Speaking in Tongues & Stop Making Sense — Trans Cis Media
I was aware I was trans from a pretty young age, but anxiety and my family situation led me to believe it was something I would be able to “turn off” — and at some point made an active decision to suppress who I was. It lasted about 5 years until psychedelics and lockdown well and truly re-cracked my egg, ending an incredibly depressed period of my life and starting a new journey.
I have always had an odd taste in media, and looking back on some of it now has made me realise I connected to a lot of it because it allowed me to explore those repressed feelings in an abstract way. Art is in some way an exchange between the audience and artist, and the audience will always bring parts of themselves to it. The art I loved the most allowed me to bring those parts of myself to the surface, exploring the feelings through the hazmat suit of metaphor.
There is a huge and dire need for more representation of trans art — made by trans people about themselves, and their experiences. And exploring that has been one of the most relieving parts of being out to myself — I remember in my first year of University going to see Sebastián Lelio’s “A Fantastic Woman” (though written by cis people, the humanity of the film comes from the deeply touching performance of Danielle Vega — who became the first trans person to present at the oscars) and being terrified of putting myself in the cinema. I was stuck in there for two hours — what if the feelings came out? What if I couldn’t put them back? I can’t overstate the importance of trans art — before making the active choice to suppress, the sheer catharsis of Against Me!’s Transgender Dysphoria Blues was something I hadn’t really experienced before. I connected with it in a way I hadn’t with much else at the time, and now listening to SOPHIE’s Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides is a similar beautiful experience — though different in so many ways.
I wanted to acknowledge that before making to examine cis media, much of which is over represented in comparison to trans media. I want to explore what allows cis media to connect with trans audiences, and how it can help build us up — even if we’re not aware consciously at the time.
David Byrne, frontman of Talking Heads, has spoken at length about his experiences as an autistic person. A lot of those experiences are clearly and unashamedly present in his work, often combining vulnerability and pride. It isn’t that alone that shapes the way music can connect to trans people, but it’s important to note that even while enjoying many privileges Byrne had experience in being isolated and shamed for part of who he was.
Speaking in Tongues is a 1983 album, and my favourite of Talking Head’s pretty phenomenal discography. The general consensus tends to prefer 1980’s Remain in Light, more thematically interested in war and US imperialism — though many of the themes discussed are still present. Speaking in Tongues is more personal in a way — the lyrics were written to fit the music allowing an honest, raw, abstract stream of consciousness to flow through. Also of note is the incredible 1984 concert film Stop Making Sense — filmed from the Speaking in Tongues tour. Songs from Remain in Light are less present, primarily due to the insane music complexity of the tracks. In 2020’s American Utopia, Byrne illustrates this by showing the steps in building up the sound of Born Under Punches (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aYYp1y3gy4) — though this clip fails to capture the musical brilliance of it, so try and watch the concert film of that show if you can!
The album’s energetic opener Burning Down the House is simply that — someone burning their house. Motive is left unclear, but evident is the joy they are taking in the act of self-destruction. They haven’t become malicious warning that “You might need a raincoat” and insisting they “don’t wanna hurt nobody”. For some reason, all they have left to do is take joy in burning their house down. The aim in this exploration isn’t to claim authorial intent, but now listening to it I find myself relating to the strange joy in destroying an old life that no longer serves you. Sure, it’s a perfectly good house and it may be fine for someone else — but not for me! Coming to mind is The Mountain Goats Going Invisible 2 — I remember a fan describing it as a trans anthem, and it does come with a fiery sense of catharsis, and AJJ’s Bad Bad Things — which opts not for catharsis, but acknowledges the pain and self loathing behind horrible malicious acts without hiding the cruelty of it “And so I looked into your eyes / And I saw the reflection / Of a coward that you and I both hate very much” .
“Everybody, get in line!” is the opening line of Making Flippy Floppy. The songs’ uneasy anxiety of conforming to a world that doesn’t really make sense will be familiar to trans listeners. It captures the depressing and anxious reality of conforming “Nothing strikes your fancy / Nothing turns you on / Somebody is waiting in the Hallway / Someone is falling down the stairs”. The neverending ache sacrificing your happiness “Snap into position!/ Bounce till you ache!”, and the confusion of feeling something is deeply wrong with you that you cannot explain- “Bring me a doctor!/ I have a hole in my head!”.
