…and we probably think that song is about him
Have you ever experimented on yourself? You know, pulling your own finger nails out, that sort of thing? I have: I recently downloaded Dark Side of the Moon, The Wall and Wish You Were Here from iTunes.
As a kid I was pretty familiar with Pink Floyd. I saw them a couple of times at free concerts in Hyde Park circa 1970, and that sleeve upon which the fourteen-year-old me would be sticking the rizlas together on would, at friends’ houses, inevitably have been Ummagumma, or Meddle, or Atom Heart Mother. I didn’t particularly like them, but they were hard to dislike either: a sort of muzak for stoned heads. Dark Side of the Moon registered as some kind of monument; impossible to ignore, just there. But by 1973 anything that could be described as prog was strictly off the menu so far as I was concerned. Wish You Were Here and The Wall simply didn’t exist for me, beyond despising The Wall‘s title track and hit single.
So why did I download those albums last week? In my rôle as Chief Proof Reader for Rock’s Backpages I’d come to look forward to reading lengthy pieces on the Floyd. So entertaining. All that British reserve cracking under the weight of its own inarticulacy. All those grim power plays, all that poorly expressed angst. All that hatred for Roger Waters. Fantastic stuff. And I suppose I’d started to confuse my enjoyment of these retrospectives with the actual music itself. Surely something that could encourage such copy had to be worth revisiting?
Well, not really. Dark Side remained what I thought it had been in the first place: a few decent ideas stretched to breaking-point. The Wall was and remains an absolutely vile record in which Roger Waters barks stupid, reductive lyrics (“Hey teacher! Leave those kids alone!”) over teeth-grindingly awful music.
But Wish You Were Here, despite being a slight wee thing essentially made up of just a couple of songs, contains one total gem: ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’. It, indeed the whole album, is about Syd Barrett. Perhaps because it has a direct emotional core, as opposed to the usual didactic, rhetorical approach so beloved of Roger Waters, it finally does something that the Floyd were rarely able to do: tug at the heartstrings.
4 Responses to Fact: the post-Barrett Pink Floyd only wrote one good song…
Ask and ye shall receive . . . Only a week or so ago, Mark, I happened to hear a Seasick Steve tune on the radio, and that reminded me that you hadn’t posted a #3 in your “Things and people I really despise” series (one I dig following) as of yet. Then a few days later your Pink Floyd posting appeared, and while it’s probably not absolute enough in its iconoclasm to sport the series title, I’m with you, brother, in all the details you cite.
I’d never heard much of Pink Floyd until Dark Side of the Moon was such a monster here in the States, and what I heard then didn’t attract me to the band — their music seemed pompous and bland at the same time. Other CREEM writers volunteered to do our Pink Floyd reviews, which kept me from any in-depth examination of their canon.
When I finally heard Pink Floyd’s (fantastic) “Arnold Layne” years later, it set off an IED in my synapses — I couldn’t believe it was the SAME band! Of course, it wasn’t — Syd Barrett was still on board and setting the controls for the heart of the stun when that song was new. Ye gods — if Syd had been able to keep his amazing head together, Pink Floyd could’ve given the Kinks and Who a run for the m*n*y with a series of “Arnold Layne”esque songs. That one definitely shines on for me, glad to know the band’s “survivors” recognize its author’s brilliance too.
Hey Richard, good to hear from you. Pompous and bland at the same time… almost a dictionary definition of Prog. Weren’t Floyd a miserable bunch? All that ghastly middle-class (Arts subsection) angst.
I’ll give Gilmore his due, he’s a decent blues-rock guitar chap, but the rest? Plodders. I don’t actually know if I would have dug Barrett Floyd if it had continued, but the man could write songs.
I was very aware of Floyd goings-on when I was, what? 14? 15? Gilmore’s younger brother went to the same school as I, and even back then we were all aware of the pre/post-Barrett ramifications. As far back as that (’70-’72) people fell into one or other of the two camps. The real hipsters dug Emily etc. whilst the great-coated dunderheads thought Ummagumma the dog’s knob. I wasn’t part of that particular squabble, what with my brother force-feeding me White Light/White Heat.
Still further proof that to be a music critic one all one really needs is a good vocabulary, basic grammar skills, and an air of condescension. Perceptivity, musical understanding, or opinions any more valid than any lunkhead’s on the street are not required.
Good luck to you. Christgau went far on less.
I guess I wdon’t really fall into either camp, as I enjoy everything from the first singles in ’66, to about ’72. They were never my favorite band, but there was some interesting stuff there, and Dave’s guitar playing was usually pretty good.
But then came the crushing boredom of DSOTM. Time was a decent single, but the rest has not aged well (to these ears), and was never that great to begin with…
But boy did that album bring in some serious cash… lesson learned…
All that we would get thereafter was Roger Water’s & Co recycling the same ideas for fun and profit.
Skeptical? Strum along with Animals’ “Pigs On The Wing” and then The Wall’s “Mother”… It’s the same song… At least the Italian import of Animals had the complete recording of POTW with Snowy White’s brilliant guitar solo intact…
Then there are the (post-dsotm)live albums, which if nothing else, prove that you can’t hear a light show. Six warblers warbling, five keyboards synthing,four guitars strumming, three drummers dumbing, two bassists basing and a sniper in a pear tree…
As for the rest of the Pink Fraud’s canon, you can listen if you like… They’ve suffered for their art, so I guess it’s your turn…