“Living Turned Inside Out”: the Musical Expression of Psychotic and Schizoid Experience in Talking Heads’ Remain in Light

Home , Houses in Motion, In Light, Remain In Light, Stop Making Sense, Talking Heads

The American Journal of Psychoanalysis, Vol. 62, No. 2, June 2002 ( 2002)

“LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT”: THE MUSICAL EXPRESSION OF PSYCHOTIC AND SCHIZOID EXPERIENCE IN TALKING HEADS’ REMAIN IN LIGHT

Michael A. Brog

The rock album form, advantageously suited for the artistic expression of intrapsychic experience, has been virtually ignored by analytic writers. Remain in Light by Talking Heads is presented as an example of an album that effectively utilizes the potentialities of this form to give powerful and disconcerting musical expression to a variety of psychotic and schizoid experiences, bringing to life the formulations for these phenomena of Bion, Winnicott, Gun- trip, Ogden, Grotstein and others. The album suggests a variety of mechanisms by which sound and music may serve both defensive and compensatory functions in relation to these phenomena.

KEY WORDS: psychoanalysis; music; schizoid; psychosis; Bion.

Psychoanalysts have often turned away from the data of their consulting rooms to make a variety of creative works, from drama to literature and art, the subject of their inquiry. These efforts have often met with intriguing results that have been used to exemplify various psychoanalytic theories, while also enriching our understanding of the creative work being analyzed. Relatively underrepresented as the focus of these efforts has been the world of music, and, in particular, the genre of modern rock music has remained largely uninvestigated. The reasons for this absence of serious psychoanalytic inquiry into the world of rock music are varied. The works in this genre are largely created by young adults for consumption by young adults and adolescents, thereby lessening their appeal to most analysts. Firmly in the arena of popular cul- ture, rock music has suffered from a commercialism that has often dimin- ished the quality of its most readily available product, which is frequently found to have little redeeming value even by the form’s own critics. Often these works are overly loud, distastefully direct in their expression of ag- gression and sexuality, simplistic in their romantic sentiment, and uninter-

Michael A. Brog, M.D., is on Faculty, St. Louis Psychoanalytic Institute; Assistant Clinical Professor of Psychiatry, St. Louis University School of Medicine. Address correspondence to Michael Brog, M.D., 225 South Meramec, Suite 932T, St. Louis, MO 63105. 163 0002-9548/02/0600-0163/1  2002 Association for the Advancement of Psychoanalysis 164 BROG esting in their musical composition. Consequently, psychoanalysts have not paid much attention. Despite these limitations, there are compelling reasons to analyze rock music. As a form for the expression of inner human experience, it has many advantageous features. Equally important, there have been many gifted cre- ators who have fully utilized these features to give voice to their complex creative expressions. The richness and vividness of these works creates an evocative and affectively charged listening experience, one that invites applied psychoanalytic investigation. In this paper, Remain in Light by Talking Heads will be presented as an example of an album that effectively utilizes the potentialities of the rock album form to give powerful and disconcerting musical expression to a variety of psychotic and schizoid experiences, bringing to life the formulations for these phenomena of Bion, Winnicott, Ogden, Guntrip, Grotstein, and others. The album will be shown to suggest a variety of mechanisms by which sound and music may serve both defensive and compensatory functions in relation to these phenomena.

ROCK ALBUM AS VEHICLE FOR REPRESENTING INTRAPSYCHIC EXPERIENCE

The rock album format can be seen to possess, in multiple regards, advantageous potential for expressing the depth, intensity and complexity of intrapsychic experience. Music has been well recognized as having the power to instill rich, preverbal feeling states in the listener, as several psychoanalytic writers on music have emphasized (Kohut, 1957/1989; Nass, 1975/1989a; Noy, 1968/1989, 1993; Reik, 1953). As Reik (1953) has observed, “music can convey the infinite variety of primitive and subtle emotions” (p. 9), “music is the universal language of human emotion, the expression of the inexpressible” (p. 8). Kohut noted that music’s capacity to tap into powerful archaic emotional experiences derives from its facilitating “subtle regression via extra verbal modes of psychic function” (p. 38). These affects may be shared in a way that invites the listener to feel with the artist, or they may be more forcibly thrust upon the listener, communications which in some contexts can be considered to function as a projective identification (John Lennon’s “Revolution 9” for example; Brog, 1995). Music can express a wide range of emotions and employ qualitatively different modalities with which to communicate them. Additionally, music in its composition and arrangement can take the form of a variety of intrapsychic and external experiences. For example, a peaceful melody may repeatedly intrude into and cover over an underlying disturbing rhythm, thereby conveying defensive suppression. A pleasing melody can fail to fully develop through being dampened down and inter- rupted by other musical elements, suggesting an experience of inhibition. “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 165

