring how music really works, at least in the 21st century, than most of the pop-musicology books I've read thus far.
& I'll admit to having rocked out to Burning Down the House after I closed it.
WATCH OUT
Yet, here we are: sitting at a solid 3.5 stars, this was actually pretty great.
The reason it's not at 4 is because of a serious issue that I think, unfortunately, runs pretty rampant with non-fiction authors -- particularly anyone who's had any kind of fan attention. Exemplified as follows:
"If there has been a compositional response to MP3s and the era of private listening, I have yet to hear it...[description of potential responses, a few of which ARE actually happening (cf Venetian Snares, for one)]...If any of this is happening, I am unaware of it." (27)
Sure, you're unaware of it, that's fine. Maybe every editor who read the book was, too. But it's the arrogance required to present these points, these opinions, as facts -- and then build upon them in your arguments, as if they really are -- that is so frustrating as a reader. Byrne is really smart, and very talented. But he's not the be-all and end-all of music simply because he's spent a career producing it. There's a lot of theory missing from this book -- philosophers get name-dropped, but aside from that, it basically amounts to a bunch of observations and assertions from the brain of David Byrne.
Now: thankfully, it ends up being a pretty reflective and interesting brain. Reading about how musicians make money was genuinely fascinating -- probably the longest chapter of the book, "Business and Finances" was a highlight, partially because it did something all those other pontificating about music books don't: it treats music as a business, and Byrne is adamant that the business is part of the music-making process. So it's a lot of (actually) factual information and numbers, coupled with a reflexive take on how that can affect the music being released. Very cool. The technology chapters were also interesting (although peppered with a lot of those opinion-as-fact arguments), and overall, as the book went on, a lot of food for thought about how society consumes and shapes music. Byrne is big on culture-music symbiosis, which while also an opinion-as-fact argument, it's at least one I agree with, so.
The cherry on top, though, is the almost direct Fuck You to Robert Jourdain (of Music, The Brain, and Ecstasy non-fame, my review of which is linked above). One of the things I fucking hated about Jourdain's book was his obsession with Western classical art-music and complete snobby disdain for anything aside from Beethoven. Byrne takes that shit to fucking TOWN: championing pop, rock, and international music, he never directly references Jourdain -- but there are a few moments where the refutations are so precise, I wonder if Byrne is quietly sticking up his middle finger at him.
If not specifically to Jourdain, though, Byrne is definitely beating his chest against the upper crust of music fandom: calling them out, respectfully, and asking us all to consider the value of contemporary music. There are issues with the book itself. That second chapter was wholly unnecessary, and Byrne's personal life should only have been obliquely referenced when essential to make a point; it tried to do too much, and it was a bit overwhelming in its breadth as result -- and I question the structural strategy. On a personal note, there's nothing new about my constant interest: how music affects us emotionally. But it's a good read, and it comes closer to exploring how music really works, at least in the 21st century, than most of the pop-musicology books I've read thus far.
& I'll admit to having rocked out to Burning Down the House after I closed it.
WATCH OUT
April 10, 2018
Una maravilla de libro. De verdad, me gusta mucho más que el anterior, diarios de Bicicleta, me parece que se llamaba. Este es David con todo, y eso que no puedo decir que he seguido su carrera, aunque siempre he admirado su capacidad para hacer tantas cosas distintas, arte, performance, talking heads! Me encanta, es una celebración de la música, es inspirador, desde tips musicales, hasta de la industria. Me deja muy inspirada para salirme de la caja, para inventar, intentar, y seguir haciendo música. Muy recomendado.
June 7, 2017
There is a lot of information about musical roots and how musicians worked to perfect their sound according to what worked best with their style. I was fascinated by the facts about the designs of opera houses, concert halls and clubs.
There are some entertaining tidbits in this book which covers not only the history but the decisions on Byrne's bands, music, and even clothing choices. It was an enjoyable read and I was provided this paperback copy by Blogging for Books in exchange for an honest review.
One bonus was a massive amount of personal and informational pictures. All in all I enjoyed this book.
There are some entertaining tidbits in this book which covers not only the history but the decisions on Byrne's bands, music, and even clothing choices. It was an enjoyable read and I was provided this paperback copy by Blogging for Books in exchange for an honest review.
One bonus was a massive amount of personal and informational pictures. All in all I enjoyed this book.
July 14, 2018
This book fails to live up to its title, and indeed to the name of its author, who's musical career might lead you to expect that he has some interesting insight into the question of how music works.
What you get instead is a cursory and unfocused ramble through recent history of music technology and theory, loosely tied together with some personal anecdotes and sophomoric pseudo-philosophy courtesy of Byrne himself.
There are some interesting tidbits along the way, particularly some of the history of music technology, and he pays lip service to interesting theorists and musicians and movements. If you went through the book with a highlighter, you'd come up with a list of fascinating topics to read about. Unfortunately, Byrne usually goes into less depth than your typical Wikipedia introductory paragraph -- Kant's treatise on the nature of beauty is both introduced and dismissed outright in a single sentence -- and one is left with the sense that he hasn't actually done much research at all.
This might be forgivable if Byrne had some great insights to offer, but instead he comes off as simply naive. Quite strangely, he includes a rant against classical music, which evolves into a rant against the rich and the "elitists" who support the arts. Indeed throughout the book he champions the idea of amateurism over professionalism (which might explain his approach to writing the book itself).
It should perhaps not be a surprise, then, when his final chapter veers squarely into teenager-who-just-smoked-pot-for-the-first-time territory: "Woah man, what if we don't make music... What if music makes us?"
What you get instead is a cursory and unfocused ramble through recent history of music technology and theory, loosely tied together with some personal anecdotes and sophomoric pseudo-philosophy courtesy of Byrne himself.
There are some interesting tidbits along the way, particularly some of the history of music technology, and he pays lip service to interesting theorists and musicians and movements. If you went through the book with a highlighter, you'd come up with a list of fascinating topics to read about. Unfortunately, Byrne usually goes into less depth than your typical Wikipedia introductory paragraph -- Kant's treatise on the nature of beauty is both introduced and dismissed outright in a single sentence -- and one is left with the sense that he hasn't actually done much research at all.
This might be forgivable if Byrne had some great insights to offer, but instead he comes off as simply naive. Quite strangely, he includes a rant against classical music, which evolves into a rant against the rich and the "elitists" who support the arts. Indeed throughout the book he champions the idea of amateurism over professionalism (which might explain his approach to writing the book itself).
It should perhaps not be a surprise, then, when his final chapter veers squarely into teenager-who-just-smoked-pot-for-the-first-time territory: "Woah man, what if we don't make music... What if music makes us?"
January 4, 2013
Byrne gives us his take on music in a style that is very pleasant, straightforward, and conversational. He comes across as someone whose wide-ranging, collaborative experience and creative intelligence combine with an everyday kind of modesty in a way that allows you to imagine you could run into him in a club somewhere (he tries to take in at least one live performance a week) and have a good conversation, provided the music lets you (one of his criteria for a good music scene).
The title is a little bit of a misnomer--I wanted to see a parenthetical addendum, country-music-song-style, something along the lines of (And How It Doesn't) to indicate that some of the best parts of the book are those where Byrne looks askance at certain musical phenomena, e.g. the current state of elitist classical musical establishments (symphonies) or Muzak.
The book would be a great gift or recommendation for someone--especially a young person--who's passionate about listening to music but who hasn't really thought about it in any structured way, or alternatively for someone who has *only* had formal instruction.
