apartment

BERKELEY — Twelve hours after walking offstage at the Greek Theatre on Tuesday night, David Byrne sits down with a cup of coffee on the patio of a tony hillside hotel and admits that he’s starting to get a little misty.

Last night’s concert on the campus of UC Berkeley was one of the remaining few on Byrne’s yearlong world tour after 2025’s “Who Is The Sky?” album. About an hour from now, a bus will pull up to ferry the 74-year-old musician and the dozen or so members of his touring company to the airport for a quick flight to Los Angeles, where they’re set to perform Friday and Saturday nights at the Hollywood Bowl.

“There’s a firepit over there,” Byrne says, pointing across the patio, “so after the show we all sat around and told stories. Everyone’s such a joy to work with — we’re all having a really good time.” He sighs. “That’s kind of rare, actually.”

“Who Is The Sky?,” which Byrne made with the producer Kid Harpoon, contrasts deep lyrics about art, home and enlightenment with bright pop arrangements filled with crisp grooves and singalong melodies. (Kid Harpoon, whose real name is Tom Hull, is known for the hits he’s created with Harry Styles and Miley Cyrus.) In the show, Byrne blends whimsical new tunes like “My Apartment Is My Friend” and “I Met the Buddha at a Downtown Party” with jittery oldies by Talking Heads, the hugely influential art-rock band he formed in 1975 with Jerry Harrison, Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth.

Yet even when the songs get dark — as in “Life During Wartime,” which comes with images of police violence on the enormous digital screens behind the players — the mood is euphoric: Like Byrne’s previous tour behind 2018’s “American Utopia,” this one has the musicians holding their instruments as they execute choreographed moves on a bare stage; the result is more or less a nonstop dance party. (Also like “American Utopia,” which Spike Lee adapted into an acclaimed concert film, this tour will make its way to movie screens courtesy of “The Brutalist” director Brady Corbet.)

So you can see why Byrne would be sad to see it come to an end, not least because he’s been using his days off to tool around a given town and take pictures of cool local color. At the top of the gig in Berkeley, he showed photos from a hike he’d taken and of a car he’d come across with a tricked-out sound system.

“Any ideas of things to see in L.A.?” he asks me, dressed in a violet-colored chore jacket only a few shades removed from the blue one he wore onstage. “That hike was a workout. Even some of the dancers said those hills were steep.”

“Life During Wartime” was maybe 15% faster last night than the original record.
Could’ve been, yes. You’ll have to ask the drummers — they set the tempo, and they get excited and it kind of ramps up. It’s sometimes hard for me to keep up — I’ve got a lot of words to get out.

I was fortunate to be at Van Halen’s next-to-last show at the Hollywood Bowl, and I remember every song felt insanely fast.
Wonder if that was drugs?

You ever see Van Halen?
Never saw them live. David Lee Roth was a Talking Heads fan — came to visit our rehearsal loft once. I was kind of surprised: “How did you…?”

David Byrne performs at the Coachella festival in April.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Would you say things turned out better or worse than the future you predicted in “Life During Wartime”?
Well, we’re not having a total civil war. There’s maybe still a chance that could happen, but it seems there’s more resistance now than there was before — a sense that we don’t have to just roll over and take all the stuff that’s going on. The footage we got kind of hits home.

You show the video of the guy on the bike pedaling away from ICE agents in Chicago.
That often gets a cheer.

I wondered if it ever doesn’t.
In the United States, no. Seeing the underdog get away — that’s a pretty timeworn story. We didn’t have that video at the beginning of the tour — it didn’t exist. I saw it on some news service, and I thought, oh, this has to lead the whole sequence. When we were first putting the show together, we had more video stuff. But screens are really seductive, so you start looking at that. We said, no, you have to connect with real live people, then you can put it up.

Have you been to the Sphere in Las Vegas?
A bunch of the band and I went to see “Wizard of Oz.” I haven’t seen a band in there. But it was really a lot of fun — quite a spectacle with the video all around you.