Kohut suggested that musical tune and rhythm might often represent inter- acting secondary and primary processes (1957/1989, p. 27). As for external actions, even the subtleties inherent in the flight of a fly can be communi- cated musically (Treitler, 1993). An endless variety of expressions relating drive, defense, affect, and action can be embodied in the composition and arrangement of a song. Along with these well-recognized properties of music, the addition of lyrics and an album format adds further communicative potentialities. Rock music can be seen to be in an advantageous position, compared to both nonlyricized music and nonmelodicized writing, in its potential for expressing ideation connected to emotion. This occurs through a double enhance- ment of the lyrical line, first by the manner in which it is sung, and second through the instrumentation, musical line, and musical interludes with which it is connected. Even the most ordinary of statements takes on force- ful presence when resonating with musically conveyed feelings. Music, as powerful conveyor of emotion, serves to amplify, clarify, or even contradict the emotional elements suggested in the accompanying lyrical narrative. Artists attuned to the creative possibilities inherent in the intertwining of words and music can use this form as a vehicle for producing expressions of inner experience, the depths and complexity of which can transcend what the music or words could individually convey. We can appreciate the artistic challenge encompassed in this intertwining, as it requires the artist’s simultaneous utilization of verbal and preverbal modes of communication. It is also important to consider the associative possibilities that naturally derive from the nature of the rock album’s essential composition, that it is a collection of approximately twelve separate elements or songs. This arrangement may imply an inchoate storyline as in the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Other potential associative elements that constitute important parts of the album include its title, the cover (which contains a piece of art in the form of a photograph or illustration), and even the contents of the package, which often include a written copy of lyrics along with additional artwork. This format, in distinction from other forms of lyricized music, such as opera, or show tunes, is not re- stricted to serving purposes of dialogue and storytelling and in this has the advantage of being far more “free associative.” This enhances the possibility of there being meaningful associative links both inside and between the separate songs. Each song can be considered as its own separate entity and as part of a larger whole that provides enhancing contextual meanings to the other songs on the album. Overarching themes, with important varia- tions, may be conveyed in the collection of songs. Links between drive, defense, and fantasy, and between self and object representations can become clarified in the process of examining the sequence and patterns of 166 BROG expression contained on the album. As with our usual clinical analytic material, in an effective rock album we would expect the whole to be greater than the sum of its parts. While we might expect that the most moving, evocative, and analytically engaging albums would be those where we find an artist with the inclina- tion and creative ability to convey the depth and complexity of his or her intrapsychic life, it is inevitably hazardous to infer about the inner experiences of the artist from them. As Nuetzel (2000) points out, applied psychoanalytic approaches to interpreting art are problematic due to the lack of feedback available from the “analysand.” Interpreting the relationship between a creative work and the mind of the artist adds further speculation to the mix. The primary focus of this paper will be the analysis of an album as an autonomous work of art, exploring what psychoanalytic theory can contribute to the understanding of what this work represents and expresses.

