No. 117 - Talking Heads’ “Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On)” changed my life

Was Julian Williams listening to this song, or was it listening to him?

Nov 21, 2025

This Song Changed My Life is an independent music publication featuring weekly essays from people all around the world about the songs that mean the most to them. Created (and illustrated) by Grace Lilly.

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• 4 min read •

For the most part, I’ve never been an envious or jealous person. It’s never been in me. I’m grateful for that. However, if I’ve ever had any sense of envy, it’s towards the people with these amazing, beautiful lights inside of them that guide them in the world. A blinding lust and joy for life. A burning flame to enjoy, adventure, create, connect, and feel in this world. It’s really beautiful.

I was 16 years old when I realized my flame was more of a lighter that’s low on fluid and each day is windier than the next. I was also 16 when I heard Talking Heads’ “Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On)” off their 1980 album Remain In Light, a phrase that feels more like a mantra I forcefully tell myself every morning than the title of an album. Upon reading the track listing, the song immediately stuck out like a sore thumb. To be “born under punches” meant to literally be brought into the world taking hits.

On this particular fall afternoon, I was sprawled on my bedroom floor. “My office” I called it. And in the office that day, my teenage mind was certain of two facts: there was something wrong with the world (true) and there was something wrong with me (partially false, it’s actually called “depression”).

My overly contemplative mind was working so hard that day, it caused my breath to shorten. My heart was more of a thump than a beat. My eyes watery, prepared to drown. Years later, these features would develop into what are known as panic attacks. However, in the beginning, they were just familiar emotional earthquakes no one else seemed to notice. The floor often seemed the safest place to be while these quiet, frantic thoughts raced through my head, Something is wrong. I don’t know who to tell about it, but something is wrong and it’s awful. I hope no one notices what I’m noticing. But why is no one else seeing this?

HA!

In an instant, I noticed that someone else did notice. A voice had chosen to laugh at my mood.

“Born Under Punches” begins with a comical, if not defiant, laugh from frontman David Byrne. Immediately, I remember feeling exposed. My thoughts had been heard. My journals read. The grand but awful joke called living was realized by another person. And the response was, Oh, you know this is all a big joke right? You don’t have to laugh. The punchline never really comes. But you know that, right?

Truthfully, there are so few times when I have felt connected to anything or anyone that it’s sometimes shocking to even me. I deeply wish I could. I’ve grown adept at faking it. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s also my comfort zone.

In that moment though, orange leaves falling outside my window, I was connected. Rising from my office (the floor), pacing quickly evolved into vibrant shaking (I don’t think I danced before this). I was rewinding and replaying. I never let the song actually finish that day as I feverishly searched the internet to find the statements being said.

And that was a huge part of the situation: These weren’t song lyrics. These were statements. Statements I didn’t know how to make at the time. Important statements. A rant I knew in the back of my mind, but never had the voice to articulate, never found a peer or adult to reconcile it with. SOMETHING IS WRONG! YOU’RE NOT SEEING IT!

For some beautiful reason, David Byrne knew and was literally screaming about it:

Don’t you miss it!
Don’t you miss it!
Some of you people just about missed it!

I’m on the front lawn now. The crisp fall air making my nose run. Simultaneously dancing while being careful that I didn’t drop my CD player (it was that long ago). Catching glances from the neighbors. A quick squint from the front door by my usually unfazed grandmother. Reactions to teenagers moving in frenzied circles on lawns are not that different from reactions to dogs sniffing trees: you notice it, let it happen, and quickly forget about it.

But they couldn’t see what was happening.

I was having a definitive moment.

There are these definitive moments for us all in life. Some are quiet or loud. Some public or private. Most alternating between beautiful and painful. I’m not sure if all or none of those words applied to this particular moment, but I am sure that I was thinking about my inner light. I was thinking about the lighter inside of me, low on fluid, flickering in the wind. I know this because that’s when the chanting came:

And the heat goes on…

Was I listening to this song or was it listening to me? No one knew about the lighter analogy! The dimming internal flame I was so careful to hide. But now, here’s this whole gospel-like chorus telling me that, despite my feelings, the heat was going to go on. There is no stopping it. It might not be blinding. It might just be a low-fuel lighter. But the heat will go on, whether you want it to or not.

I don’t know if this song changed my life.

I do know that this was the first time I realized I could be pulled out of darkness. ◆

About Julian

Julian Williams is a Brooklyn, New York-based, Buffalo, New York-born visual artist, producer, writer, and person. His artwork, in all forms, focuses on the expression of emotions and thoughts many people are unable or find difficult to convey. He is continually dedicated to making what is usually intangible slightly easier to reach.

Website jewilliamsart.com

Instagram @jewilliams_art

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