David Byrne Bicycle Book Browsed

In which the erstwhile Talking Heads frontman gets in the van, er, make that, gets on the wheel....

BY JAKE CLINE

"I don't think my personal life is very interesting or unique," David Byrne admits by way of explaining that Bicycle Diaries (Penguin Books) will offer no juicy details about what went on backstage, behind closed doors or underneath those infamous oversize suits during the performer's days with the Talking Heads and beyond, as if anyone would want to read about such things, anyway.  Providing a welcome antidote to the ever-present glut of celebrity tell-alls and self-aggrandizing autobiographies, Byrne focuses on the external in his book, namely the artists, thinkers, musicians and other interesting people he's met while pedaling his fold-up bicycle through and around some of the world's greatest cities. Along the way, he makes a convincing argument that there may be no better way to get to know a place, its people and its culture than while seeing it from two wheels.

Armed with a wide-open mind and a seemingly boundless curiosity about all manner of subjects, Byrne makes for an ideal traveling companion. He largely eschews familiar landmarks and tourist attractions in favor of small art galleries in Berlin; nightclubs at which indigenous musicians perform in Buenos Aires; solitary detours (by car) to the Australian Interior; and, in Manila, a karaoke bar where he is surprised to find a "guy who looks like an '80s Bon Jovi" singing "Burning Down the House." Nearly every encounter with a resident or visit to a local institution sets Byrne to musing about a more-universal  topic. A dinner with a gallery owner in Berlin leads to a discussion about the meaning of beauty. A bike ride through the outskirts of Istanbul  causes him to consider the "religious, ideological, and emotional element inherent" in the cheaply made new buildings that are crowding out old and historic ones. A visit to a museum in London, where everyday objects such as plastic combs and toothpaste dispensers are on display, prompts a brief discourse on the act of creation, a topic he revisits after attending a wild, impromptu party in San Francisco complete with a marching band and guests dressed in "Victorian hats and fake mustaches on some of the men, wigs on some of the women, and some folks [wearing] not much at all." Try finding any of that in a book by Rick Steves.

Byrne closes Bicycle Diaries with an essay about the benefits for cities that adopt bike-friendly attitudes and policies. In large metropolitan areas such as New York, he argues, bicycle transportation can provide a cheap and clean way to minimize congestion, pollution and other traffic-related problems. But he's also pragmatic enough to realize the world would not suddenly become a more peaceful and beautiful place if everyone were to toss their car keys into the deep, blue sea and begin exclusively riding bicycles. In the end, he admits, "I don't ride my bike all over the place because it's ecological or worthy. I mainly do it for the sense of freedom and exhilaration."