REMAIN IN LIGHT BY TALKING HEADS

Released in 1980, Remain in Light was the fourth album produced by the unconventional New York band known as Talking Heads. Consisting of former art students David Byrne (singer/lyricist/guitarist), Tina Weymouth (bass), Jerry Harrison (guitar/keyboards), and Chris Frantz (drums), the band first emerged out of the New York rock scene in the mid-1970s. Remain in Light contains eight songs that possess a striking free-associative feel, and there is little coherent thought process that can be followed for very long in the stream-of-consciousness lyrics. Producer Brian Eno was highly influential in the achievement of this effect through the implementa- tion of his personalized production style (Gans, 1985). His process was intended to promote the expression of instinct and spontaneity in the songwriting and disregarded preconceived notions of final product. Gans in- structed the band that “the things one doesn’t intend are the seeds for a more interesting future” (p. 66) and so encouraged the musicians to come to the studio without anything prepared, to experiment and improvise with their instruments, and to capture and utilize “mistakes” (p. 77) in their songwriting as modalities for getting them to open up. He encouraged singer David Byrne to be freer with the album’s lyrics, helping him to embrace the idea that “rational thinking has its limits” (Emerson, 1985). Eno, in a sense, can be said to have functioned as psychoanalyst for the group, en- couraging them to follow the fundamental rule for their songwriting and providing shape and coherence to their primary process material. Like an analyst, Eno would prove to be highly influential to the band and for a time appeared to become an object of identification for David Byrne, who was observed to be dressing like Eno for a time (Gans, 1985, p. 87). Byrne has “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 167 acknowledged that his close relationship with Eno caused him to distance from the other members of the band (p. 87), some of whom came to feel resentful of Eno’s influence on Byrne (Gans, 1985, p. 85, Reese, 1982, p. 93). The first aspect of the album that presents itself to the listener is the cover image, which displays the portraits of the four band members, each in a separate quadrant. Their faces, however, are largely blotted out by deper- sonalizing computer-generated masks, making them practically unrecog- nizable. With this disarming image, which suggests both splitting and obliteration of identity, the listener is first introduced to the album’s recurring theme of identity disturbance. The image is in bleak contrast to the title, the obscured images of the band members are unable to “remain in light.” By contrast, the back cover of the album is an all too clear depiction of a menacing formation of military planes. It suggests a dangerous wartime environment, one in which bombs may be dropped and where shelter may desperately be needed. The original working title of the album was “melody attack” (Bowman, 2001), and the planes were conceived as representing the album’s sonic assault. The album opens with “Born Under Punches,” which provides direct reference to early traumatic experiences, as indicated by the title. The song begins by startling the listener with Byrne’s jarring exclamation of “ahhh!” The listener is then kept off balance by a quirky, discordant rhythm that, through its repetition, manages to provide some sense of regularity and identity to the song. One wonders if this expresses repetition of interactions with an unpredictable, misattuned maternal figure, an attempt at mastery through making the unpredictable predictable. While difficult to follow, the lyrics can be discerned to describe the singer’s dual sense of identity. Amidst nightmarish images of limp, beaten bod- ies tumbling to the ground emerges the singer’s first identity as a “tumbler.” In a turning of passive into active, the singer copes with the horror of vio- lent and uncontrolled falls by becoming one who will master the art of graceful falling. Significantly, the listener continues to be kept off balance by the quirky, disconcerting musical refrain, as if what is being disavowed in this identity is being given over to the listener. In forcefully inducing in the listener an experience that the singer lyrically disavows, the song succeeds in expressing both the intrapsychic and interpersonal dynamics of projective identification as delineated by Ogden (1979). Projective identification as a mode of communication fits well within the thematic context of this album and is consistent with the original title of the album, “melody attack,” which suggests the use of music as a weapon by which the listener may be assailed. The second identity elaborated is that of the “government man.” This 168 BROG identity suggests a compensatory identification with the government’s strength in a desperate attempt at self-protection. The singer achieves some comfort in his omnipotent conviction that a government man cannot be burned or drowned. There is also evidence of identification with the aggres- sor in this identity, as the song opens with a focus on the singer’s own hands, the dangerous “hands of a government man.” As the song proceeds, it becomes clear that the success of these desperate strivings for security is minimal. The lyrics turn to the singer’s vulnerable state of fragile thinness and focus on rhythmic breathing, the sustaining of which becomes a consuming, desperate wish. This expression suggests a protective withdrawal from an overwhelming external world, a search for safety that leads to a dissociated state of isolation. Toward the end of the song there is juxtaposition of these disparate experiences in the musical arrangement. While the original quirky rhythm continues and remains ap- parent, it becomes obscured by a more prominent and calming musical refrain linked to the lyrical focus on breathing. The arrangement highlights the defensive function of this dissociative split, as the more disturbing experience is kept at a distance. This dissociative feel is reinforced by an important feature of this song, the singer’s use of different voices. While much of “Born Under Punches” is sung in a more immediate first-person voice of “the government man” and “the tumbler,” other scattered portions of the song are presented in a softer background voice, which becomes the voice of focus on breathing. At times, both voices are present simultaneously on the song. The written lyrics that accompany the album recognize these two voices by denoting the more immediate voice in bold print and the background voice in lighter print. The presence of these distinct, at times contradictory, voices enhances the song’s expression of split identity, a prominent theme on this album. The second song, “Cross-eyed and Painless” lyrically expresses thought disorder, but musically conveys cure. The relatively incoherent lyrics ini- tially express the singer’s frightened sense of being unable to maintain his “shape.” Frightened by his experience of formlessness, the singer imagines himself needing the hospital. This part of the song is strongly reminiscent of the “formless dread” described by Ogden (1989, p. 43), relating to his postulated “autistic contiguous” mode of experience. Ogden describes this dread as the fear of “disintegration of one’s sensory surface,” “resulting in the feeling of leaking, dissolving, disappearing or falling into shapeless unbounded space” (p. 68). These notions follow from Bion’s conceptions of “container and contained” (1962a) and Bick’s (1968) depictions of the mother’s “containing” functions, which, when introjected, allow for the inner “binding together of parts of the personality” (p. 484). Grand (1982) “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 169 conceptualized schizophrenia as developing from failure to integrate early body experiences to form a “cohesive body self” (p. 327) and understood this basic failure to develop body integrity as underlying the cognitive disorders of schizophrenia. Consistent with Grand’s formulation, the lyrics shift to a focus on the singer’s fragile grasp of reality, referred to in the song as “facts.” It is estab- lished that reality is both dangerous and intolerable for the singer, who finds that “sharp as a knife” facts can “cut a hole” in his being if taken in. There follows a recited lyrical rant that bombards the listener with stream of consciousness descriptions of “facts.” Here “facts” no longer seem dangerous and are described in concretized form as “lazy,” unmanageable, and useless. The more nonsensical lapses in the lyrics seem to embody these confused experiences (for example “working by hindsight—got the message from the oxygen”). The song ends with a long repeating refrain of the phrase “I’m still waiting.” While what is being waited for is unclear, an experience of endless and meaningless time is conveyed. This latter section of the song describes contacts with reality as being too painful to tolerate, which appears to result in a protective disruption of the capacities for processing and attributing meaning to perceptions. These expressions are consistent with Bion’s description of psychotic “attacks on alpha-function” (Bion, 1959, 1962a, 1962b). Bion developed a fairly elaborate theory of thinking that centered on his concept of the “alpha function,” his term for the mental function that con- verts sensory impressions into elements that can be stored and used for thoughts. Without the operation of alpha function, sense data are left in a more primitive form, which Bion referred to as “beta elements.” Bion, elaborating upon Freud’s (1924) observations regarding the psychotic’s hatred of reality, described “attacks on alpha-function” that origi- nate early in development when there is intolerance for sensory impressions relating to objects due to the frustrations they produce. Whereas alpha function produces “food for thought,” when it is disrupted consciousness becomes a process of producing “undigested facts” (Bion, 1962a, p. 7), or “beta elements” that are left unprocessed by the ego into something to which a sense of meaning or “truth” can be attached. Beta elements are considered to be something “on the boundary of somatic and psychic,” “elements of potential experience” (Britton, 1992), which tend to be treated as irritating physical objects that are best gotten rid of. With alpha function disrupted, the mind no longer functions as an “apparatus for thinking” but rather becomes one for “ridding the psyche of accumulations” (Bion, 1962b, p. 112) of these irritating beta element things. With alpha function disrupted, the psychotic succeeds in fulfilling a goal well described by the title of the talking heads concert movie, he can now “stop making sense.” 170 BROG