I did have a few quibbles--"Technology Shapes Music" starts with sound recording, which is strange, considering that elsewhere in the book Byrne mentions the Neanderthal stone flute, surely a form of technology. It seems even stranger when, within the technology chapter, there's a section on "instrument technology and its influence on music" that starts with the theremin and implies that it's the first instrument to give Westerners "less culturally-specific options" allowing, for example, for non-Western bending of notes. This segues into a section on the electric guitar, which culminates in the story of its sound in the hands of Jimi Hendrix: "That unwritten law of staying true to the sound of a traditional instrument had been violently broken. ... As with Theremin and his instrument, the electric guitars were breaking free of history." There is a lot to argue with here, but I don't want to insult this excellent book by belaboring it; suffice it to say that whatever unwritten law there may have been in Western music, the first ones to break it were African-Americans "jazzing" the sound of trumpets, trombones, and saxophones.
But overall this is a fine and a fun book, and Byrne's perspective is admirably holistic: "I welcome the liberation of music from the prison of melody, rigid structure, and harmony. Why not? But I also listen to music that does adhere to those guidelines. Listening to the Music of the Spheres might be glorious, but I crave a concise song now and then, a narrative or a snapshot more than a whole universe."
The title is a little bit of a misnomer--I wanted to see a parenthetical addendum, country-music-song-style, something along the lines of (And How It Doesn't) to indicate that some of the best parts of the book are those where Byrne looks askance at certain musical phenomena, e.g. the current state of elitist classical musical establishments (symphonies) or Muzak.
The book would be a great gift or recommendation for someone--especially a young person--who's passionate about listening to music but who hasn't really thought about it in any structured way, or alternatively for someone who has *only* had formal instruction.
I did have a few quibbles--"Technology Shapes Music" starts with sound recording, which is strange, considering that elsewhere in the book Byrne mentions the Neanderthal stone flute, surely a form of technology. It seems even stranger when, within the technology chapter, there's a section on "instrument technology and its influence on music" that starts with the theremin and implies that it's the first instrument to give Westerners "less culturally-specific options" allowing, for example, for non-Western bending of notes. This segues into a section on the electric guitar, which culminates in the story of its sound in the hands of Jimi Hendrix: "That unwritten law of staying true to the sound of a traditional instrument had been violently broken. ... As with Theremin and his instrument, the electric guitars were breaking free of history." There is a lot to argue with here, but I don't want to insult this excellent book by belaboring it; suffice it to say that whatever unwritten law there may have been in Western music, the first ones to break it were African-Americans "jazzing" the sound of trumpets, trombones, and saxophones.
But overall this is a fine and a fun book, and Byrne's perspective is admirably holistic: "I welcome the liberation of music from the prison of melody, rigid structure, and harmony. Why not? But I also listen to music that does adhere to those guidelines. Listening to the Music of the Spheres might be glorious, but I crave a concise song now and then, a narrative or a snapshot more than a whole universe."
December 13, 2012
An uneven, often enjoyable, but ultimately disappointing read. My disappointment stems–as, I'm sure, will most readers' interest in the first place (mine included)–from my deep admiration and subsequent expectations of David Byrne. In the acknowledgments at the end of the book, Byrne writes that he didn't set out to write an aging rocker bio, nor a set of "think pieces," but a bit of both. The book is most interesting and successful in the biographical chapters: reading David Byrne's anecdotes and insights on the making of all those great Talking Heads records, et al., is immensely satisfying. But his philosophizing on broader musical issues is considerably less fulfilling (especially so, admittedly, for the reader who spends much of his personal and professional life immersed in the same issues; perhaps more interesting as entree to those concepts for the lay reader?). And I didn't appreciate the repudiation of classical music culture in the "Amateurs" chapter. It was a little hard to read, from Byrne's perspective, about how well funded classical music is, while dealing bitterly with my own orchestra's financial crisis; and it was disheartening to learn that one of my musical heroes doesn't particularly care for Bach, Mozart, or Beethoven.
But what the book lacks, in places, in depth and substance, it partly makes up for in Byrne's beguiling sincerity–the same quality that, for me, renders his music (there too, even when flawed) irresistible. Which reinforces my ultimate conclusion about this book: that I didn't get much from it as a treatise on how music works, but enjoyed it as a lens on David Byrne.
That–plus the conviction that it was certainly a better read than "The Baseball Codes"–saves this book from a 2-star rating.
But what the book lacks, in places, in depth and substance, it partly makes up for in Byrne's beguiling sincerity–the same quality that, for me, renders his music (there too, even when flawed) irresistible. Which reinforces my ultimate conclusion about this book: that I didn't get much from it as a treatise on how music works, but enjoyed it as a lens on David Byrne.
That–plus the conviction that it was certainly a better read than "The Baseball Codes"–saves this book from a 2-star rating.
November 29, 2012
I have been a Talking Heads listener for 30 years. For some reason that escapes me now I began to read How Music Works. To my delight I found it compelling.
While much of the text is almost a autobiographical narrative of the creating of Byrne's musical corpus, the role of that narrative is quite different than one might expect. I take the book to be a discussion, a philosophical discussion in the best sense, of the creative process. I am reminded of Wittgenstein's metaphor of coming to understand a concept by a detailed exploration of its neighborhood, approaching from every direction.
Byrne builds a case against the picture of the creative process as a kind of spasm of a tortured soul. While there are likely examples of that genesis of creativity, Byrne instead examines how all the different, divergent factors that impinge on music serve to constrain, enable, and shape the creation that flows from the artist's interests and desires, including extended discussions of venue, the activity of performance, the evolving economics of the music industry, transformative technology, the social scene, collaboration. The discussion is concrete, grounded in his personal narrative but also abstracted from it, distilled.
I might add that it is fascinating to watch Stop Making Sense in conjunction with the book's tale.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the creative process, from music to poetry to painting. It is a wise book.
While much of the text is almost a autobiographical narrative of the creating of Byrne's musical corpus, the role of that narrative is quite different than one might expect. I take the book to be a discussion, a philosophical discussion in the best sense, of the creative process. I am reminded of Wittgenstein's metaphor of coming to understand a concept by a detailed exploration of its neighborhood, approaching from every direction.
Byrne builds a case against the picture of the creative process as a kind of spasm of a tortured soul. While there are likely examples of that genesis of creativity, Byrne instead examines how all the different, divergent factors that impinge on music serve to constrain, enable, and shape the creation that flows from the artist's interests and desires, including extended discussions of venue, the activity of performance, the evolving economics of the music industry, transformative technology, the social scene, collaboration. The discussion is concrete, grounded in his personal narrative but also abstracted from it, distilled.
I might add that it is fascinating to watch Stop Making Sense in conjunction with the book's tale.
I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the creative process, from music to poetry to painting. It is a wise book.
January 2, 2021
Super fun and informative read that I as someone who's passionate about music and curious about its history, recording and distribution and importance in different cultures truly enjoyed.
David Byrne will already be familiar to those who have dipped into (or lived through) the music of the 80s, as he's the known as the driving force behind the wonderfully experimental band Talking Heads. I have to admit that this significantly influenced my decision of reading this, as I already hold his musical talent in high regard, but I ended up being positively surprised at his sincere opinions and well-researched knowledge on all the subjects he tackles in this book.
The book is written in a way where all the chapters can be read in any order one desires, as each focusses on a different aspect of music: we've got a retelling of his own musical journey, first with the Talking Heads and then as a solo artist; the importance and facets of performing music; how both digital and analoge technology has shaped music; how the financial side of things works and an argument on why every taste is valid and why elitism in music should be looked upon with a critical eye.
Laymen will probably gain the most from this. Not saying that he doesn't go in-depth enough with his tellings, but if you already work in the music industry you will simply already know a lot of these things, or have experienced them yourself. I however, particularly enjoyed his insight on how music has changed overtime, with society and technological advances having an inevitable influence on how music is made.