Don Henley compares the Eagles’ role there to the organist at a silent movie.
The pit band, yeah. That’s a thing to do — works especially well, I would imagine, for bands like the Eagles and other groups that don’t do a whole lot of song and dance.

At 74, can your body do all the dancing you want to do?
Oh, no. With more physical training, I’d probably be able to do a little more than I can now. But I’m never gonna be able to do what some of the dancers can do.

How about what you used to be able to do?
Like in “Stop Making Sense”? There’s some stuff in there where I go, nope, can’t do that. But I can do other things. I don’t have a feeling that I’m barely getting by.

Are you an exerciser?
I have a person I see in New York. It hasn’t happened so much lately because we’ve been moving around so much. But Sasha [Rivero, from the touring company] leads us through these warm-up exercises before shows — kind of a cross between strength training and yoga.

Beyond the value of staying agile, how do you think about maintaining your looks?
I’m aware it’s a thing. If I came across as old and decrepit, it might be less exciting for some of the audience. Not great for business.

When did your hair go gray?
In the ’90s, I want to say. I dyed it for a while when I started seeing a fair amount of gray coming in. Then at one point I was on holiday with my then-wife and just said, “Let’s cut it off and see what’s under there.” By that point it was pretty much all gray. I was OK with it.

Who’s a performer you admire who’s still out there doing it late in life?
Caetano Veloso — he’s served as a role model for me. He’s someone who’s reinvented himself over and over and over again — done records that are very different than the record before. Even on the same record, he can be really experimental and then do something incredibly romantic.

Can you envision a time when you’d stop performing?
I don’t think so. I can see there might be a point where I don’t do as much dancing around.

I’ve seen Willie Nelson probably half a dozen times in the last 10 years. He sits there and plays, and it’s great.
“My Apartment Is My Friend,” that was inspired by a Willie Nelson song: “Hello Walls.” There’s also a George Jones song, “The Grand Tour,” where he takes you into his place: “This is where she sat, that’s where she put out her cigarette,” all this kind of stuff. I loved that you can make an apartment into a character. So I started putting down ideas, and I realized: Should I reveal that it’s about an apartment right off the bat, or should I wait till the last line of the chorus? Before that, you don’t know — it sounds like a love song. The title gives it away. But Tom, when I said “should I change the title?” he said, “The title’s what got me to listen to the demo.”

If I say that the songs from the new album didn’t come alive for me until the show, how does that strike you?
Good and bad. I wish the record had the same impact that the songs have live. But then I also think to myself: Well, the reason you go to see a live show is because you’re getting something more than you get by just putting a record on.

(Josh Edelson / For The Times)

You’ve been playing for years now with this mobile handheld setup.
I wasn’t sure an audience was gonna go for it. I don’t know why, but I thought it was kind of a big step for an audience to take in.

To not have the traditional rock band stage set.
“Here’s the drummer — we know what he does.” There were people on the last tour who would say, “It’s got to be playback — you’re not really playing it.” So I added an introduction to a song where one by one we introduced the musicians at the beginning of the song, and you could hear how we put it together. An unexpected consequence is that it democratized the whole stage experience for the band members. There’s parts where the drummers come to the front and I go to the back, which you would never have in a regular kind of show where the drummer’s stuck on a riser. Everyone gets to be a star — everyone gets to be recognized as an individual.

Would you say your eagerness to share the spotlight could only have come after years of being the focal point?
I have no idea.

Most of the musicians are pretty young.
Younger than me, anyway.

Why is that important to you?
I learn from them — musically but also personally. I learn about what music they’re listening to, what their experiences have been, what their take on things is. They’re not living in the past — they don’t have nostalgia for the good old days.

In 2023, you spent a fair chunk of time looking back with the rest of Talking Heads for a rerelease of “Stop Making Sense.” Did you enjoy that or grit your teeth through it?
It was fine — it was really nice. As we said over and over, we’re very proud of that show and the music that we did and the film that Jonathan [Demme] made. And that it was going to connect with a completely new generation. Jerry came to the show last night. He lives in Marin.