Employing a language remarkably similar to Byrne’s, Bion provides us with a model that informs our understanding of the song and helps us make sense of the confused lyrics. The song can then be considered to express experiences consistent with disruption of alpha function. To Bion’s psychotic, the taking in of reality may be experienced as “a stabbing attack from inside” (1959, p. 309), which is best avoided. To Byrne, “sharp as a knife, facts cut a hole” in his being if taken in. Bion described that without alpha function, consciousness produces only “undigested facts,” which are experienced as unwanted “things in themselves” (1962a, p. 7), objects to be gotten rid of through projective identification (1962b, p. 307). Byrne’s “facts” become concretized objects he can “push” away so that they become “lost.” Bion’s “facts” eliminate “concern for truth” (1962a, p. 11). Byrne’s “facts” “twist the truth around.” Where Bion’s “facts” serve to preempt “awareness of life” (1962a, p. 11) and of live objects, leading to existence as a lifeless “automaton” (1962a, p. 13); Byrne’s “facts” produce “living turned inside out,” and references to deanimated life can be found throughout the album. Without a processing of experience by “alpha function” there can be no, to quote the title of Bion’s book, “learning from experience.” With the song indicating, “no information left of any kind,” it is clear that the singer has been able to evacuate his sense impressions and is left unable to learn. Byrne’s concluding description of the meaningless passage of time is also in keeping with Bion’s formulations, which emphasized how “attacks on alpha-function” may lead to attempts to destroy the meaning of time through wasting it (Bion 1962b, p. 307). Significantly, references to endless and meaningless time can be found throughout the album (“Born Under Punches,” “The Great Curve,” “Once in a Lifetime,” “Houses in Motion”). It is striking that portions of this song correspond surprisingly well with the language and distinctive phenomenology that Bion emphasized in de- scribing psychotic experience, phenomenology far too nuanced to be found in any superficial attempt at conveying psychosis. Even the song’s title, “Cross-eyed and Painless,” suggests the Bionian mechanism of self-disruption of perceptual capacities for the purpose of avoiding intolerable recog- nitions. At times, the song creates for the listener the feel of being exposed to Bion’s beta element screen. In particular, Byrne’s rapid-fire recitation about facts, which barrages the listener faster than it can be taken in, brings to mind Bion’s descriptions of “the outpouring of disjointed phrases” that may be “purposive” in the effect they provoke in the listener (1962b, p. 22), an example of the use of words as physical objects. Bion’s model informs our understanding of the song and helps us make sense of the confused lyrics. In corresponding well with the formulations of such a keen observer of psychotic patients, the lyrics can be more strongly considered “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 171 to express aspects of authentic psychotic experience that were somehow within the grasp of Byrne’s imagination. This serves to strengthen our basis for considering the function of music in this song. Given the disturbing experiences of formlessness and meaninglessness described in the lyrics, it is surprising to experience the strength and buoy- ancy of the musical accompaniment. In contrast with the lyrical theme of formlessness, the music powerfully shapes the listener’s experience with its vibrant, movement-inducing beat. This song’s dense sonic composition, consisting of many layers of superimposed instrumental tracks, musically envelopes the listener. This contrast between lyrics and music highlights the potential function of music as fulfilling what Bick (1968, p. 484) has described as “skin container function” which serves to provide form to the formless. Such a function is consistent with Ogden’s (1989) conceptualization of “formless dread.” He emphasized the importance of rhythmicity to experiences of shape and enclosure, noting that “harmonic sounds...generate the experience of sensory surface” (p. 33). Citing Grand (1982), Nass (1984/1989b) concurred that, “preverbal experiences involving sound and rhythms undoubtedly form a central basis for maternal-infant contact and help provide the somatosensory stimulation so essential for the development of body image, body boundary integrity and sense of self” (p. 270). Ogden observed that defense against “formless dread” often involves the generation of “sensory surface,” which can be produced in the auditory modality through making rhythmic, repetitive noises, often in combination with rocking, repetitive movements (p. 70). This song’s frantic movement- inducing beat and hyperkinetic rhythm, in the context of the lyrics, suggests the use of music in just such a defensive manner. This notion may relate to advice that Byrne has given to his live audiences: “if you dance, you might understand the words better” (Gans, 1985, p. 76). In the concert movie Stop Making Sense it is this song, more than any others, that induces the audience to dance, and it is interesting to consider the implications of seeing people jubilantly dancing to these lyrical descriptions of thought disorder. Interestingly, Bion (1962b) described that for a sense of “truth” to be experienced regarding perceptions, there must be an experience that different sets of sense data correlate, or as Bion puts it, “harmonize” (p. 310). Without this capacity for “conjunction of one set of sense data with another,” he described the resultant inducement of “a mental state of debility” akin to “psychic starvation of truth” (p. 310). This choice of words fits well with the function of the harmony and also rhythm and melody in the music here. Harmonized music inherently contains linkages between sounds that compellingly convey a sense of truth in their harmonizing. In keeping with Bion’s metaphor, music may serve to feed a starved psyche with a safe form 172 BROG of perceptual nourishment that can be taken in and safely processed, and thereby strengthen the nonpsychotic part of the personality. Such a formulation may be analogous to Rapaport’s (1957/1967) observations regarding the use of sound in healthy individuals as “stimulus nutriment” (p. 728), serving to ward off psychosis in situations of sensory deprivation. Rapaport recognized a hierarchy of ego structures that require differing levels of sensory stimulation to provide for their maintenance. This raises the possibility that some prone to sensory processing disorder may have special need for certain types of sensory input (such as music) to allow for, in some minimal way, contact with reality. The propulsive, movement-inducing quality of the music in this song promotes vestibular stimulation, which becomes integrated with the auditory stimulation of the music. Citing numerous lines of evidence, Grand (1982) concluded that integrated vestibular stimulation can serve as “compensatory stimulus nutriment,” providing for the bolster- ing of “a failing sense of self and body integrity” (p. 335). Ogden (1989, p. 45) noted that psychosis can be contained both “‘from above’ by the binding capacity of symbolic linkages,” “and ‘from below’ by the sensory conti- nuity, rhythmicity and boundedness of the autistic-contiguous mode.” This song lyrically recognizes the need for both types of boundedness and uses music in a way that serves to symbolize its provision of both compositional/ sensory linkages, and the comforting sensation of sensory surface. This theme of music’s healing function is further elaborated in the follow- ing song, “The Great Curve,” another example of the power of beat and rhythm to uplift and excite the listener. This is the only song on the album whose lyrics, while cryptic, can be seen to refer to the healing and enlivening functions of music. The song begins with description of a woman’s attempts to make contact with “the world,” which is found to be “out of reach,” and without knowledge as it moves steadily into a night that is “darker, darker.” We learn more about the woman. She moves robotically “by remote control,” and feels “only partly human being.” She desperately wants to make contact with the world, has “messages for everyone,” but is unable to hold onto the tentative connections she makes. There then ensues descriptions of contact being made. It is recognized that the world can move from night into day and become “a world of light” with enlightening possibilities. This portion of the lyrics brings to mind the album’s title and the hopefulness it conveys. Despite experiences of dark and deadened isolation, the presence of light—signifying enlivening human contact—is sensed and held onto. Having made contact, the woman becomes engrossed in the activity of “moving to define,” as if to compensate for the previous state of knowledgelessness. As the song’s beat and musical crescendo intensifies, the lyrics come to emphasize sensual feminine images of a rhythmic world that “moves on a woman’s hips.” “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 173

