by Ross Sharp

From “Lucking Out”, his memoir of 1970’s New York, James Wolcott describes seeing Talking Heads at CBGB’s …

“Seeing them for the first time is transfixing: [Chris] Frantz is so far back on the drums that it sounds as if he’s playing in the next room; [Tina] Weymouth, who could pass for Suzi Quatro’s sorority sister, stands rooted to the floor, her head doing an oscillating-fan swivel; the object of her swivel is David Byrne, who has a little-boy-lost-at-the-zoo voice and the demeanor of someone who’s spent the last half hour whirling around in the spin drier. When his eyes start ping-ponging in his head, he looks like a cartoon of a chipmunk from Mars.”

I read that eating lunch in the pub and almost choked to death on a mouthful of peas from laughing.