David Byrne and Amanda Palmer. Photos by Veronica Hoglund

This past Wednesday night Amanda Palmer, former vocalist for the Dredson Dolls, played a sold out show at the Williamsburg Hall of Music. Backed by bandmates The Grand Theft Orchestra, the night’s performance was packed with surprises, including an unexpected appearance by legendary David Byrne of the Talking Heads. AP pleased the packed room with songs off of her earlier records, including tracks from her days as a Dredson Doll — while also singing those off of her latest album Theatre Is Evil. The night made an epic finish with an encore of “Burning Down the House,” which Byrne was so kind to have returned to the stage for.

David Byrne mythifies Marcos in ‘Here Lies Love’

By Ben Kessler

The ambivalence provoked by women who wield power is reflected in the current photo-manipulation meme “Texts From Hillary,” in which a half-scowling secretary of state, peering dismissively down at her BlackBerry through sunglasses, fires scathing bits of digital wit at supplicants including Joe Biden, Mark Zuckerberg and President Obama himself. The catchiness of the meme is largely due to the fun of imagining Madame Secretary as an amalgam of bitch, badass and Internet joker; Hillary Clinton becomes the Nerf cudgel we use to vent our frustration at the ridiculousness of celebrity culture.

Here Lies Love, David Byrne and Fatboy Slim’s 2010 concept album/pop musical about Imelda Marcos, the infamous former first lady of the Philippines, could have been titled “Texts From Imelda.” The music evokes the ’70s disco Marcos is said to have loved, while the lyrics were largely drawn from and inspired by statements she made in interviews. In high postmodern style, avant-pop superstar Byrne uses these elements as texts in an attempt to explicate the Marcos myth.

To interpret the texts, co-producers Byrne and Fatboy Slim (aka Norman Cook) call upon more than 20 vocalists, all but two of whom are women, to perform story-songs recounting Marcos’ struggles, from childhood through her exile from the Philippines after a popular uprising.

Byrne’s stated goal was to blur the line between dance music and show tunes, a savvy and compassionate strategy given the subject matter. “Don’t You Agree?” (sung by Roisin Murphy), for example, reveals Marcos’ character like a Broadway diva’s aria but employs down-to-earth lounge-disco funkiness to nudge us a step or two down a slippery slope: “Sometimes you need a strong man/With things out of control/Don’t you agree?”

Here Lies Love’s pomo play with disco may seem mighty abstract to some, especially considering the grave crimes Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos were accused of, but it’s actually the source of much of the work’s substance and contemporary relevance. Byrne aligns Marcos’ fate with that of disco, the most maligned of pop music genres, cautioning us against stingy-hearted, racist reactions that have impeded understanding of both in recent history. Here Lies Love audaciously attempts to prompt an empathetic reinvestigation of history, as in the song “Why Don’t You Love Me?”: “Just look at Nixon/They tore him apart/How could you be so hard?”

To read the full article at CityArts click here.