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David Byrne is sitting at a table.
As he sings, he carefully indicates each part.
Around him, framing the otherwise empty stage, is a rectangle of lighting truss.
Its rain in reverse.
And so what does all that elimination get us?
But the tall man himself is pretty standard-issue in the physical-grace department.
Or merely a description?
Everyone is completely mobile; everyone is barefoot; everyone is in those gray suits.
Several times the company freezes or goes silent.
They clearly preoccupy him.
Is a house a home?
Is this, in fact, your beautiful house?
(These tend to make people lose their minds.)
Its a show with many highlightsthis one blazes like phosphorus.
Freddie Gray!Say his name!
This is an everyday voice, almost a speaking voice, and yet it makes such beautiful music.
What gives the movements complexity is their arrangement.
The American part ofAmerican Utopiastarts long before the music does.
As you walk in, staff members offer to help you to register to vote.
The Utopia part is harder to figure out.
Whatever they are, Byrnes emphasis is on all of our swift ephemerality.
There was a room there!
And then everything is gone, so quickly.
