The True Story of David Byrne

THERE'S SOMETHING faintly forbidding about David Byrne. Oh, he's friendly enough, sitting over the table of a discreet suite at Blake's Hotel in Kensington for an afternoon of interviews (I'm sandwiched between a French magazine and dinner with a crowd of people from his record company). He's quite charming, in fact. But there's something about his manner that whispers, ever so politely: speak to me only of my work.