"Technology has altered the way music sounds, how it’s composed, and how we experience it. It has also flooded the world with music. The world is awash with (mostly) recorded sounds. We used to have to pay for music or make it ourselves; playing, hearing, and experiencing it was exceptional, a rare and special experience. Now hearing it is ubiquitous, and silence is the rarity that we pay for and savour."
As someone who's grown up with .mp3 files and iPods, I felt caught when Byrne noted that we now often think of recorded music as the definite version of a song, instead of a live performance of it. The sheer availability of music has changed its nature, just like various inventions have: when the recording disc was introduced for example, which could hold up to four minutes, artists were encouraged to record songs of lengths that would fit – and suddenly we had the 3:30 song length. Fascinating.
David Byrne will already be familiar to those who have dipped into (or lived through) the music of the 80s, as he's the known as the driving force behind the wonderfully experimental band Talking Heads. I have to admit that this significantly influenced my decision of reading this, as I already hold his musical talent in high regard, but I ended up being positively surprised at his sincere opinions and well-researched knowledge on all the subjects he tackles in this book.
The book is written in a way where all the chapters can be read in any order one desires, as each focusses on a different aspect of music: we've got a retelling of his own musical journey, first with the Talking Heads and then as a solo artist; the importance and facets of performing music; how both digital and analoge technology has shaped music; how the financial side of things works and an argument on why every taste is valid and why elitism in music should be looked upon with a critical eye.
Laymen will probably gain the most from this. Not saying that he doesn't go in-depth enough with his tellings, but if you already work in the music industry you will simply already know a lot of these things, or have experienced them yourself. I however, particularly enjoyed his insight on how music has changed overtime, with society and technological advances having an inevitable influence on how music is made.
"Technology has altered the way music sounds, how it’s composed, and how we experience it. It has also flooded the world with music. The world is awash with (mostly) recorded sounds. We used to have to pay for music or make it ourselves; playing, hearing, and experiencing it was exceptional, a rare and special experience. Now hearing it is ubiquitous, and silence is the rarity that we pay for and savour."
As someone who's grown up with .mp3 files and iPods, I felt caught when Byrne noted that we now often think of recorded music as the definite version of a song, instead of a live performance of it. The sheer availability of music has changed its nature, just like various inventions have: when the recording disc was introduced for example, which could hold up to four minutes, artists were encouraged to record songs of lengths that would fit – and suddenly we had the 3:30 song length. Fascinating.
July 28, 2023
David Byrne’ın kaleminden hem kendi kariyer yolculuğuna hem de genel olarak müzik endüstrisinin nasıl çalıştığına dair güzel bir kitap. Gerek ayırdığı bölüm başlıkları gerek de dozunda detaylarıyla güzel bir çerçeve çizmeyi başarıyor David Byrne. Yer yer fazla detaydan dağıldığım, ilgimi kaybettiğim oldu ama yine de kendi yolculuğunu endüstri üzerinden anlatma fikrini sevdim. Müzikle haşır neşir herkesin ilgisini çeker diye düşünüyorum.
July 11, 2018
David Byrne's How Music Works was a perfect book for me to take traveling—dense with information, observations and concrete advice, all organized in manageable sections and copioiusly illustrated. Byrne delivers most handsomely on his title's promise: these essays are nothing less than the collected ruminations of a multi-talented musician on his long-practiced and still vibrant craft.
Byrne is also (and not coincidentally, I'm sure) a lifelong neophile, whose mind has remained supple over the passage of decades.
I learned a lot from How Music Works, in fact. The unlikely history of audio tape recording, for just one example, a story I'd never seen elsewhere that involves both strangely-timed Nazi radio transmissions and Bing Crosby's passion for golf... as Byrne notes,
Or, say, the way your choice of software both fosters and limits creative options:
I also received reinforcement for some things that I already knew:
I've got to admit, this observation struck a chord (heh) with me:
*
Byrne also expresses scorn for rich folks who engage in "reputation laundering" (see p.313)—expiating their rapacious misdeeds by funding so-called "high" art—although he acknowledges that
*
In his Acknowledgements for How Music Works, David Byrne concedes that "—the 'aging rocker bio' is a crowded shelf—" (p.369). Now, I have read some very fine examples from that shelf—including Keith Richards' Life, Crazy Enough by Portland's own Storm Large, and I'll Sleep When I'm Dead by Crystal Zevon—but this is not that kind of work. Byrne does provide some biographical material—a couple of mentions of his daughter, for example, though not her name or her mother's name—but the focus here is on his professional life, as a musician who has remained relevant, both in and out of Talking Heads, for more than forty years. After all,
Byrne is also (and not coincidentally, I'm sure) a lifelong neophile, whose mind has remained supple over the passage of decades.
There are no hard and fast rules as far as I'm concerned.I was impressed by how many times throughout the book Byrne says something like 'that project didn't work out, but this is what I learned from it, and this is where we went from there...' He never comments directly on his adaptability, but it's a constant and reassuring backbeat nonetheless.
—p.106
I learned a lot from How Music Works, in fact. The unlikely history of audio tape recording, for just one example, a story I'd never seen elsewhere that involves both strangely-timed Nazi radio transmissions and Bing Crosby's passion for golf... as Byrne notes,
The sequence of events that led to the adoption of tape is so accidental and convoluted that its invention and adoption were far from inevitable.
—p.103
Or, say, the way your choice of software both fosters and limits creative options:
With the Microsoft presentation software PowerPoint, for example, you have to simplify your presentations so much that subtle nuances in the subject being discussed often get edited out. These nuances are not forbidden, they're not blocked, but including them tends to make for a less successful presentation. Likewise, that which is easy to bullet-point and simply visualize works better. That doesn't mean it actually is better; it means working in certain ways is simply easier than working in others. Music software is no different.
—p.132
I also received reinforcement for some things that I already knew:
The mixtapes we made for ourselves were musical mirrors. The sadness, anger, or frustration you might be feeling at a given time could be encapsulated in the song selection. You made mixtapes that corresponded to emotional states, and they'd be available to pop into the deck when each feeling needed reinforcing or soothing. The mixtape was your friend, your psychiatrist, and your solace.
—p.115
I've got to admit, this observation struck a chord (heh) with me:
I chatted with Cory Doctorow, an author and activist who prioritizes Internet freedom over the rights of musicians and artists, sometimes to their financial detriment.And from my (very) limited experience of the Twin Cities, this seemed plausible too:
—p.275
I remember coming up with the words for the song "(Nothing but) Flowers" while driving around suburban Minneapolis.About the only nit I could find to pick is a really tiny one: Byrne uses the word "provenance" several times (shades of Ann Leckie and her eponymous novel, which I just read, which is probably why this stood out for me)—and he doesn't always use it correctly. Aside from that, though...
—p.184
*
Like transmissions from a desperate planet.The filthy spectre of politics does occasionally, inescapably, creep into Byrne's discourse. Byrne was a major instigator and one of dozens of co-signers on a full-page ad (reproduced on p.195) against the invasion of Iraq in 2003, for example. But then it's difficult (if not impossible) to be a creative person in the U.S. without objecting to at least some of the backward steps this country's taken since the turn of the century...
—p.170
And, unlike religion, no one has ever gone to war over music.Yet, anyway—although TV's Murphy Brown did once say that "I'd like to think that one day people won't be judged by their color or their gender, but by the things that really matter—their taste in music."
—p.329
Byrne also expresses scorn for rich folks who engage in "reputation laundering" (see p.313)—expiating their rapacious misdeeds by funding so-called "high" art—although he acknowledges that
The 1 percent are certainly entitled to their tasteful shrines—it's their money after all, and they do invite us to the party sometimes.
