For a band whose members haven’t really spoken to each
other in almost five years, Pink Floyd can still dominate the
charts like Godzilla over Tokyo. The anthemic classic rock fave
“Dark Side of the Moon,” set the record for most
consecutive weeks on the charts (more than 700), while their
’79 double-album release, “The Wall,” still
manages to sell 3,500 copies daily.
Never mind that their latest release, “Is There Anybody
Out There: The Wall Live” will most certainly achieve
platinum status in the near future.
And why shouldn’t it? It’s hard to deny the plethora
of chemistry, charisma and intrigue the band provides ““ oh,
and the awesome music found even in the days of their first in a
series of disbandings, starting in 1980.
According to Roger Waters, lyricist, bassist and tortured
genius, it was success that triggered the band’s downfall
(try telling that to *NSync). During their stadium arena 1978
Animals Tour, Waters lost it and spat on a fan trying to climb the
netting separating the crowd from the band, causing a trauma of
fierce introspection ““ out of which arose “The
Wall,” which is probably the band’s most popular title
to date.
The “Animals” album fell at a weird time in the
history of rock ‘n’ roll, between the decaying
overblown grandiosity of prog-rock, which had dominated earlier in
the decade, and the rise of the suave facade of disco, which would
pester the planet for a few more years before disappearing off the
face of the earth along with eight-tracks and afros.
For the Floyd, it was seemingly impossible to top their last
couple of releases (1972’s “Dark Side of the
Moon” and 1975’s “Wish You Were Here). Both were
absolutely stellar and awe-inspiring in terms of sales as well as
in creativity. The band did just what it does best ““ be
themselves ““ and produced an extraordinary, yet often
overlooked masterpiece.
Lightly based on George Orwell’s “Animal
Farm,” the conceptualized “Animals” merges the
psychedelia of ’60s Floyd with a tight modern rock sound,
trading in the LSD for steroids. Although not quite as outwardly
cynical as “The Wall,” the album’s lyrics
pessimistically address current societal stratifications,
representing social classes in the form of animals, and
coincidentally song titles.
The 17-minute opus “Dogs” opens with clean guitar
strums and gently swooping synth notes. Guitarist David Gilmour
gently sings lines of advice for corporate success. With lyrics
like “you have to be trusted by the people that you lie to,
so that when they turn their backs on you, you’ll get the
chance to put the knife in,” one can not help but think he is
counseling an eager law student ““ or perhaps the next
Microsoft executive.
When all the instruments have joined in and Gilmour gets to work
on his Stratocaster, its hard to find any trace of the gentle
warmth that inhabits “Wish You Were Here,” and easy to
see the band’s change of direction that would bring them to
“The Wall.” In the long instrumental section which
ensues after a couple more verses, Gilmour gets down with beautiful
soloing over Nick Mason’s disco-ish beat (which no one blames
him for ““ hey, it was the ’70s!). Rick Wright’s
Floyd-defining synth washes ensue, backed by eerie dog bark samples
and repetitive vocal samples of the word “stone.”
Knowing the Floyd, this is probably no random planning. Although
extraordinarily long, “Dogs” never wears out its
welcome, as tends to happen with most progressive rock pieces of
similar length.
Next up is “Pigs (Three Different Ones),” a
12-minute jab at some of Britain’s biggest political and
monarchical figureheads of the time, in which Waters taunts
“big, bad pig ““ charade you are … You’re nearly
a laugh but you’re really a cry.” Notable is
Gilmour’s interplay of multiple, processed rhythm guitar
tracks, reminiscent of the sonic shenanigans of effects-pedal
fiends Radiohead. The track closes with a solid, vengeful solo by
Gilmour, which screams with a twisted patriotic repression.
Last of the long tracks ““ but definitely not least ““
is the haplessly driven “Sheep.” The song opens with
sounds of sheep cries and a wavering electronic piano solo crafted
by Wright. Neither too lofty nor complex, the solo leads perfectly
into Waters’ voice, which acutely sounds like a pterodactyl
sweeping over an unsuspecting pasture.
Filled with classic Floyd gloomy tripper lines (“things
aren’t really what they seem ““ no this is not a bad
dream”) yet keeping in character with the rest of the album,
“Sheep” suggests that the working class is just as
screwed as everyone else is. False prophets, corporate executives
and meat-hungry dogs all merge into the same faceless predator to
which the Sheep eventually succumb. “You better stay home and
do as you’re told … get out of the road if you want to grow
old” almost sounds like good advice for those unfortunate to
have been born in Roger’s segregate world of indistinction
and submissiveness.
Two acoustic “love” songs, “Pigs on the
Wing” parts I and II, serve as album bookends, and the second
closes the album on an almost high note. Even though we all put up
with his grimness, lines like “every fool knows a dog needs a
home, a shelter from pigs on the wing” prove that Waters
wasn’t all that gloomy… at least at the time.
Three years and several upsetting concert incidences later,
Rogers and Co. were back in the studio, this time equipped with
enough vengefulness (and genius) to fill two records. Although
“Animals” was never really that successful of an album
““ at least when compared with the rest of the Pink Floyd back
catalogue ““ its concept is an intriguing one, and its music
definitely rocks. On the very edge of a dying genre of music,
“Animals” hearkens back to an old standard of
originality, proving that when the bounds of music are explored,
moments of great beauty are frequently unearthed.
McNally is a third-year neuroscience
student. E-mail him at nougat@ucla.edu.