You guys hang out?
Afterwards, yeah. I mean, he had to drive back. He said he enjoyed it — said it was a good show. I connected him with our keyboard player because the keyboard player came up with these interesting technical things I thought Jerry might be interested in. He has an accelerometer attached to his arm — you don’t see it because his sleeve covers it — where he raises his arm and it increases the volume like a foot pedal on a keyboard.

Tell me about Brady Corbet’s concert movie. He shot it in 70mm.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure why. But Brady made the case, and it wasn’t about bringing people into the theater. He said when you go to 70mm it’s a little bit closer to what your eye experiences.

Talking Heads in Italy in 1982: Tina Weymouth, from left, Jerry Harrison, Chris Frantz and David Byrne.

(Luciano Viti / Getty Images)

This is kind of a cutesy formulation, but I wonder if it’s pushing back on the dominance of vertical video.
Biologically and evolutionary-wise, we experience the world horizontally. We don’t go walking around looking up at the sky — the stuff that’s gonna come get us is somewhere on our eye level.

Jimmy Iovine gave an interview to the New York Times the other day where he said one of the last things he asked AI was about your set list.
He could’ve just asked me.

Iovine was extremely pro-AI in this interview. What’s your vibe?
My vibe is positive and negative. On the positive side, we’ve all heard the hype from Silicon Valley that we’re gonna have medical breakthroughs. The negatives — how could there not be massive job loss? What concerns me is the environmental stuff. The last thing the planet needs is a massive increase in energy usage. We’re talking about the survival of species — of everything that lives on Earth. To ramp up that part of what humans do just seems like the worst possible thing you could do.

The other thing that worries me is that machines aren’t really thinking — they’re probabilistic. This stuff has been designed intentionally to mimic human beings, and we are very, very easily fooled. I think that’s dangerous because we give it agency. We assume all these things about it — we trust it. I mean, people will listen to a political argument from a chatbot more than they will from another person.

Seems bad.
Right?

Any worthwhile creative application you can identify?
I used it a little bit to animate my drawings in one of the sequences from the show. They’re my drawings — I wasn’t taking from anybody else. In that case I feel like it’s a tool that’s very efficient. Might put some animators out of work, but if I had to pay the rate for animators on something like that, it would take a year to do and cost me a fortune.

What if the producer on your next record says, “Hey, here’s a little shortcut we can use”?
We already use little shortcuts — Auto-Tune is one. That’s not AI, but we’ve been using those kinds of tools, and there’s always the danger of overusing them. When people use Auto-Tune a tiny bit, it’s pretty much invisible. But on a lot of records — I’m not talking about the Cher record — it’s a little too perfect, and you start to lose the human connection. So it’s not a clear-cut choice of: Do I use this or not? It’s: Do I get seduced and use it too much?

“More is more and less is a bore.” ― Iris Apfel

After spending decades collecting clean-lined Midcentury Modern furniture and accessories, stylist Wendi Weger felt it was time to give her Silver Lake apartment a playful update.

“Everything was brown,” Weger says as she sits on a plush sofa covered in pink and chartreuse striped Christian Lacroix fabric. “It looked like a UPS truck in here. I mean, look at me,” she adds, fluffing the ruffles of her Accidente Con Flores dress, her intricately manicured fingers decorated with colorful Zuni Toons rings. “That is not me.”

In this series, we spotlight L.A. rentals with style. From perfect gallery walls to temporary decor hacks, these renters get creative, even in small spaces. And Angelenos need the inspiration: Most are renters.

Indeed.

Weger, who grew up in Madison, Wis., studied cinema during graduate school at NYU and later moved to Los Angeles to work in Hollywood as a producer and stylist, is no minimalist. Always expressive, she describes her style as more akin to a “Victorian parlor meets hunting lodge.”

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So it’s no surprise that her one-bedroom apartment, in a Storybook-style fourplex built in 1922, is just as dramatic as she is.

Wendi Weger views her Silver Lake apartment as her creative studio. “I don’t mind a lot of frenetic activity,” she says.