—p.327
*
In his Acknowledgements for How Music Works, David Byrne concedes that "—the 'aging rocker bio' is a crowded shelf—" (p.369). Now, I have read some very fine examples from that shelf—including Keith Richards' Life, Crazy Enough by Portland's own Storm Large, and I'll Sleep When I'm Dead by Crystal Zevon—but this is not that kind of work. Byrne does provide some biographical material—a couple of mentions of his daughter, for example, though not her name or her mother's name—but the focus here is on his professional life, as a musician who has remained relevant, both in and out of Talking Heads, for more than forty years. After all,
Music isn't fragile.And David Byrne seems pretty robust himself.
—p.10
December 31, 2023
Byrne knygos išleidimo laukiau jau nuo tada, kai buvo nuspręsta, kad leisim. Nesu didžiulė muzikos žinovė, bet mane nuo vaikystės ji lydi kiekviename žingsnyje. Tėvų namuose nuo ryto iki vakaro nuolat skambėdavo įjungtas radijas. Einant, dirbant, važiuojant, skaitant, tvarkantis, nedarant nieko - muzika visuomet skamba kažkur šalia.
David Byrne visą savo meilę muzikai bei daugiametę patirtį surašė į išties puikią ir informatyvią knygą. Nuo istorijos apie besikeičiančius muzikos įrašymo būdus, pastato, kuriame grojama, svarbą skirtingiems žanrams. Iki finansinių ir leidybinių dalykų. Autorius aprašo skirtingas laikmenas, skirtingus muzikos vystymosi laikotarpius ir kai kuriuos aplinkos veiksnius dariusius ar darančius įtaką jos kaitai. Savo autobiografijos čia nerašo, tačiau nemažą dalį pavyzdžių, ypač susijusių su muzikos verslo puse, naudoja iš savo paties patirčių, sukauptų per daug muzikavimo metų.
Buvo labai įdomu skaityti ir apie leidybinę muzikos pusę ir palyginti ją su tuo, kaip veikia knygų leidyba. Pamatai, kad panašių problemų netrūksta nei vienoje, nei kitoje srityje. Kur dar tam tikra panika, kylanti, atsiradus naujoms muzikos dalinimos ar klausymo platformoms ir technologijoms (kiek kartų knygų leidybai buvo pranašautas krachas, nes atsirado tai televizija, tai audio, tai elektroninės knygos).
Byrne paliečia ir labai svarbų, kiek filosofinį, klausimą apie "gerą" ir "blogą" meną. Žinoma, daugiausiai kalba apie muziką, apie tai, kodėl manoma, kad klasikinė muzika yra teisinga, o dauguma kitų žanrų ne? Pateikia įvairių kultūrinių pamąstymų šia tema, į kurią įtraukia ir kitas meno sritis.
Taip pat "Kaip veikia muzika" tapo viena tų, retų knygų, kur dalis naudotos literatūros sąrašo gali atsidurti norimų perskaityti knygų sąraše :D
David Byrne visą savo meilę muzikai bei daugiametę patirtį surašė į išties puikią ir informatyvią knygą. Nuo istorijos apie besikeičiančius muzikos įrašymo būdus, pastato, kuriame grojama, svarbą skirtingiems žanrams. Iki finansinių ir leidybinių dalykų. Autorius aprašo skirtingas laikmenas, skirtingus muzikos vystymosi laikotarpius ir kai kuriuos aplinkos veiksnius dariusius ar darančius įtaką jos kaitai. Savo autobiografijos čia nerašo, tačiau nemažą dalį pavyzdžių, ypač susijusių su muzikos verslo puse, naudoja iš savo paties patirčių, sukauptų per daug muzikavimo metų.
Buvo labai įdomu skaityti ir apie leidybinę muzikos pusę ir palyginti ją su tuo, kaip veikia knygų leidyba. Pamatai, kad panašių problemų netrūksta nei vienoje, nei kitoje srityje. Kur dar tam tikra panika, kylanti, atsiradus naujoms muzikos dalinimos ar klausymo platformoms ir technologijoms (kiek kartų knygų leidybai buvo pranašautas krachas, nes atsirado tai televizija, tai audio, tai elektroninės knygos).
Byrne paliečia ir labai svarbų, kiek filosofinį, klausimą apie "gerą" ir "blogą" meną. Žinoma, daugiausiai kalba apie muziką, apie tai, kodėl manoma, kad klasikinė muzika yra teisinga, o dauguma kitų žanrų ne? Pateikia įvairių kultūrinių pamąstymų šia tema, į kurią įtraukia ir kitas meno sritis.
Taip pat "Kaip veikia muzika" tapo viena tų, retų knygų, kur dalis naudotos literatūros sąrašo gali atsidurti norimų perskaityti knygų sąraše :D
April 10, 2020
Fascinating. Even though I know nothing about music, not even to know the difference between a chord and a chorus, nor have I been able to either enjoy or appreciate Talking Heads or Byrne's other music, I thoroughly enjoyed most of this book. I do admit to feeling overwhelmed enough, or lost enough, to skim bits, but something on the next page would always draw me back in....
Most interesting stuff needs context and so is too long to share here, but I've got a few tidbits to offer:
"Some argue that it was the homegrown Indian cinema that forced that country's citizens to learn a common language, which may have helped Indians find national identity as much as the efforts of Gandhi did. And that common language eventually enabled the unity that led to the ouster of the British Empire."
(summarized from Ellen Dissanayake's Homo Aestheticus: Where Art Comes from and Why:) "all art forms were communally made, which had the effect of reinforcing a group's cohesion and thereby improving their chances of survival.... [and] maybe, like sports, making music can function as a game--a musical 'team' can do what an individual cannot. Music-making imparts lessons that reach well beyond songwriting and jamming."
(Quoted from John Philip Sousa, who, like Byrne, believes that ppl should be encouraged to make music, not to be passive consumers of it:) "The tide of amateurism cannot but recede, until there will be left only the mechanical device and the professional executants. Then what of the national throat? Will it not weaken? What of the national chest? Will it not shrink?"
Most interesting stuff needs context and so is too long to share here, but I've got a few tidbits to offer:
"Some argue that it was the homegrown Indian cinema that forced that country's citizens to learn a common language, which may have helped Indians find national identity as much as the efforts of Gandhi did. And that common language eventually enabled the unity that led to the ouster of the British Empire."
(summarized from Ellen Dissanayake's Homo Aestheticus: Where Art Comes from and Why:) "all art forms were communally made, which had the effect of reinforcing a group's cohesion and thereby improving their chances of survival.... [and] maybe, like sports, making music can function as a game--a musical 'team' can do what an individual cannot. Music-making imparts lessons that reach well beyond songwriting and jamming."
(Quoted from John Philip Sousa, who, like Byrne, believes that ppl should be encouraged to make music, not to be passive consumers of it:) "The tide of amateurism cannot but recede, until there will be left only the mechanical device and the professional executants. Then what of the national throat? Will it not weaken? What of the national chest? Will it not shrink?"
June 16, 2015
This is great. Good. Okay. All of the above. It’s unique (so far as I know): its closest relative is probably Miles Davis’s autobiography, or Byrne-friend Brian Eno’s Year With Swollen Appendices. It’s autobiographical, in a strictly professional/artistic sense – that is, concerned with music over personal experience – and I applaud that. Early on, when I was still in the “dipping-into” phase (something I do with all rock music books) I wondered, against my better judgement, if it was some kind of masterpiece. It seemed to come at music from all sides: composing, performing, producing; the use and manifestation of music in various times and cultures; the way a venue or a studio or (and I loved this bit) a technology (eg Pro Tools) affects/shapes what’s performed or recorded; even the dissemination and/or sale of music via old school music industry channels as opposed to the internet, including a pie-chart breakdown of Byrne’s income and expenditure on various projects both self-funded and label-released. What scope! For a musician, it seemed something like a map through the labyrinth. On second glance, having read it cover to cover, it ain’t all that. As usual when musicians discuss recording, there’s too little nuts and bolts. And, while Byrne’s knowledge is broad, he explores many topics shallowly rather than a few in depth. Maybe the lavish book design (by Mc Sweeney’s) led me to expect more – it certainly is pretty. But deep down it’s just a bunch of articles that half cohere, some of which happen to be great.