Once more Bion’s formulations prove useful in helping us to consider what the song may represent. The song appears to describe a transformation from a psychotic state, with manifestations of knowledgelessness, lifeless- ness, and isolation, to a nonpsychotic state where contact can be made and knowledge absorbed. To use Bion’s language, human contact coincides with employment of “alpha function.” Yet, as the world begins to gain defi- nition, it is realized that day will soon give way to darkness, and contact will again be lost. A revolving earth alternating between darkness and light can be considered a metaphor for a personality alternating between its ver- tically split psychotic and nonpsychotic parts, parts Bion (1957) emphasized as inevitably coexisting in the psychotic mind. Bion characterized work with such patients as demonstrating oscillation between attempts to broaden and restrict relational contact, oscillations well conveyed in this song. “Once in a Lifetime” describes a different type of split identity, and at this point the album moves more clearly into the realm of schizoid experience. The lyrics, more preached than sung, are written in the second person. This has the effect of both enhancing the feel of depersonalized dissociative experience in the song (with the singer seeming to be talking to another, hidden part of himself) and of thrusting its experience of dissocia- tion onto the listener. The song describes a life lived in a dream-like state out of which the singer has begun to awaken. With a sense of panic he recognizes that his wife and possessions feel not truly his. There is then a moment of horrified recognition that he has failed in some basic way to own and inhabit his life, as the singer wonders in bewilderment, “how did I get here?” The singer’s use of different voices, prominent in “Born Under Punches,” is again present, creating once more a dissociative feel of split-self. As one voice sings in the second person of this realization of profound inauthentic- ity, there emerges a calming, background first-person voice that sings of a life dreamily given over to the current of an unending underground river, which once again beckons to soothe the panic. As the singer asks to be held down in the water, a sad state of identity submergence is conveyed, one that leaves the singer in a timeless and unchanging, “same as it ever was”, state. In his associations to this verse, Byrne has said that the water is a symbol of “submission,” “a death that implies a rebirth” (Emerson, 1985). The compellingness of this submissive submergence is conveyed musically in the song’s shimmering, hypnotic background soundscape, which threatens to entrance the listener as well into a dreamy state of obliv- iousness. The song powerfully brings to mind Winnicott’s (1960) description of the buried “true self,” unable to safely make contact with the world while a detached “false self” compliantly goes through the motions of life. Consis- 174 BROG tent with Winnicott’s description of false self manifestations, the song describes the “success of a high degree” (p. 144) that may present to the outside world in the singer’s beautiful house and wife, the subjective dis- tress that comes from feeling utterly phony and the attempts at self-destruction that may follow. The song also brings to mind Guntrip’s description of schizoid detachment that “leads to a feeling that one is play acting through life and that life isn’t real” (1969, p. 63). Such “false-self” experiences can well be understood as a form of schizoid withdrawal from object relations; indeed Guntrip viewed Winnicott’s “hidden true self awaiting a chance at rebirth” (italics mine), as the “basis of all schizoid characteristics, the deep secret flight from life” (p. 144). Reminiscent of this song and Byrne’s associations to it, Guntrip utilized a patient’s fantasy of “slipping into the local river and drifting downstream to re-emerge at some point out of the waters as a new creature” to illustrate schizoid longing to escape life through a suicide that can lead to rebirth (p. 218). “Once in a Lifetime” expresses well how compelling the pull into a withdrawn state of identity submergence can be. Guntrip emphasized how the withdrawn aspects of self “attract and draw down more and more of the rest of the personality into itself” (1969, p. 64). This regressive pull that the withdrawn ego exerts on the conscious central ego is described by Guntrip as the cause of a variety of common symptoms seen in schizoid patients, including apathy, depersonalization, feelings of emptiness, and ultimately, further ego-splitting; manifestations the album emphasizes in the forthcoming song “Houses in Motion.” One is tempted again to associate back to the album’s title. Remain in Light can be thought of as a hopeful directive to keep the true self available and accessible. Once again we may consider the function of music as relevant here. Given music’s power to tap into and gratify repressed wishes (Kohut and Laverie, 1950/1989), we may say that music may hold a special power to make contact with the “true self,” a self-experience inextricably linked to wishes and impulses (Winnicott, 1989). In its capacity to activate buried wishes, music may provide for an experience of enlivened authen- ticity, however encapsulated, in those with false-self disorders. Such a formulation makes sense insofar as music can provide a reliable and safe experience of gratification. Kohut (1957/1989) related such gratifications to what he observed as an increased level of interest in music among schizoid individuals “due to its providing pleasurable activity...inasphere outside the vulnerable interpersonal segment of the ego” (p. 35). This theme of undeveloped, buried identity, with the void filled by im- postors is further elaborated in “Seen and Not Seen.” Its lyrical narrative details a boy’s fantasy of being able to mold his facial features in accor- dance with whatever image he might choose to hold in his mind. This “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 175 process is envisioned as a way to achieve an “ideal appearance.” It emerges, however, that this metamorphosis may go awry. The ideal appearance may in fact have been arrived at out of childish whim, leaving the subject trapped in an image that feels mistaken. The song details an attempt at identification with an external image that takes place at the expense of burying a deeper, truer self that becomes “not seen.” This expresses the danger of identity loss through identification, a process that can feel like being absorbed in another person producing loss of “separate individuality,” a dread that can partially underlie schizoid re- nunciation of relationships (Guntrip, 1969 p. 36). The song is reminiscent of Byrne’s period of identification with Brian Eno. In “Houses in Motion,” several related themes are elaborated. Alternating self-representations are demonstrated in the song’s lyrical alternating between the first and third person and between being male and female gender for its protagonist. The song’s refrain, “divide and dissolve,” reminds us of the dual dreads emphasized in the other songs: division of identity (“Born Under Punches,” “Once in a Lifetime,” “Seen and Not Seen”) and an even more terrifying dissolution of self (“Cross-eyed and Painless”). The album’s most vivid depictions of schizoid existence are found in “Houses in Motion,” depictions that read almost as if they had emerged right from Guntrip’s classic descriptions of schizoid phenomenology. The singer’s life is described as being “empty motion,” “without style or grace,” a living death. His activity consists of endlessly “digging his own grave,” a cavity that extends “to the center of the earth.” The song is in some ways the antithesis of “The Great Curve,” with its theme of tentative hopefulness regarding the possibility of gratifying human contact. In this song, aside from a fleeting reference to feeling ignored, there is a striking absence of reference to another human presence. The protagonist “has give up hope,” filling his life with futile activity, “moving backwards and forwards.” These passages mirror Guntrip’s description of schizoid experience as one of “mechanized” (1969, p. 37) “depersonalized” (p. 39), apathy with life “seeming futile and meaningless” (p. 18). The song’s poignant image of retreat into a grave that extends to the earth’s core is strongly reminiscent of the case material that Guntrip used to exemplify schizoid “return to the womb” fantasies (see, for example, p. 50), which he felt represented both flight from life and the ultimate retreat from object-relations. Guntrip emphasized that there was often contained in such fantasies a longing for rebirth and renewal, themes Byrne had in mind in “Once in a Lifetime” as previously alluded to. The song is striking in its absence of reference to relational experience. With a few