DAVID BYRNE GETS FIDGETY

David Byrne is always at work on something, sometimes rock ’n’ roll. He plays the guitar well and has the voice of a chicken. When he writes songs, they can be about office workers. Life has been such for him that he has no real attitude toward it beyond bemusement. He looks like an emaciated owl as he grooves the streets of Soho, offering notes. That’s what he’s doing now.

“I get fidgety,” he says.

‘‘Sometimes I overwork myself, but other times I can be reasonable.”

Soon, he says, he’ll kick back a little.

‘‘Maybe I’ll go to Cuba,” he figures.

Or maybe, he adds, he won’t.

Because he’s busy, you see.

Like the universe, Byrne’s strange little world has been expanding this fall, and things aren’t like they used to be.