May 30, 2023
Probably one of the most inspiring books on music I’ve ever read. While I’m not a fan of David Byrne’s music efforts (to be honest I merely listened to him or Talking Heads), I love how the man writes.
The biggest advantage of the book is that it isn’t a biography, not it is memoir or whatever. It’s more like thoughts and some discussions about how music works (hence the title), why it’s like that, how we listened to it, and, most importantly why music is such important to us humans. Byrne often gives examples from his own experience, but he also refers to philosophers, other artists, thinkers and who or whatever you can imagine
I can’t agree with David in some minor points, but it doesn’t matter, because a perspective and his mindset is explained so good in his own words. And it’s very cool to read a point of view of a person of his scale, it’s a great inspiration, for music lovers, music makers but also people who are not involved with music a lot too!
The biggest advantage of the book is that it isn’t a biography, not it is memoir or whatever. It’s more like thoughts and some discussions about how music works (hence the title), why it’s like that, how we listened to it, and, most importantly why music is such important to us humans. Byrne often gives examples from his own experience, but he also refers to philosophers, other artists, thinkers and who or whatever you can imagine
I can’t agree with David in some minor points, but it doesn’t matter, because a perspective and his mindset is explained so good in his own words. And it’s very cool to read a point of view of a person of his scale, it’s a great inspiration, for music lovers, music makers but also people who are not involved with music a lot too!
May 8, 2015
Si fuera por el contenido este libro tendría sus cinco estrellas. La estrella que le falta es culpa del editor. Byrne lo dice al principio que él no es escritor y que no sabe como acomodar un libro. Pero pues para eso tienes un editor, la única falla que le veo al libro es orden. Brinca de capítulo en capítulo en temas muy diferentes. Y me parece que pudiera tener un mejor orden si el editor hubiera hecho su trabajo.
Dicho esto:
El libro está super bueno. Ya sea que sabes mucho de música o si estás empezando este libro te puede enseñar chingo de cosas del tema. Nunca creí que podría admirar más a Byrne, pero después de leer este libro de verdad creo que es infravalorado en el mundo de la música. Sé que es de culto pero de verdad debería tener más atención.
La cosa es que va desde teoría musical hasta anécdotas con los talking heads y con todos los que ha hecho colaboraciones, que son muchos. Te guste o no Byrne el libro esta muy interesante. Da un panorama muy amplio de como funciona la música en todos los aspectos. Desde cifras duras hasta metáforas complejas.
Y ahora un gif de Byrne bailando
Dicho esto:
El libro está super bueno. Ya sea que sabes mucho de música o si estás empezando este libro te puede enseñar chingo de cosas del tema. Nunca creí que podría admirar más a Byrne, pero después de leer este libro de verdad creo que es infravalorado en el mundo de la música. Sé que es de culto pero de verdad debería tener más atención.
La cosa es que va desde teoría musical hasta anécdotas con los talking heads y con todos los que ha hecho colaboraciones, que son muchos. Te guste o no Byrne el libro esta muy interesante. Da un panorama muy amplio de como funciona la música en todos los aspectos. Desde cifras duras hasta metáforas complejas.
Y ahora un gif de Byrne bailando
September 8, 2012
My review for Amazon's Best Books of the Month: It's no surprise that David Byrne knows his music. As the creative force behind Talking Heads and many solo and collaborative ventures, he's been writing, playing, and recording music for decades. What is surprising is how well his voice translates to the page. In this wide-ranging, occasionally autobiographical analysis of the evolution and inner workings of the music industry, Byrne explores his own deep curiosity about the "patterns in how music is written, recorded, distributed, and received." He is an opinionated and well-educated tour guide, and the resulting essays--on topics from rockers' clothes to the role of the turntable, concert stages to recording studios--will give you an entirely new perspective on the complex journey a song takes from conception to your iPod. --Neal Thompson
August 14, 2019
The book was totally amazing.
March 16, 2020
4 Stars for How Music Works (audiobook) by David Byrne read by Walter Dixon. This is a really informative book. If you’re just interested in music or planning on starting a band this is great book for you. Particularly if you’re a fan of the band Talking Heads. David Byrne explains everything from why songs are three minutes long to how a 360 music contract works and everything in between.
March 23, 2017
Det er præcis det titlen siger: En minutiøs gennemgang af 'hvordan musik virker' og dermed mener han det hele: hvordan lyd påvirker os, hvor meget kontekst spiller ind, hvordan teknologiudviklingen former musikken, hvordan man skaber musik, samarbejder kreativt, performance, optagelser og ikke mindst businesssiden: hvordan tjener artisterne penge, hvad gør pladeselskaberne osv. (og vi får hans egne regnskaber for et par plader for at anskueliggøre forskellige forretningsmodeller). Der er også en handy opskrift på at skabe en kreativ musik scene a la CBGBs. Men vi kommer også omkring vigtigheden af amatørerne og at lære at lave musik selv - og dermed musikundervisning (eller manglen på samme nu om dage) og sidst men ikke mindst den spirituelle side af musik og universets og menneskekroppens lyde - og sådan lærte jeg at universet spiller blues!!
David Byrne kommer rundt om de fleste processer og kontekster for det han elsker: musikken - og han slipper godt fra at bruge sine egne erfaringer som eksempler på sine mere generelle pointer, for dette er ikke en rockstjernes memoirer, det er en seriøs bog om hvordan musik skabes og hvad det er. Det er en super nørdet bog, men tilgængelig - selv om vi kommer langt ned i detaljerne er de enkelte kapitler ikke så lange at det bliver for meget - og det slog mig hvor modulær bogen er. Som kultur-, business- eller musikunderviser kan man let tage et enkelt kapitel ud af sammenhængen og få en fin gennemgang af fx klubscener, deals med og uden pladeselskaber eller musikalske skalaer på tværs af kulturer. Og det er forfriskende for en amerikansk musiker, hvor internationalt et blik han også har på musikken.
David Byrne kommer rundt om de fleste processer og kontekster for det han elsker: musikken - og han slipper godt fra at bruge sine egne erfaringer som eksempler på sine mere generelle pointer, for dette er ikke en rockstjernes memoirer, det er en seriøs bog om hvordan musik skabes og hvad det er. Det er en super nørdet bog, men tilgængelig - selv om vi kommer langt ned i detaljerne er de enkelte kapitler ikke så lange at det bliver for meget - og det slog mig hvor modulær bogen er. Som kultur-, business- eller musikunderviser kan man let tage et enkelt kapitel ud af sammenhængen og få en fin gennemgang af fx klubscener, deals med og uden pladeselskaber eller musikalske skalaer på tværs af kulturer. Og det er forfriskende for en amerikansk musiker, hvor internationalt et blik han også har på musikken.
April 5, 2020
Издательство Альпина Нон-фикшн при поддержке «Института музыкальных инициатив» и «Московского Политеха» выпустило на русском книгу Дэвида Бирна "Как работает музыка". И это единственная книга о музыке, которую вам нужно прочитать в этой жизни.
Даже если вы не слышали / не любите Talking Heads, не следили за сольным творчеством Бирна, его подход к исследованию музыки напоминает работу учёного или архитектора который объясняет, что вон те гаргульи и загогулины не просто так, а чтобы было классно. Можно оставить музыку саму по себе и она все равно будет меняться за счёт внешних факторов. Бирн приводит отличный пример — музыканты стали делать более детализированное звучание с того момента, когда в концертных залах слушателям запретили пить и есть. Теперь люди заняты прослушиванием музыки, а не собственным чавканьем. Кроме того, Бирн не считает, что термин "эволюция" вообще применим к музыке — например, звуки африканских барабанов тысячелетней давности ничем не уступают современной электро��ной музыке. Сюрприз! Музыка из прошлого ничем не хуже той, что мы с вами еще не слышали.