exceptions, there is a remarkable lack of relational experience expressed throughout the album. This absence can also be detected in ear- 176 BROG lier work by the group, and is most prominently found in the title of the album More Songs About Buildings and Food. Even the name of the band, Talking Heads, suggests depersonalization of experience. It is interesting to note that Byrne has said “I’d like to write a song about hairdos, not the people under ’em” (Sella, 2001). This naturally suggests schizoid flight from object-relations, but is also consistent with Bion’s formulations that “attacks on alpha-function” protectively preempts experience with live objects, leading to a meaningless life as an automaton in an essentially objectless world (1962a, p. 9). Flight from relational experience can be seen to be the crucial bridge between the schizoid and psychotic experiences put forth on the album. According to Fairbairn (1941, p. 51) “the integrity of the ego depends upon object relationships.” Consequently, too great a withdrawal from object relationships results in “the ultimate psychopathological disas- ter” (p. 52), which is “loss of ego.” In renouncing object-seeking libido, “the ego renounces the very form of energy which holds it together, and the ego thus becomes lost” (p. 52). According to Fairbairn, this accounts for the common schizoid fears of “going insane” (p. 52) as with progressive withdrawal from relationships the schizoid can begin to feel “as if he had lost his identity,” “as if he were dead, or as if he had ceased to exist” (p. 52). We can well imagine that this song’s haunting refrain, “divide and dissolve,” refers to such fears. In light of this song’s clear description of schizoid withdrawal, the alternating self-representations it expresses can be considered to represent splitting of the withdrawn schizoid ego, which Fairbairn considered to be the “fundamental schizoid phenomenon” (1940, p. 8). “Listening Wind” may be the album’s most complex song, containing several recognizable layers of meaning, including the fear of being taken over by a hostile outside presence. Over vaguely Middle Eastern instrumentation, the song tells the story of Mojique, a man from a foreign land, who suspiciously eyes the growing American presence in his country. Feeling invaded, Mojique quietly proceeds with plans to perpetrate aggressive acts against the Americans. The song is distinct from others on the album in that the singer is giving expression to murderous aggressive impulses. While the song expresses a paranoid experience, there are no attempts to force this experience onto the listener. The music has a calm, soothing quality as the listener is invited to share in the comfort of “the listening wind.” It is not surprising to find a paranoid experience described on this album so concerned with schizoid conflict and identity disturbance. Guntrip (1969) emphasized that paranoid experience may often represent defense against schizoid withdrawal and its prospect of ego obliteration. Meissner’s (1986, p. 31) formulation of “paranoid construction” is also relevant here. Meiss- ner described paranoid construction as “a cognitive reorganization” of real- “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 177 ity that serves to “justify and sustain” projections (p. 31). Meissner understood these projections as primarily serving the sustaining of “a sense of cohesiveness and integration within the experienced sense of self” (p. 31). He views this paranoid system as providing “a context within which the organization of the self finds a sense of...meaningful involvement and relevance” (pp. 31–32). It is clear in “Listening Wind” that Mojique, in his activity of combating persecutors, has provided a defining role for himself. Mojique has achieved a sense of self-organization far more integrated than that expressed on any other song on this album, even if it is one based on “introjective configurations of victimhood and vulnerability” (p. 32). Another significant aspect of the song involves Mojique’s hallucinatory interactions with an elemental wind. The song describes Mojique’s experience of communion with a wise and powerful wind that comforts, guides, and strengthens him. These interactions can be thought of as occurring with a projected introject, one that suggests some positive, although perhaps fragile, experience of holding. Significantly, this experience is accompanied by this album’s most beautiful and soothing instrumentation, which invites the listener to be held as well by this comforting presence. Despite its paranoid content, “Listening Wind” is the most firmly object-related song on this album. Mojique’s relationship with elemental wind can be thought of as analogous to the relationship of composer with music. Nass (1975/1989a) described the act of composing as one in which the material being composed is often experienced as being heard from an external source. He observed that composers often have “fragments of music constantly running through their thoughts,” which can provide companionship “to ward off loneliness and isolation” (p. 181). Shopper (1978) recognized the use of sound to evoke an “auditory presence” (p. 292) of another as an ego capacity that facilitates the tolerance of separation experiences, and Winnicott (1953/ 1965) recognized that music’s provision of connection with another might serve transitional object functions. This notion of music as comforting external presence, evoking an experience of connection to object, is poetically exemplified by the wind’s function in “Listening Wind.” It is worth recognizing that “Listening Wind” can be considered on one level to be a political song, one that references the wind of Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” and echoes its message of political uprising. Placed in the context of this album, even this layer of meaning can be thought of as betraying schizoid conflict. Guntrip (1969, p. 47) viewed recurring societal strivings toward freedom from authority and class oppres- sion as being the cultural expression of such conflict. He recognized these aspirations as oscillating with the opposite strivings to be “directed by total- itarian organizations of state or church” (analogous to Mojique’s wish to 178 BROG give himself over to a controlling elemental wind), oscillations he saw as manifestations of Fairbairn’s “in and out programme,” reflecting conflict between desperate dependency wishes and the fear of being controlled and lost in another. In this scenario, the drive to battle authority expresses the fear of being imprisoned by primitive absolute dependence, with its potential loss of self through incorporation into another. The album concludes with its most disturbing song, “The Overload.” Be- fore lapsing into meaninglessness, the lyrics describe “a terrible signal” that becomes “too weak to even recognize” and that leads to “a gentle collaps- ing” and “removal of the insides.” The song’s title brings to mind Grotstein’s formulations for schizophrenic psychosis (1977a, 1977b) and his description of constitutionally defective stimulus barrier in the schizophrenic infant, resulting in overwhelming overload of “uneutralized sensory bombardment” (1977b, p. 437). Drawing from Bion, Grotstein described that the schizophrenic attempts to preempt this experience by attacking his own abilities “to feel, to know, to experience the stimuli of awareness” (1977b, p. 437). This type of experience is suggested in the song, as the terrible signal becomes “too weak to even recognize,” the singer’s world becomes “quiet,” and the inner collapse is made “gentle.” No longer able to feel, the singer is left empty, with a sense that his “center is missing.” The song can be thought to express a protective dampening of the senses that leads to an experience of deadened emptiness. This resultant emptied state is potently expressed musically. The song’s droning, monotone instrumentation combined with Byrne’s affect- lessly chanted lyrics have a powerful deadening effect on the listener, strik- ingly distinct from anything else on the album. This creates the feel of an intolerable experience being dealt with through transfer into the listener. The lyrics suggest that this musical intrusion can be thought of as another representation of projective identification, which serves “the removal of the insides” when what is inside is too painful to tolerate. This song may relate as well to formulative experiences in the development of musical ability. Noy (1968/1989) has observed that those with musical talent are often overly sensitive to sound stimuli. He has postulated that such musicians may have a constitutional defect in the protective perceptual barrier against auditory stimuli and that consequently “musical abilities may be developed as part of coping mechanisms which the ego is forced to develop as a defense for mastering oversensitivity” (p. 71).