But the song is joyful — it insists “You don’t have to wait for more instructions!” and that”They are just people / and I’m not afraid!”. It reminds us there is nothing wrong with being the way we are — “We are born without eyesight / We are born without sin”. Another way of reading it would be conforming to a capitalist neoliberal system, written in the first few years of the Reagan premiership “The presidents crazy / Did you hear what he said?”. Part of what makes the world alienating for trans people isn’t the nature of being trans, but the ingrained notion all we should aim for is to be productive and set aside personal needs for recognition as who we are. The song resonantes not just because it describes a relatable perspective, but because it offers freedom and liberation in the joy of music. Stop Making Sense is a non-stop onslaught of joy, filled with moments where the performers on stage interact with one another. As random words appear on the screen behind them, the focus is not on deriving a meaning but the sheer fun of it all! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa98AhEVAZQ)
Girlfriend is Better continues with the ideas of a confusing reality, opening with the unanswered questions “Who took the money?/ Who took the money away?”. The narrator responds to their uncertainty by grounding themselves with their partner — “I got a girlfriend who’s better than that!”, even as the confusion starts to creep in. “I got a girlfriend with bows in her hair / and nothing is better than that! (is it?)”. The song ends as Byrne advises us to “Stop Making Sense”, and the version performed in the film repeats this lyrics The experience of being trans can be overwhelming, and it’s a common experience to ground yourself to anything you can — a partner which can feel perfect in every way, but the creeping doubt can set in. Because something is better than that — living an honest and authentic life. It’s the experience of looking at a life that you should be happy with, but knowing something’s not right. But the song doesn’t shame the narrator for trying to force some stability — the “(is it?)” isn’t a harsh abrasion of the fun vibes, but part of it. It’s a friendly invitation — after repeating “Stop Making Sense”, Byrne offers the microphone to the camera for a brief second.
Slippery People continues these ideas, but a few lyrics if I Get Wild / Wild Gravity really stand out in particular. The rationalisation process is acknowledged, and an alternative is offered “Fooled around enough with numbers / Let’s not be ourselves today”. There is a change where “No one here can recognize you / Here is everything that you like/ Feelings without explanations / Some things are hard to describe”. Heeding the advice to Stop Making Sense, they let go of the need to rationalise and step into something new and unrecognisable — focused on them and their feelings.
The narrator in Moon Rocks zooms through the Universe with freedom, unbound by conceptions of who they are. “Get your hands out of your pocket / Get your face adjusted / I heard that somebody lied / And I’m staring out the window, gonna let this thing continue / in it’s natural time.” They are free to change and explore at their own peace. They end up eating something that may seem unusual — in this case a rock from the moon. It invigorates them “Gonna rock it ’til I shock it / Gonna kick it ’til I drop it / Woo! Love at first sight!” People might find them strange, but they’re free and confident in themselves “You might think I’m wasting time / You might laugh but not for long! / Hey! I’m working it out!”. Again, I don’t think rocks from the moon are HRT. But it’s also not just psychedelic drugs — Byrne is well known as a pretty sober guy. The strange and abstract language denies a single answer, but as a trans fan I also can’t help but feel a connection with the ideas — the rush of freedom, new opportunities, and the relentless optimism of it.
The album’s closer is unlike any other song on it — beautiful, tender and sweet. This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody). I don’t think there’s any need to pick apart the lyrics, the feeling is clear. It’s a love song, unbound by any specific form of it. It’s not about a beautiful girlfriend with smoke in her eyes and bows in her hair, it’s about someone who feels like home. The abstraction is still present, but the experience, the heart shines through. It’s one of the best songs ever written, and the context of the rest of the album only enhances it. Having grappled with a confusing world, with self doubt, the album looks to space and shedding the old and finds genuine, beautiful connection. Unlike the rest of Stop Making Sense, energetic and bouncy, Byrne and the band just stand by a lamp and sing about really, really loving and connecting with someone.
Is the album explicitly trans? Does every single lyric make it clear the focus is on transgressing gender norms? Of course not. But it contains themes, ideas, lyrics that can be read by a trans listener as an acknowledgement of pain, an invitation to step outside of it — to “Stop Making Sense” — and almost a reassurance that despite that, they are still human and that love and happiness are possibilities. This Must Be The Place is still tinged with the pain and awkwardness, but it doesn’t prevent the human heart from shining through.
I think what we can take from this is the beautiful idea that being trans is not separate the human experience. It is one form of it, and though trans people face many unique struggles — the experience of struggle is not a solitary one. Recognising what we share and can relate to separately encourages us to empathise with one another, to be open to different perspectives and recognise that we have so much in common. The fact non-trans narratives have the capability to resonate with the trans experience is a reassurance of a common human experience, and crafted out of the fabric of common pain is an invitation to dance, to share joy — together as equals.
Speaking in Tongues and Stop Making Sense are important to me as a trans person. They remind me of the common human experience we all belong to, and remind us to take joy in it. We don’t have to burn ourselves out trying to conform, we should be free and live our lives. And when we do, we open ourselves to beautiful, human and tender connections.
