Stop Making Sense

Stop Making Sense ★★★★½

And you may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?"
And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?!"

A man comes out on stage. The theater looks plain, unadorned, unremarkable. He places a boombox down. He's holding an acoustic guitar. The man begins playing a song, one you've probably heard many times before. It's simple, unassuming.

In the next song, a woman comes on stage to accompany him.

Before you realize it, there's suddenly a full band and then some on stage, the lighting is different, and you are suddenly experiencing a grand, wild concert, full of singers, a vast array of instruments, and eccentric flailing body movements.

You are at a Talking Heads concert. This is David Byrne. He is so weird. His suit is entirely too large for his body. He does the funniest things with his arms and legs. He is so weird.

You love him for this.

The songs are wonderful and catchy. The energy is eclectic and infectious. Everyone is grooving and having a blast.

David Byrne is just so weird.

God bless David Byrne.

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