Конечно же Дэвид Бирн не обошел стороной свои творческие будни, поэтому книга также рекомендуется поклонникам Talking Heads. Бирн весело и с теплотой рассказывает обо всей кухне, в том числе о затратах на запись, гонорарах музыкантов (например, Мадонны) и даже о стиле в одежде — например о создании того самого широкоплечего костюма, который воплотил пословицу «На сцене всё всегда должно быть больше, чем в жизни».
Вместе с тем Бирн объясняет, что нельзя воспринимать всерьез тех, кто говорит, что ему нравится "разная музыка", как воспринимается музыка с позиции вкусовщины, как создаются новые ритуалы, а также посвятил целую главу вопросам распространения музыки — сколько стоит напечатать винил, почему формат MP3 хуже винила, но это нормально и правильно.
Бирн говорит, что музыканту особенно важно выступать живьём, потому что площадка с его эхом, реверберацией и гашением волн всегда влияет на звук и, как итог, на самого музыканта. Особенно приятно, что Бирн даёт ответ на беспокоящий всех вопрос: почему музыканты не играют на концертах ваши любимые песни. Все просто — концерт проходит на неправильной площадке, здесь эта песня из-за стен, площади и акустической системы может превратиться в кашу.
Что примечательно, книга написана в 2012 году до выхода альбома American Utopia, но между строк уже читается его желание поработать с современными продюсерами на пике актуальности. Поэтому над работой American Utopia, помимо привычного Брайана Ино, приняли участие герои модерновой электроники: Oneohtrix Point Never, Jam City, Happa, Airhead и другие.
Эту книгу обязательно нужно включить в теоретический курс музыкальной школы, потому что порой она напоминает нескучный учебник на действительно интересную тему, охватывающий не только историю создания музыки, но также влияния технологий как на процесс записи, так и на новые источники вдохновения. И этот запал передаётся читателю — хочется скачать простенькую музыкальную программу, сбежать в заброшку и сочинить свой первый сингл.
Даже если вы не слышали / не любите Talking Heads, не следили за сольным творчеством Бирна, его подход к исследованию музыки напоминает работу учёного или архитектора который объясняет, что вон те гаргульи и загогулины не просто так, а чтобы было классно. Можно оставить музыку саму по себе и она все равно будет меняться за счёт внешних факторов. Бирн приводит отличный пример — музыканты стали делать более детализированное звучание с того момента, когда в концертных залах слушателям запретили пить и есть. Теперь люди заняты прослушиванием музыки, а не собственным чавканьем. Кроме того, Бирн не считает, что термин "эволюция" вообще применим к музыке — например, звуки африканских барабанов тысячелетней давности ничем не уступают современной электро��ной музыке. Сюрприз! Музыка из прошлого ничем не хуже той, что мы с вами еще не слышали.
Конечно же Дэвид Бирн не обошел стороной свои творческие будни, поэтому книга также рекомендуется поклонникам Talking Heads. Бирн весело и с теплотой рассказывает обо всей кухне, в том числе о затратах на запись, гонорарах музыкантов (например, Мадонны) и даже о стиле в одежде — например о создании того самого широкоплечего костюма, который воплотил пословицу «На сцене всё всегда должно быть больше, чем в жизни».
Вместе с тем Бирн объясняет, что нельзя воспринимать всерьез тех, кто говорит, что ему нравится "разная музыка", как воспринимается музыка с позиции вкусовщины, как создаются новые ритуалы, а также посвятил целую главу вопросам распространения музыки — сколько стоит напечатать винил, почему формат MP3 хуже винила, но это нормально и правильно.
Бирн говорит, что музыканту особенно важно выступать живьём, потому что площадка с его эхом, реверберацией и гашением волн всегда влияет на звук и, как итог, на самого музыканта. Особенно приятно, что Бирн даёт ответ на беспокоящий всех вопрос: почему музыканты не играют на концертах ваши любимые песни. Все просто — концерт проходит на неправильной площадке, здесь эта песня из-за стен, площади и акустической системы может превратиться в кашу.
Что примечательно, книга написана в 2012 году до выхода альбома American Utopia, но между строк уже читается его желание поработать с современными продюсерами на пике актуальности. Поэтому над работой American Utopia, помимо привычного Брайана Ино, приняли участие герои модерновой электроники: Oneohtrix Point Never, Jam City, Happa, Airhead и другие.
Эту книгу обязательно нужно включить в теоретический курс музыкальной школы, потому что порой она напоминает нескучный учебник на действительно интересную тему, охватывающий не только историю создания музыки, но также влияния технологий как на процесс записи, так и на новые источники вдохновения. И этот запал передаётся читателю — хочется скачать простенькую музыкальную программу, сбежать в заброшку и сочинить свой первый сингл.
March 16, 2017
Three stars because i liked it. Its more of a 3.5 , but rounding down because too many issues.
This book is a classic case of the whole being less than the sum of its parts. Part autobiography, part pop-sci book on music, part New Yorker-style expose on the nature of the arts. You get bits of all of it, but you cant help feeling that you are missing out on a lot. Maybe thats the point - a jumping off point? Except you don't really know what you are missing.
For a book that is about "how music works" , he focuses less on the method and more on the impacts of music. I was hoping for much more detail about teh origin and history of different parts of music - beats, vocals, grooves, melodies, chords - from an international perspective. You get a little bit of that, but its just a taste. That can be frustrating. Perhaps if this book was named "David Byrne's book about of a bunch of musically related stuff" i would be complaining less.
I dont feel this book is edited well at all. The beginning is part of the music history/theory background, then it jumps into a big Talking heads section, dives into complexity of music contracts, moves on to all David byrne side project references, and then settles on jamming in every pseduo-political stance and a whole bunch of music theory. It all feels very disjointed. The last bits of the book thematically belong with the first bits. if you wanted to mix it up, has to be evenly dispersed throughout. unfortunately thats not the case here. Im sure the editors did there best - probably not enough raw material for as wide of a scope envisioned.
As a big Talking Heads fan, i enjoyed getting to know David through the conversational tone presented as well as the myriad anecdotes. He contradicts Jonathem Lethem multiple times in discussing Fear of Music - i enjoyed that. As a New Yorker, i enjoyed the local references and vivid depictions of bygone crime-ridden manahttan.
I would have enjoyed a full on autobiography probably a lot more than this book though.
I liked it - 3 stars. Will look for in-depth books on musical construction elsewhere.
This book is a classic case of the whole being less than the sum of its parts. Part autobiography, part pop-sci book on music, part New Yorker-style expose on the nature of the arts. You get bits of all of it, but you cant help feeling that you are missing out on a lot. Maybe thats the point - a jumping off point? Except you don't really know what you are missing.
For a book that is about "how music works" , he focuses less on the method and more on the impacts of music. I was hoping for much more detail about teh origin and history of different parts of music - beats, vocals, grooves, melodies, chords - from an international perspective. You get a little bit of that, but its just a taste. That can be frustrating. Perhaps if this book was named "David Byrne's book about of a bunch of musically related stuff" i would be complaining less.
I dont feel this book is edited well at all. The beginning is part of the music history/theory background, then it jumps into a big Talking heads section, dives into complexity of music contracts, moves on to all David byrne side project references, and then settles on jamming in every pseduo-political stance and a whole bunch of music theory. It all feels very disjointed. The last bits of the book thematically belong with the first bits. if you wanted to mix it up, has to be evenly dispersed throughout. unfortunately thats not the case here. Im sure the editors did there best - probably not enough raw material for as wide of a scope envisioned.