DISCUSSION

Remain in Light, while often near incoherent in its free-associative lyrical style, nevertheless comes together as a cohesive expression of a variety of “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 179 connected schizoid and psychotic experiences. With a surprising access to these elusive modes of experience, Talking Heads created an album strik- ingly consistent with psychoanalytic descriptions of psychotic and schizoid intrapsychic life. Byrne’s evocative phrase “living turned inside-out” cap- tures well the mix of connected psychotic and schizoid experiences the album emphasizes: the putting out of what is inside through projective identification and the protective retreat from life through withdrawal from the external world into the internal one as complementary “outside-in.” The music evokes in the listener the fragmenting feel of these disturbing states and then cures the listener with its compelling aliveness. Remain in Light’s mix of psychotic and schizoid expressions challenges the listener with formulating their connection. In particular, the album poses the question: does psychosis arise primarily to serve schizoid relational retreat? Bion seemed to think so. According to Bion, destruction of alpha function occurs to preempt awareness of live objects and “the emotional complications of awareness of life” (1962a, p. 11). Psychoanalytic formulations of psychosis raise important questions. In the present age we must recognize that genetic and physiologic dysfunction underlies susceptibility to schizophrenia, and that, when it comes to the treatment of schizophrenic psychosis, antipsychotic medication is far more reliable than psychoanalysis alone. Therefore, we are left with the dilemma of what to do with the many psychoanalytic formulations of psychosis. If they fail to entirely account for the etiology of psychosis, and certainly even Bion recognized the importance of constitutional factors, might they describe, for at least some of the genetically predisposed, experiences that contribute to psychotic vulnerability? Do they detail issues and conflicts that are relevant for the medicated psychotic or for many who are nonpsychotic? Apart from the question of causation of psychosis, might they tell us something valuable about the inner experience of psychosis that we as analysts should naturally value as providing an empathic bridge that helps us understand and work with these patients? Also, let us not forget that schizophrenia is not the only cause of psychotic states and is itself hardly a single entity. Psychosis may also appear in severe affective disorders and personality disorders. In particular some analysts have historically considered psychotic states to represent an extreme form of schizoid personality. Fairbairn (1941), when referring to extreme cases, seemed to use the terms schizoid and schizophrenia inter- changeably. Guntrip utilized a similar formulation and found Bion’s descriptions of disturbed alpha function helpful in elucidating aspects of schizoid personality formation. He saw such disturbance as the “starting point” for “typical schizoid experiences of depersonalization, derealization and persecutory fears of an unfeeling environment.” He further noted that 180 BROG

