Talking Heads, "Fear of Music" (Sire, 1979)

Folks who grew up on the sounds of the '60s sometimes had a bit of trouble warming up to the music of the following decade.

In the '70s, many people seemed to be more interested in hearing something they could dance to, without any regard for the relative merit of the songs. The result, to the chagrin of many, was the proliferation of disco.

On the other side of the musical spectrum was the "new wave," as it came to be known, featuring peformers who looked and sounded absolutely nothing like the shaggy-maned types who had come to personify rock music.

During the latter part of the '70s, David Byrne was a prime example of a rock star who looked nothing like a rock star: With his closely cropped hair, he could've passed for one of those guys who sat around formatting computer punchcards all day.

His band also took a much different approach from the blues-boogie-bombast that had electrified everyone in the '60s. Talking Heads featured a very spare instrumental sound, with the focal point being Byrne's quirky vocal delivery of his even quirkier lyrics.

The group's first two albums, "Talking Heads '77" and "More Songs About Buildings and Food," followed that general template. Along the way, the band started to gain a bit more recognition than many of its "new wave" brethren, with a minor hit from the first album, "Psycho Killer," followed by a Top 30 placing from the second, a cover of soul crooner Al Green's "Take Me to the River."

Talking Heads meanwhile had crossed paths with the similarly idiosyncratic Brian Eno, the ambient music pioneer who had forsaken a spot as Roxy Music's keyboard player for more esoteric pursuits. Fresh off a collaboration with David Bowie that now is regarded as the some of the latter's most adventurous material, Eno crossed the Atlantic to work with Byrne and his New York-based group.

The partnership reached its zenith, by most accounts, with the 1980 album "Remain In Light," which combines Talking Heads' original vision with Eno's electronic textures and the band's explorations of World Music, a venture many others were quick to follow.

Before "Remain In Light" came the album that laid the groundwork.

For some fans, "Fear of Music" is every bit the classic as its more celebrated successor, combining Byrne's skillfully crafted songs with all kinds of bold sonic maneuvering, adding up to a thoroughly engaging listening experience throughout.

The '60s music acolytes may have been put off by the tracks on the album that received airplay, especially "Life During Wartime," which made the lower reaches of the charts. The tune moves along to disco-like beat; then again, as the chorus mentions, "this ain't no disco." You may have been able to dance to the song, but lyrically, it was far removed from "We Are Familly": Byrne paints an extremely bleak picture about survival when the insurgency hits ... where? How about, as he mentions in the song, "Pittsburgh, PA."

Two other tracks showed up as British singles:

* "I Zimbra" is the band's full-throttle dive into World Music, with the band taking a polyrhythmic approach that had rarely been heard in rock music previously. Chris Frantz's drums drive the song, aided by Gene Wilder (hey, that's what the album credits say) on congas. And if the instrumental undercurrent sounds a lot like the sound King Crimson developed in the '80s, that's because Crimson guitarist Robert Fripp plays on the track.

* "Cities" is another danceable track, featuring Byrne's rather warped travelogue: "Did I forget to mention, forget to mention Memphis/Home of Elvis and the ancient Greeks." The abrupt shift to a minor key makes the song's chorus one to remember.

The other songs on "Fear of Music" explore several different textures, from the lighter "Mind" and "Heaven" to the heavier "Memories Can't Wait" and electric guitar to the ethereal "Air," with guest Julie Last's backing vocals setting the mood for a cautionary tale about our atmosphere: "What is happening to my skin? Where's the protection that I needed?"

The album reaches a stunning conclusion with "Drugs," a dark, lurching number carried by Eno's suitably spooky keyboards. This cautionary tale should have been adopted by anti-drug zealots, as it paints a harrowing picture of substance abuse: "And all I see is little dots/Some are smeared and some are spots/Feels like murder but that's all right/Somebody said there's too much light/Pull down the shade and it's all right/It'll be over in a minute or two."

Just say no ...

"Fear of Music" nearly hit the Top 20, a plateau Talking Heads would cross on their final five studio albums before parting ways after 1988's "Naked." Byrne's three bandmates - Frantz, bassist Tina Weymouth and multi-instrumentalist Jerry Harrison - reunited in 1996 under the name Heads, but fans still are waiting for a full-fledged reunion of one of the most important bands of the 1970s and '80s.

And that includes some people who usually swear by '60s music.