As a big Talking Heads fan, i enjoyed getting to know David through the conversational tone presented as well as the myriad anecdotes. He contradicts Jonathem Lethem multiple times in discussing Fear of Music - i enjoyed that. As a New Yorker, i enjoyed the local references and vivid depictions of bygone crime-ridden manahttan.
I would have enjoyed a full on autobiography probably a lot more than this book though.
I liked it - 3 stars. Will look for in-depth books on musical construction elsewhere.
September 25, 2012
As much as I am a fan of Talking Heads and David Byrne, when he wrote a book about bicycling a couple of years ago, I picked it up but I didn't get very far. Not a big fan of bicycles. But I am a big fan of music. So when David Byrne writes a book explaining music, I AM THERE.
This should be required reading for anyone who has even a sliver of desire for making music for a living. You don't need to be a fan of Byrne's music to appreciate the fruits of his experience, talent and insight. This is a man who knows what he's talking about with music, and he wants you to understand all that he's learned.
Even readers whose passion for music begins and ends at the record store will learn tons from Byrne's music history lessons and his recollections from decades of studio recording and touring. At times his book flirts with autobiography, yet falls short of telling juicy tales out of class. Byrne's writing is personable yet at all times scholarly. But not stuffy. This is the hip old music professor who you wished you could have a beer with after class.
Byrne's writing style is witty and glib throughout, which is especially useful as he trods through some of the drier territories of music theory and the economics of the record industry. He is great at keeping the reader awake and engaged through some pretty heady stuff.
I found myself riveted to this book from beginning to end, and I was a little bummed when I got to the acknowledgments page. If you love music, there's plenty in this book to educate and entertain you.
This should be required reading for anyone who has even a sliver of desire for making music for a living. You don't need to be a fan of Byrne's music to appreciate the fruits of his experience, talent and insight. This is a man who knows what he's talking about with music, and he wants you to understand all that he's learned.
Even readers whose passion for music begins and ends at the record store will learn tons from Byrne's music history lessons and his recollections from decades of studio recording and touring. At times his book flirts with autobiography, yet falls short of telling juicy tales out of class. Byrne's writing is personable yet at all times scholarly. But not stuffy. This is the hip old music professor who you wished you could have a beer with after class.
Byrne's writing style is witty and glib throughout, which is especially useful as he trods through some of the drier territories of music theory and the economics of the record industry. He is great at keeping the reader awake and engaged through some pretty heady stuff.
I found myself riveted to this book from beginning to end, and I was a little bummed when I got to the acknowledgments page. If you love music, there's plenty in this book to educate and entertain you.
January 11, 2020
An odd book, but I really liked it. Partly about his own life as a musician, partly about the music business, partly about what music actually is, partly about how music fits in with human psychology and culture. Maybe there are some other parts too... I love Byrne’s conversational writing style. He doesn’t sound at all like a professional book-writer, more like a wonderfully intelligent and knowledgeable yet humble and self-deprecating friend sitting in your living room and just speaking to you as a peer.
May 2, 2021
De los mejores libros de música que he leído en mi vida.
Muy completo, muy util para gente que está en el medio tanto para gente que tiene curiosidad de cómo funciona la indsutria, la vida de los artistas, los proceso de grabación y de más.
De verdad, 100% recomendado.
Muy completo, muy util para gente que está en el medio tanto para gente que tiene curiosidad de cómo funciona la indsutria, la vida de los artistas, los proceso de grabación y de más.
De verdad, 100% recomendado.
December 9, 2013
I expected ex-Talking Heads front man and eclectic solo artist David Byrne would have some interesting things to say about music. But I was impressed by the scope and range of How Music Works. Byrne covers nearly every aspect of creating and enjoying music from the first steps of composing and to the nuances of performance to producing and promoting. Plus he puts it in sync with the world we live in never forgetting that music is a vital and ever-changing aspect of existence.
Byrne approaches music in what I call an ethno-centric view. Perhaps "Techno-centric" may be a better term considering how much he focuses on the modern recording aspects. Byrns uses the term "creation in reverse." He does not see music as arising from just the emotional interior of the creator's mind but through an interactive process that is affected by our surroundings; social, cultural, politically, technological, and physical. He discusses how certain types of music responds to certain surroundings. When you think of it, it makes sense. It is hard to think of punk rock rising from the symphony hall and much easier to see it coming out of dark crowded clubs such as New York's CBGB. His style of writing is fairly meandering but he structures those meanderings in chapters like Technology Shapes Music", "In the Recording Studio", "How to Make a Scene" (about performing live), and even "Business and Finances". By the end of the book you not only have a good sense what goes into that MP3 you just downloaded but how that music has changed from the day of live performance only before music could be recorded.
While not an autobiography, Byrne relies strongly on his own experiences, giving the reader an intimate look at his own creative process both in and out of the studio. He uses his own story to illustrate his various ideas of creation in reverse. One of the things I found revealing is his description on how the various forms of recording affects the way we perceive music. The limits of the sound and durations of the first Edison discs gave the early 20th century listeners a different experience than the LPs, cassettes and CDs we are used to, not to mention the revolution of digital files. Byrne's assertions about our expectations of recorded music vs. live music was quite insightful. We tend to think of the recording of a song as the "real" version in that we expect the artist to recreate it in his live performances. Yet the recorded version is a frozen moment of time aided by the technical constraint of the recording studio, whether analog or digital The artist's live performance may be different but just as authentic relying on all the cultural and aural surroundings of the moment.
Byrnes' impressive book is notable for the way it causes the reader to reassess modern music. He asks us to take in more than just sounds and pay attention to the way we receive the music in its social and natural settings. There's a lot to take in here yet the author manages to keep it exciting and relevant. I would recommend this book to anyone who cares about music.
Byrne approaches music in what I call an ethno-centric view. Perhaps "Techno-centric" may be a better term considering how much he focuses on the modern recording aspects. Byrns uses the term "creation in reverse." He does not see music as arising from just the emotional interior of the creator's mind but through an interactive process that is affected by our surroundings; social, cultural, politically, technological, and physical. He discusses how certain types of music responds to certain surroundings. When you think of it, it makes sense. It is hard to think of punk rock rising from the symphony hall and much easier to see it coming out of dark crowded clubs such as New York's CBGB. His style of writing is fairly meandering but he structures those meanderings in chapters like Technology Shapes Music", "In the Recording Studio", "How to Make a Scene" (about performing live), and even "Business and Finances". By the end of the book you not only have a good sense what goes into that MP3 you just downloaded but how that music has changed from the day of live performance only before music could be recorded.
While not an autobiography, Byrne relies strongly on his own experiences, giving the reader an intimate look at his own creative process both in and out of the studio. He uses his own story to illustrate his various ideas of creation in reverse. One of the things I found revealing is his description on how the various forms of recording affects the way we perceive music. The limits of the sound and durations of the first Edison discs gave the early 20th century listeners a different experience than the LPs, cassettes and CDs we are used to, not to mention the revolution of digital files. Byrne's assertions about our expectations of recorded music vs. live music was quite insightful. We tend to think of the recording of a song as the "real" version in that we expect the artist to recreate it in his live performances. Yet the recorded version is a frozen moment of time aided by the technical constraint of the recording studio, whether analog or digital The artist's live performance may be different but just as authentic relying on all the cultural and aural surroundings of the moment.
Byrnes' impressive book is notable for the way it causes the reader to reassess modern music. He asks us to take in more than just sounds and pay attention to the way we receive the music in its social and natural settings. There's a lot to take in here yet the author manages to keep it exciting and relevant. I would recommend this book to anyone who cares about music.
