Vitals
David Byrne, eccentric Talking Heads frontman
Los Angeles, December 1983
Film: Stop Making Sense
Release Date: October 19, 1984
Director: Jonathan Demme
Costume Designer: Gail Blacker
Background
Widely regarded as one of the best concert films ever made, Stop Making Sense was released 40 years ago today on October 19, 1984. Independently produced by Gary Goetzman and directed by Jonathan Demme, Stop Making Sense captures Talking Heads performing over four nights in December 1983 at the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles, during their tour promoting the album Speaking in Tongues.
As the lead singer and chief songwriter, frontman David Byrne defined much of the band’s quirky personality, energetically dancing across the stage and rotating between his Martin D-35 acoustic guitar, sunburst ’63 Fender Stratocaster, and dual-humbucker Roland guitars.
In a 2020 Newsweek interview with Samuel Spencer, Byrne shared that he maintained a cohesive visual effect by “[asking] everyone to wear medium grey outfits, whatever style they preferred (a questionable decision there), but always in medium grey. It worked—this consistency meant the effects of the various lighting cues and gags were more seamless.” However, drummer Chris Frantz had to break from this neutral formula after his laundry wasn’t returned following the first night’s performance, opting for a turquoise-blue polo shirt each night to maintain continuity.
Still, it’s not Frantz’s splash of color that steals the sartorial spotlight in Stop Making Sense. After Tina Weymouth and Frantz perform “Genius of Love” from their side project Tom Tom Club, Byrne rejoins his band on stage ahead of “Girlfriend is Better”, now dressed in an absurdly oversized business suit.
What’d He Wear?
David Byrne’s instantly iconic “big suit” in Stop Making Sense has become as much a part of the film’s legacy as the music itself. The light stone-gray suit follows the same neutral palette as the rest of Byrne’s stage wardrobe, though its exaggerated proportions make it stand out—literally.
The concept for the suit stemmed from a suggestion by a fashion designer friend who advised Byrne that “everything is bigger on stage,” leading Byrne to apply the principle not just to his movements but to his wardrobe. As Byrne explained, the goal was to make his head appear smaller, “because music is very physical and often the body understands it before the head.” In reference to the band’s name, this effectively converted Byrne himself into a “talking head” as his body was dwarfed by the oversized suit.
In her contemporary review for The New Yorker, Pauline Kael noted how the suit’s boxy shape evoked the costumes of Noh plays and contributed to Byrne’s “handsome, freaky golem” appearance, with the suit seeming to move him rather than the other way around. “The suit magnified Byrne’s famously gawky dance moves,” observes Pete Anderson for Put This On. “As he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his enhanced hips at center stage, the suit’s fabric undulates and sways with him.”
Though Byrne has since joked about how closely he’s become identified with the suit—remarking to writer Ian Gittins, “That will be the inscription on my tombstone… ‘why the big suit?'”—its enduring legacy continues to fascinate and amuse audiences, cementing its place in music and fashion history.
Inspired by the hyperbolic costumes of Japanese Noh theater, Byrne collaborated with designer Gail Blacker to craft what she described to the New York Times in 1984 as “more of an architectural project than a clothing project,” lining the suit with needlepoint canvas and constructing an internal framework of webbed shoulder pads and a girdle to maintain its stiff, angular shape while barely touching Byrne’s body.
The suit jacket follows a boxy and squared silhouette, framed by the wide and well-padded shoulders that present like a football uniform. The overly long sleeves have four buttons on each cuff, which dwarf Byrne’s wrists and hands.
The lapels are fashionably narrow for the ’80s but with wide notches, rolling to a three-button front that begins at mid-chest. Byrne wears all three buttons fastened throughout “Girlfriend is Better” but begins unbuttoning it during the opening notes of “Take Me to the River”, eventually fully removing the jacket mid way through the song. The jacket also has a single vent, welted breast pocket, and patch hip pockets styled with rounded corners around the bottoms that collide with the straight hem.
The appropriately full-fitting trousers have on-seam side pockets and a coin pocket on the right side accessed through a set-in slit, and there are no back pockets. The trousers are styled with a flat front and plain-hemmed bottoms. Through the waistband belt loops, Byrne wears a low-contrasting light stone-gray edge-stitched leather belt with a silver-toned squared single-prong buckle that clearly does very little to actually keep the trousers up, as they were constructed with an internal girdle to fit aorund Byrne’s lean frame.
Byrne’s ice-white short-sleeved sport shirt echoes the oversized fit of his suit, full through his midsection and tucked into his trousers. He maintains the same “air tie” effect as with his other stage attire by fully buttoning the plain front up to his neck, where the spread collar is presumably actually a sporty “loop collar” with a loop extending from the top of the left side connecting to a button under the right collar leaf. The shirt also has elbow-length sleeves, a box-pleated back, and a breast pocket.
At one point after removing his jacket, Byrne pulls on the red baseball cap that someone had thrown onto the stage during a previous performance. The hat is structured with a low, flat crown and wide bill, similar to military-issued utility caps.
Byrne counters the oversized proportions of his suit by wearing conventional oxford shoes, albeit in a less conventional color with their mid-gray leather uppers. His socks are a darker gray cloth.
Byrne returns to the stage for the finale, “Crosseyed and Painless”, dressed in dark gray trousers with a more conventional fit (at least for the ’80s), though he appears to continue wearing the same gray plain-toe oxfords and baggy ice-blue six-button sport shirt—the latter now with the top few buttons undone and the inside scaffolding removed.
How to Get the Look
He’s got a suit that’s bigger than that.
- Light stone-gray oversized suit:
- Single-breasted 3-button square-framed jacket with narrow wide-notched lapels, wide and padded shoulders, welted breast pocket, patch hip pockets, 4-button cuffs, and single vent
- Flat-front trousers with belt loops, on-seam side pockets, set-in right-side coin pocket, and plain-hemmed bottoms
- Ice-white short-sleeved sport shirt with loop collar, plain front, breast pocket, and box-pleated back
- Light stone-gray edge-stitched leather belt with silver-toned squared single-prong buckle
- Gray leather plain-toe oxford shoes
- Dark-gray socks
Do Yourself a Favor and…
Check out the movie and album.
Sources
- Collider — “The Big Story Behind David Byrne’s Big Suit in ‘Stop Making Sense’” by Daniel Cruse
- Entertainment Weekly — “EW Q&A: David Byrne” by Josh Stillman
- Newsweek — “‘David Byrne’s American Utopia’: A Brief History of David Byrne’s Suits” by Samuel Spencer
- The New Yorker — “David Byrne’s Gray Suits, from “Stop Making Sense” to “American Utopia”” by Rachel Syme
- Put This On — “Making Sense Of David Byrne’s Big Suit” by Pete Anderson
The Quote
Stop making sense!
The post Stop Making Sense: David Byrne’s Big Suit appeared first on BAMF Style.