“with both self and object reduced to inanimate things there can be no ‘understanding’ and no beginning of ‘personal relationships’. The creation of the infantile schizoid personality has begun” (1965, pp. 383–384). Og- den’s (1982) conceptualization of “schizophrenic conflict” proves similar. Ogden defines this conflict as the “tension between wishes to maintain a psychological state in which meaning can exist versus actual attacks on the capacities to create and maintain meaning” (p. 143), which can result in a state of “nonexperience” (p. 145). He emphasizes that such states represent actual, rather than fantasized, attacks on the abilities to perceive, experience and think, resulting in a meaningless state where nothing is attributed emotional significance. Ogden noted that the intensity of this self-induced meaningless state exists in relationship to states of psychological conflict in the portion of the mind that can still generate meaning. His case material regarding states of nonexperience emphasizes the intolerable relational experiences that come into view as meaning becomes tolerated, including fears of violence, vulnerability (p. 155), and of being “suffocatingly intertwined with another” (pp. 196–197). Consistent with Bion, this suggests a view of psychosis as serving avoidance of relational dreads through production of a state of nonrelatedness. We may ask how generally useful are these formulations, and are there cases of psychosis where they may hold true? While it is not possible to definitively answer such questions at this time, these are certainly some of the questions raised by the album Remain in Light. It is clear that in the creative imagination of David Byrne, psychotic and schizoid states appear inextricably intertwined, and the album suggests that to Byrne, consistent with Bion, Guntrip, and Ogden, psychotic thought disorder arises to preempt states of relatedness. In the age of biological psychiatry, many analysts have turned their attention away from consideration of psychotic states. Remain in Light perhaps gives us cause to revisit and reevaluate some of our theories about the relationship between schizoid states and psychosis. What are the dangers that have necessitated the different forms of relational retreat expressed in Remain in Light? Experiences of traumatic im- pingement in “Born Under Punches,” emotional abandonment in “Houses in Motion,” and dreads relating to loss of self through extreme identification in “Seen and Not Seen,” and dependency in “Listening Wind” can all be inferred to be contributing factors. Significantly, Byrne envisioned these dark experiences of psychotic confusion and deadened isolation as containing elements of hope. The possibility of self-rebirth is alluded to in the album, and its most hopeful song, “The Great Curve,” conveys that emergence into a “world of light” is possible. As Mojique shows us in “Listening Wind,” when connection to a reliable and protective presence is available, “LIVING TURNED INSIDE OUT” 181 a cohesive self can begin to emerge into the world—even if the world this self emerges into remains dangerous. This is good news for psychoanalysts. Remain in Light suggests several possibilities regarding defensive and compensatory roles for music in relation to the disturbing experiences described on the album. These include music’s functioning as strengthening compensatory agent for nonpsychotic parts of self, as provider of self-defini- tion through “skin container function,” as agent for contact with buried “true self” in “false self” disorders, as a transitional object that provides an experience of being in the comforting presence of another, and as an area of ability that may develop in defensive reaction to experiences of auditory stimulus overload. In addition, the album is consistent with the notion that musical composition may at times serve the expression of projective identification fantasies. To be sure, applying psychoanalytic theories of individual psychotic and schizoid experience to a creative work such as this raises questions about the ways in which a creative work can be reasonably analyzed for meaning. For example, this work could well be viewed as an example of modernist art, which its use of different voices and expressions of fragmentation and meaningless passage of time could be considered to exemplify. Can the modernist context be considered to play a meaningful if not predominant role in influencing these expressions? In the case of this album, there is good reason to feel that this is not the case. Brian Eno’s influence in the production of this album was specifically intended to minimize the contri- bution of conscious artistic and stylistic intentions and more likely fostered the production of spontaneous intrapsychic expressions with which the album appears to be so imbued. What are the connections between the expressions on this album and the experiences of its chief lyricist, David Byrne? We do know that Byrne’s family emigrated from Scotland to North America when Byrne was two years old and made several intervening moves before finally settling in Bal- timore when Byrne was seven. He maintained a Scottish accent until the second grade before finding “I had to lose it because my classmates couldn’t understand me” (White, 1996, p. 217). Byrne has described that the frequent moving caused him to repeatedly remake the image of himself that he put forth to others (White, 1996). His parents were said to have fostered a perception of the family as “outsiders” throughout Byrne’s up- bringing. In the midst of this activity, Byrne developed an early interest in music, compulsively playing records from the age of three and taking up the harmonica at age five (Cocks, 1986, p. 82). It is tempting to speculate that the reformations in identity precipitated by these moves, and their resonance with earlier developmental experiences, sensitized Byrne to the different forms of identity disturbance found on this 182 BROG album including dissociative and false self splits and identity loss through identification. This would be consistent with what Akhtar (1995) has described regarding the effects of immigration on identity. He noted that immigration provokes a reorganization of all aspects of identity into a “hybrid identity” (p. 1051) that requires giving up of a portion of identity to become integrated into a new environment. These experiences can resonate with earlier developmental periods of identity formation, particularly the separation-individuation phase, and Akhtar considers immigration to be a “third individuation.” Regarding the process of musical composition, Nass (1984/1989b, p. 283) has noted that compositional talent evolves from preverbal experiences with sound and that “the truly gifted creator has the capacity to stay open to developmentally early modes of thought.” This appears to have been the case for Byrne. Byrne has said that this album was composed at a time “when I was on the verge of admitting more irrational things into music and into what I was thinking” (Howell, 1992, p. 38), and has described songwriting as “fishing in your unconscious” (Sella, 2001). In this most remarkable album, Byrne demonstrates an impressive access to primary process modes of thinking. As Nass (1984/1989b) has noted, the ability to remain open to and make creative use of such experiences is a considerable feat indicative of unusual ego strengths. It may be that development of musical talent from an early age helped Byrne to have continued access to these experiences. The influence of producer Brian Eno in encour- aging a process of free association in the development of these songs likely greatly facilitated the emergence and expression of these experiences in the recording studio by a talented group of musicians.

Acknowledgments. The author wishes to thank Eric Nuetzel for reviewing two earlier versions of this paper and making many helpful suggestions.

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