February 27, 2019
I felt like I learned a lot about music by reading this. I knew almost nothing when I started reading, and it's nice to read a book where you feel like you have learned something from every page. It's remarkably comprehensive too, with chapters on the theory, practice, history, creation, and business of music. It's all here, and presented in a way that even a music noob like me can understand and process. There are so many thought provoking nuggets in this book, I almost feel like I want to quote something from every chapter. It's been a while since a book has gotten me this excited. Here are some examples:
"If there has been a compositional response to MP3s and the era of private listening I have yet to hear it. One would expect music that is a soothing flood of ambient moods as a way to relax and decompress, or maybe dense and complex compositions that reward repeated playing and attentive listening, maybe intimate or rudely erotic vocals that would be inappropriate to blast in public but that you could enjoy privately."
Oh David. I have such sights to show you.
I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to music. Hopefully this book will help that. I have already learned a lot about composition and genres in these first few pages. I'm wondering if David isn't right on the money with his predictions here:
"...a soothing flood of ambient moods as a way to relax and decompress": Did David predict the rise of ASMR? Also there is allot of "Music to relax and study to", basically ambient background music, on Youtube and other streaming sites:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHW1o...
(I like to give my sources :P)
"...or maybe dense and complex compositions that reward repeated playing and attentive listening": I'm wondering if allot of what is put out as "Dubstep" and "Chip Tunes" Would qualify here. Dubstep is certainly "Dense", at least I think so:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMqzV...
"...maybe intimate or rudely erotic vocals that would be inappropriate to blast in public but that you could enjoy privately.": Someone in the UK attempted to play one of Ruckas songs during a garden party and police helicopters showed up. No really. That actually happened:
(Link Not Safe For Work. Especially if you work at the pentagon)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZYoi...
Here is another example of his work: Don't look at this link. Seriously if you do it's your own fault. Not safe for work. At all. Like, ever. Your not old enough. Nobody is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tln8w...
McDonald's also got in trouble for playing this particular song in their restaurant. No really. That happened too.
Stay Classy internet.
In the chapter "Amateurs!" he claims that the attitude that if something is popular, or populist, it is also bad, or inferior, is inherently elitist. He may have some bias being a creator of popular music, but I am inclined to agree. He also points out the gate-keeping that tends to accompany this rather bourgeois attitude.
"If there has been a compositional response to MP3s and the era of private listening I have yet to hear it. One would expect music that is a soothing flood of ambient moods as a way to relax and decompress, or maybe dense and complex compositions that reward repeated playing and attentive listening, maybe intimate or rudely erotic vocals that would be inappropriate to blast in public but that you could enjoy privately."
Oh David. I have such sights to show you.
I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to music. Hopefully this book will help that. I have already learned a lot about composition and genres in these first few pages. I'm wondering if David isn't right on the money with his predictions here:
"...a soothing flood of ambient moods as a way to relax and decompress": Did David predict the rise of ASMR? Also there is allot of "Music to relax and study to", basically ambient background music, on Youtube and other streaming sites:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHW1o...
(I like to give my sources :P)
"...or maybe dense and complex compositions that reward repeated playing and attentive listening": I'm wondering if allot of what is put out as "Dubstep" and "Chip Tunes" Would qualify here. Dubstep is certainly "Dense", at least I think so:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMqzV...
"...maybe intimate or rudely erotic vocals that would be inappropriate to blast in public but that you could enjoy privately.": Someone in the UK attempted to play one of Ruckas songs during a garden party and police helicopters showed up. No really. That actually happened:
(Link Not Safe For Work. Especially if you work at the pentagon)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZYoi...
Here is another example of his work: Don't look at this link. Seriously if you do it's your own fault. Not safe for work. At all. Like, ever. Your not old enough. Nobody is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tln8w...
McDonald's also got in trouble for playing this particular song in their restaurant. No really. That happened too.
Stay Classy internet.
In the chapter "Amateurs!" he claims that the attitude that if something is popular, or populist, it is also bad, or inferior, is inherently elitist. He may have some bias being a creator of popular music, but I am inclined to agree. He also points out the gate-keeping that tends to accompany this rather bourgeois attitude.
August 18, 2019
I tried.
I really tried.
I read more than half of this pseudo-intellectual, wandering, extemporaneous half-bio, half musings on music, giving it such a chance no doubt simply because David Byrne wrote it. Because I like a handful of his songs, and he seems cool, and honestly - trying to read this seriously was the most hipster thing I've done in forever.
Basically, Byrne has given the world two books - the bio of his time in music and the development of the Talking Heads, and a basic Music History 101 book, cobbled together with dinner conversation trivia pilfered through years of sitting with artistic intellectuals.
The pain of this book is that the actual premise he sets up - discussing Music through it's development, it's selling and it's effect on people - as well as the more dynamic sections on it's creation - are a great idea. The problem is, he's just not an expert on it. He thinks he is, and I was hoping he'd be. But I kept on going through the book and saying, 'Yeah - duh. I know. Yup. Duh. Who doesn't know that?' He glosses over really meaty subjects as a pseudo-expert, but then switches gears to talk about his career when it's clear he's exhausted his focus on the subject.
It's a pain to read, what is essentially two different books, shuffled together, into one entirely unappetizing monologue by a dude that has decided to create a tome simply because he has the facilities to do so. The actual sections of the book that are based fully on music's position in society could be a fascinating book if they were better written, and better researched. His bio would be better if he delved in as well. Here is the result of when someone can't settle on what to write - but is too famous for anyone to edit properly.
That being said, Byrne is obviously interesting and has explored music in a dynamic way- which is honorable in it's own right. However, this felt more like an exercise in futility as some dude at a bar tells you the 'history of music' but constantly then starts talking about his band, and you're like, 'Um, I know' and he just talks over you and you're mentally looking at your watch. Which is what I did for awhile while reading this, until I realized i could just close the book and leave this monologue. Reading Anne Boyer essays now. Now THERE's some meat on the bone.
I really tried.
I read more than half of this pseudo-intellectual, wandering, extemporaneous half-bio, half musings on music, giving it such a chance no doubt simply because David Byrne wrote it. Because I like a handful of his songs, and he seems cool, and honestly - trying to read this seriously was the most hipster thing I've done in forever.
Basically, Byrne has given the world two books - the bio of his time in music and the development of the Talking Heads, and a basic Music History 101 book, cobbled together with dinner conversation trivia pilfered through years of sitting with artistic intellectuals.
The pain of this book is that the actual premise he sets up - discussing Music through it's development, it's selling and it's effect on people - as well as the more dynamic sections on it's creation - are a great idea. The problem is, he's just not an expert on it. He thinks he is, and I was hoping he'd be. But I kept on going through the book and saying, 'Yeah - duh. I know. Yup. Duh. Who doesn't know that?' He glosses over really meaty subjects as a pseudo-expert, but then switches gears to talk about his career when it's clear he's exhausted his focus on the subject.
It's a pain to read, what is essentially two different books, shuffled together, into one entirely unappetizing monologue by a dude that has decided to create a tome simply because he has the facilities to do so. The actual sections of the book that are based fully on music's position in society could be a fascinating book if they were better written, and better researched. His bio would be better if he delved in as well. Here is the result of when someone can't settle on what to write - but is too famous for anyone to edit properly.
That being said, Byrne is obviously interesting and has explored music in a dynamic way- which is honorable in it's own right. However, this felt more like an exercise in futility as some dude at a bar tells you the 'history of music' but constantly then starts talking about his band, and you're like, 'Um, I know' and he just talks over you and you're mentally looking at your watch. Which is what I did for awhile while reading this, until I realized i could just close the book and leave this monologue. Reading Anne Boyer essays now. Now THERE's some meat on the bone.
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