A wall covered in hollyhock wallpaper from House of Hackney stands out in Weger’s bedroom, along with a handmade quilt signed by Grace Verburg that includes crochet, beadwork and hundreds of ribbon rosettes.

Weger thrives on “kinetic energy,” be it color, texture or a pair of bedazzled Italian loafers. In her bedroom, she mixes floral textiles and modern art with a quirky stepstool shaped like an ear of corn. In the dining room, vintage Doyle Lane ceramic beads dangle from a Mission-style wooden clock while designer handbags are draped over chairs and hat racks.

On her fireplace, an ornate gilded mirror from the 1940s she found at Sunbeam Vintage is flanked by porcelain figurines. A porcelain Capodimonte lamp nestled under vintage Japanese prints is described as “Rococo on acid.” Nearby, a handmade chandelier by artist Helen Stickler, decorated with vintage Swarovski crystals and beads, adds to what Weger describes as her “Candyland vibe.”

Weger twirls in a pink taffeta Batsheva dress. “My apartment is basically how I dress — like an Edwardian ghost in a prairie dress who wandered into a circus and decided to keep everything,” she says.

“That’s where I am right now,” she says about the apartment she has called home for 17 years. “I feel like I can finally play. I’m trying to bring in a candy theme without making it too grandma. At this point in my life, I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.”

Her friend, creative director Dana Sidell, says self-expression is central to how Weger lives her life. “Wendi has the unique ability to bring nostalgia, whimsy and individuality all together into maximalist style,” she says in an email.

In 2020, as the film industry slowed down because of COVID-19, Weger took a chance and opened the Curatorial Dept., a vintage and designer resale shop in Atwater Village. Popular with celebrities including Lake Bell, Nick Thune and politicians Nithya Raman and Laura Friedman, the store is known for Weger’s signature “clothing sculptures,” where she layers mannequins with dozens of pieces of clothing and accessories.

“Styling is my art,” she says. “To me, clothing is sculpture.”

A silk Gucci skirt hangs alongside artworks in Weger’s bedroom. “Whether it’s producing a film, building a boutique, styling a room or a mannequin, it’s about assemblage and synergy,” she says.

To demonstrate, Weger starts layering a mannequin in her bedroom, picking from racks of clothes, handbags, color-coordinated shoes and jewelry nearby. She layers an “I’m With Stupid” T-shirt over a dress shirt and Yohji Yamamoto linen pants, then keeps adding more. “It needs a ruffle,” she says, caught up in the process, before adding a frilly collar and glittering vintage brooch.

A bright blue first-place ribbon materializes and becomes the perfect accessory. “It’s not maximalist enough,” she says with a sigh.

Weger says her apartment reflects the way she dresses, with layers of art, vintage clothes and accessories, each with its own story. She jokes that it looks like one of her clothing sculptures has “exploded across a room.”

When asked if there’s such a thing as too much, she shakes her head with conviction.

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1. Weger holds a pair of sparkling JVB X Nomasei ‘Nono’ loafers. 2. The hollyhock pattern from House of Hackney appears throughout Weger’s apartment, even on this fabric lampshade.

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1. A Gucci cashmere bunny cape hangs like an artwork in the bedroom. 2. Doyle Lane ceramic beads hang on a wooden clock above a collection of $2 bills.

“I’ll wear a baby cup as jewelry,” she says, picking up a small silver cup from a cabinet to show her point. What’s one more charm on one of several necklaces already heavy with lockets and hearts?

Weger’s home decor follows the same idea. Some pieces, like a pink silk pleated Gucci skirt by Alessandro Michele, hang on her bedroom wall next to vintage artworks, including a framed cross stitch by a friend that reads “Live. Laugh. Toaster Bath.” Others are neatly arranged in her butler’s pantry. Clothing racks fill the hallway, living room and even her bedroom. “Clothing and handbags are art to me,” she says.

Then there’s the cashmere embroidered rabbit cape by Gucci, which she purchased secondhand.

“People chase me down on the street whenever I wear it and ask me where I got it,” she says. “To me, it’s art.”

