Why

A David Byrne song makes some profound points

The song “Why,” by David Byrne is notable for using simple-seeming language to deliver a surprising level of emotional and intellectual impact. I am particularly fond of the 2010 recording by Sherry Rene Scott. When I listen to Byrne’s original 2004 version, I find myself distracted by various verbal tics that interfere with his relatively straightforward but striking lyrics.

In classic Byrne fashion, it mixes the profound with the prosaic, the cosmic with the everyday. It starts (first verse) with the claim “I don't have any philosophy,” which is soon to be revealed as either a lie or a lack of self-awareness. The speaker’s claim is that they “see the world in a coffee cup,” and that their world view is readily resolved by finishing their coffee.

But then immediately (second verse) there is a reconsideration: some of the time, there is some sort of private universe; there is hesitation, a lack of certainty about what this is exactly, or when exactly it applies.

Then we are into the break, with the memorable line “I got skills and I got secrets, I can part my hair.” (Presumably parting hair is a skill, not a secret.) Then a confession, “I feel an empty space where love could be.” (Perhaps this is a secret?) Then we are back to considering universes: they are adjoining, they touch; we are presumably considering interpersonal relationships via this metaphor of adjoining universes. The speaker “stick[s] [his] head outside and see[s]” what is described in the remaining two verses.

In verse 3, there is a vision of nesting orbits: particles around a nucleus, planets around a sun, stars spinning around in a galaxy; we go in three lines from subatomic to cosmic scale. Then the speaker says, that isn’t even the best part…

Finally, in verse 4, we get to what the speaker thinks is the “coolest part of all.” It’s all determined, there are no miracles. It’s brought down to a concrete personal example: “we had to meet in this checkout line,” and then we revert to everyday explanations: “explain it as a simple twist of fate, but we can’t be sure.”

(I have previously considered both how to think about our lack of free will, as well as proposing a computational metaphor for our experience of free will).

Somewhat in the style that Byrne himself likely has, the speaker is both aware of scientific perspectives governing the world from atoms out through galaxies, and also ignores them most of the time. After all, what difference does it make to his cup of coffee to either think about the very small or the very large? It’s all understandable as just another everyday experience.

But when something special happens – meeting in a checkout line, probably in a romcom-style “meet cute,” or something similar – we notice the superposition of everyday “fate” explanations with the profound but hard-to-believe sense that everything is determined. Neither we nor an external factor called “fate” have any sway within the physical determinants. The song successfully represents this ongoing awkward juxtaposition and tension: even if we intellectually understand the absence of free will, it’s still a weird and uncomfortable stance that doesn’t feel right.