Talking Heads at SUNY Binghamton, November 10, 1978

On this date, 48 years ago, I saw Talking Heads (twice!) at SUNY Binghamton, with a memorable opening act.

My saved stubs. I asked them not to rip the ticket. No luck for the second show.

I’d been a fan right from the start. Back in 1977, when I bought an album on Sire Records (probably the Ramones’ debut) I got one of the greatest “freebies” of all time: a double 45 rpm EP sampler with the cheesy title “NEW WAVE rock'n'roll: Get Behind It Before It Gets Past You”. Four bands, eight songs: The Dead Boys (All This and More; Sonic Reducer), The Saints (I’m Stranded, Erotic Neurotic), Richard Hell & the Voidoids (Blank Generation, Betrayal Takes Two), and …Talking Heads. An absurdly amazing lineup in retrospect. Three of those bands contributed to the EP what would become signature songs. The Talking Heads disc, inexplicably, did not include their iconic “Psycho Killer.” Someone at Sire needs to be retroactively fired. (Their pair was Uh-Oh Love Comes to Town and Don’t Worry About the Government. Not too shabby.)

I still have this record.

Needless to say, I was hooked. I immediately bought Talking Heads’ first album, plus the single “Love Goes to Building on Fire,” from Bleecker Bob’s, and by the time More Songs About Buildings and Food came out in 1978, I was a total HeadsHead. To this day, that second album is still my favorite of theirs.

So when they came to Binghamton, I did the only reasonable thing: I went to both shows.

They played two sets, 8:00 pm and 10:30 pm. Tickets were $5.50, or $4.00 with a student ID. (Try not to cry.) The early show had blue tickets, the late show, red tickets. And in a bit of accidental (or not?) symmetry, David Byrne wore a blue t-shirt for the early set and the exact same shirt in red for the late one.

Same setlist for both shows: nine songs, plus a three-song encore. They were touring in support of the new album, and the setlist reflected that: seven of the first nine were from the new album. The encore kicked off with their big hit, “Take Me to the River.” Despite a few people yelling "Psycho Killer", they ended the show with No Compassion.

The shows were terrific. The band was tight as can be.  I remember them rocking out at the end of Found a Job, everyone bopping up and down.  It was truly excellent. 

After a little sleuthing, I found these photos from the actual Binghamton concert. I suspect the top one is from the late show (Byrne's shirt is lighter, presumably red.)

In this one, his shirt is darker, presumably blue, so I'm guessing this is from the early show.

Not long after, my friend Chaz somehow got his hands on a rare radio promo LP of a December ’78 show from the Agora in Cleveland, recorded just five weeks after we had seen them. 

The promo album Chaz had. It never had an official release.

The setlist was slightly different from the one in Binghamton: they played “Electricity” from the not-yet-released Fear of Music, and they had dumped No Compassion for Psycho Killer. The best moment on the album, though, comes ten seconds into “Take Me to the River,” when some guy in the crowd yells, his voice loud and clear: “THAT’S THE ONLY FUCKING SONG THEY PLAY ON THE RADIO, GOD DAMN IT!!” You’d think that might get edited out for a radio promo, but it wasn't. That promo album was never given an official release, until last year, when, as part of a Record Store Day promotion, it was released, newly remastered with an additional track (Thank You for Sending Me an Angel, my favorite track on their second album.) 

The remastered version of the concert.

And sure enough, if you listen to the remaster, ten seconds into Take Me to the River, you can hear the remastered yell from that guy. It might actually be a little clearer :)

Give a listen. Around 8 seconds in, you hear the famous yell. (Turn it up, for more amusing effect.)

But what I remember most vividly from those Binghamton shows wasn’t even Talking Heads. It was the opening act: Richard Belzer. And his complete and total annihilation.

"The Belz"

Here’s an excerpt from Chris Frantz’s memoir, Remain in Love, recalling that night: “When we played upstate at the student bar at Binghamton University, our opening act was a hip new comedian named Richard Belzer. They called him ‘The Belz’. We thought he would be a good choice because he was funny and smart and a real New Yorker.  Our mistake. As funny and hip as Belzer was, the kids just wanted to rock. They pelted him with ice cubes and booed him off the stage. Tina and I saw what was happening and brought him backstage to our dressing room.  He was clearly shaken and very upset.  I offered him a chair and a joint, which he accepted and we sat with him while he smoked it and calmed down. I wouldn’t blame him if he never opened for another rock band again, and I doubt that he ever did.”  

Fabulous book.

I witnessed the entire thing and I, too, thought it was strange that Belzer got such a poor reception.  First of all, this wasn’t exactly a Black Sabbath or AC/DC crowd. We were supposed to be thoughtful, artsy, proto–new wave kids, very aware that this was a band that hates people when they’re not polite. We definitely were not polite.

Secondly, Belzer was actually pretty funny. He told some funny jokes and stories. Then he did a Mick Jagger impression (“a rooster on acid”) and absolutely nailed it. Silence. Then came the heckling. Belzer tried to engage the heckler. The heckler doubled down. Belzer actually stepped into the audience to confront the guy (two rows behind me, by the way), asking for a little cooperation. No luck.

Belzer returned to the stage, and then… someone threw a penny. I saw it fly through the air, as if in slow motion, and hit him squarely under his right eye, and then bounce on the stage floor with a clang. Belzer froze, hand to his face, stunned and furious, and just turned around and walked off.

Lights down.

A few minutes later, Talking Heads came on, as if nothing had happened.

Despite Belzer’s disaster, it was a great night. A great band, in prime form, two shows, eight bucks. (It wouldn't be the last time I'd see them, as you'll hear about in a future post.)

Two years later, Remain in Light came out, and it became the soundtrack to my final, slightly unsettled months at Binghamton. My application to Cornell veterinary school had just been rejected, and I was saying goodbye to close friends, heading to another planet (Gainesville, Florida) for a Master’s program that might, hopefully, improve my odds of getting into veterinary school. The start of a long journey… though at the time, it felt more like a detour.