(Myung J. Chun/Los Angeles Times)

(Myung J. Chun/Los Angeles Times)

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Humor is important to her too. In the living room, a blue resin coffee table shaped like a candy wrapper adds to the playful feel, along with vintage candy dishes.

“There’s a lot of absurdity and comedy here,” she says, pointing out the Spanish angels with guns, a series of artworks from the 1600s.

“There’s something about these Spanish archangels with weapons,” she says. “They look tough and unisex to me, with mild expressions, beautiful clothes, tights, ruffles and sleeves, plus a firearm. It’s a great symbol for being a warrior, especially as a small business owner.”

Nearly everything in her apartment is secondhand, from the vintage Audubon prints arranged salon-style in the living room to the Navajo rugs and David Shrigley print she found at a garage sale. Mixing old and new is important, she says, referring to the House of Hackney hollyhock pattern she recently added to the walls of the living room and bedrooms, as well as the dining room lampshade.

Handbags are draped over dining chairs.

Her place settings are also layered, including Weger’s grandmother’s Wedgwood china.

Her apartment is essentially her atelier, or as she calls it, “the creative engine behind” the Curatorial Dept. She often does intake for her store at her kitchen table, surrounded by needlepoint pillows made by her Great-Uncle Elliott, who was also an entrepreneur. “This is not cluttered to me,” she says. “This is just where everything gets sorted.”

“Wendi’s style has a touch of the harlequin to it — playful, theatrical and always ready for an occasion,” writer and former NYU classmate Josh Rothenberger says in an email. “Her world is a warm pastiche of vintage and bespoke, histories inherited and histories invented on the fly. Her furniture invites the kind of existential frolic that pairs best with Cuvée — only to remind us, hours later, that true beauty should never be too precious to dance on.”

Although Weger says she isn’t a “woo-woo person,” she believes her apartment and store came from asking the universe for what she wanted. “Tell people what you want,” she says. “Especially in L.A. People support you and help you reach your dreams. I said I wanted this apartment, and because of that, my friend thought of me when she was moving. The same thing happened with my shop. I was in a different industry when I told a shop owner friend I’d always wanted a shop, that I intended to have a shop, and she thought of me when hers became available.”

She’s already thinking about what she wants next: “I’ll be sure to tell everyone I know.”

A section of Sunset Boulevard remained closed on Sunday because of last week’s destructive water main break, with officials saying they didn’t know when repairs to the 110-year-old pipe would be completed or the street reopened.

“While there is no set completion date yet, our crews remain dedicated to finishing the repairs as quickly and safely as possible,” the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power said in a Sunday release.

Some West Hollywood residents remained displaced Sunday from apartments where underground garages were flooded by Thursday’s water main rupture. And some businesses near the scene remained indefinitely closed.

An aerial view of workers viewing a broken water main at Sunset Boulevard and Holloway Drive in West Hollywood that sent water gushing down many streets, closing several of them Thursday.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Vanessa Lopez, an LADWP spokeswoman, said that two other water pipe ruptures on Saturday — one in Venice and another in Hollywood — had been repaired.

The city received a report of yet another break on an 8-inch water main at 1501 Lincoln Blvd. on Sunday morning, she said, which crews were still working to repair.

Lopez said those breaks were not related to each other or to Thursday’s fracture of the far bigger pipe in West Hollywood, which was constructed in 1916.

Officials said Sunday that Sunset Boulevard remains closed between Sherbourne Drive and San Vicente Boulevard, with limited local access on nearby streets including Cynthia and San Vicente.

City officials urged the public to avoid the area.

LADWP said tap water in West Hollywood remains safe to drink, but officials encouraged residents to conserve.

With the 36-inch water transmission line undergoing repairs, West Hollywood is currently being served by an 8-inch distribution pipe. Residents may notice low water pressure, especially those living in upper-floor apartments, officials said.

Book Soup, a popular bookstore on Sunset Blvd, was one of the shops and restaurants forced to close after streets were flooded.

“For the safety of staff and the community, we’re keeping the store closed for the time being,” an employee said in a recording on its answering machine Sunday.

“We want to reassure everyone that the store is completely fine and our books are safe and dry,” she added.

Thursday’s fracture was on a steel pipe that forms the major arteries for water delivery from reservoirs and tanks to smaller distribution lines across Los Angeles. That section of the Sunset Trunk Line had been slated for replacement in 2031, according to the utility.

In 2019, LADWP said roughly 29% of the city’s pipes were over 80 years old, nearing their typical 100-year lifespan.

When the trunk line ruptured early Thursday morning, millions of gallons of water gushed down Holloway Drive, inundating businesses and flooding underground parking garages.

Repairs to a water main on Sunset Boulevard Saturday in West Hollywood.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

West Hollywood Mayor John Heilman estimated that between 150 and 200 cars were damaged or destroyed in the flood.

The leak was stopped after a few hours, leaving a giant sinkhole in the middle of Sunset Boulevard.

On Saturday, city crews replaced a 25-foot section of the line. Workers have refilled the pipe with water and are now working to repressurize it, officials said Sunday.

The workers must then disinfect the pipe with chlorine and test the water’s quality for safety. The hole in Sunset Blvd. will then be filled and the street repaired, officials said.

Residents and businesses who lost property and suffered damages can find information about filing claims at www.LADWP.com/Claims.

Dramatic video shows the moment an explosion rocked a building in Tacoma, sending flames and debris toward firefighters as they were investigating reports of smoke rising from an electrical room within the residential complex. No injuries were reported.

An effort to exempt new apartment buildings in Los Angeles from the so-called mansion tax moved forward Wednesday, amid concerns that the tax is suppressing housing construction and making the affordability crisis worse.

In a 9 to 5 vote, the City Council directed the City Attorney to draft a ballot measure that would ask voters to change Measure ULA, which funds subsidized housing construction and homeless prevention efforts by taxing nearly all property sales over $5.3 million.

Once the proposal is drafted, it must come back to council for a final approval to make it onto the November ballot.

Wednesday was the deadline for the council to take the vote and stay on track to make the ballot this fall, said Councilmember Katy Yaroslavsky, who introduced the proposal along with Councilmember Tim McOsker.

“We should protect what is working and fix what’s not,” Yaroslavsky told colleagues before the vote. “If we fail to act today, that door closes.”

The ULA tax, approved by voters in 2022, is known as the mansion tax but applies a 4% tax to nearly all properties — whether they are mansions or not — if they sell for more than $5.3 million, increasing to 5.5% for sales at or above $10.6 million.

Under the proposed ballot measure, the ULA tax wouldn’t apply to multifamily buildings sold within 10 years of construction. There would also be some more technical changes put before voters, including to allow ULA money to be spent on temporary housing for homeless people.

Since ULA passed, apartment construction in Los Angeles has plummeted. Some studies have found that the additional tax on property sales has played a big role in the drop-off by adding extra costs for developers.

That’s led to fears that the tax, in some ways, is making the affordability crisis worse by suppressing new supply.

A coalition of business groups and pro-development activists have been pushing the council to amend ULA, in part hoping that the effort will blunt another possible measure on November’s ballot that would cancel ULA and other similar taxes altogether.

ULA supporters, however, have fought the exemption for new construction and say that other factors — like high interest rates — are the reasons for the multi-year construction drop-off. They also point to a surge in new building during the first three months of this year to argue that it’s too early to know ULA’s long-term impact.

Also on Wednesday, the council, in a unanimous vote, directed the City Attorney to draft a separate ballot measure that would exempt homeowners impacted by the Palisades fire from paying the ULA tax for five years, retroactive to Jan. 7, 2025.

“ULA has been an impediment to the Palisades recovery, leaving properties sitting empty and people mired in tax and regulatory hell,” City Councilmember Traci Park, who represents Pacific Palisades, told colleagues before the vote. “We need to move forward with this exemption.”

Similar to the broader ULA changes, the Palisades changes must receive a second council approval to make the ballot.