Showing posts with label Progressive Rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Progressive Rock. Show all posts

Monday, 12 October 2026

The 500 - #87 - The Wall - Pink Floyd

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.



Album #: 87

Album Title: The Wall

Artist: Pink Floyd

Genre:  Progressive Rock, Art Rock, Rock

Recorded: Six Studios - London, Nice, New York, Los Angeles, Correns, Hollywood

Released: November, 1979

My age at release: 14

How familiar was I with it before this week: Very Well

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #129 - dropping 42 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Comfortably Numb

It was a cold Thursday evening in late November, 1979. I was a student at Kingsville District High School in Southern Ontario and a big part of my teen-age life revolved around music. I played saxophone in the school band, and our conductor was Mr. Buchanan, the school's music teacher. Conveniently, he also happened to live just four houses down from my family on a country lane lined with orchard and pepper fields along the northern shore of Lake Erie.
My first high school - recently demolished.
Mr. Buchanan had agreed to give me rides to band practice on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Looking back, that arrangement feels almost impossible to imagine today. A teacher travelling with a student alone in his car would likely trigger a lengthy chain of policies, permissions, and concerns. In 1979, however, nobody thought twice about it. We lived less than 200 metres apart and were heading to the same place. It was a practical arrangement, it was convenient, and it was simply how things worked. The 1970s feel like the Wild West compared to the carefully supervised world we live in now.
My family home and Mr. Buchanan's. Gone are the orchards.
Most Thursdays, I was grateful for the ride. On this particular evening, though, I found myself hoping Mr. Buchanan would be late…maybe, if I was lucky, he would be sick and cancel band practice altogether.

For several days, the radio station WRIF 101 out of Detroit had been building anticipation for the release of a massive new album. In those pre-internet days, radio stations were masters of suspense. There were no music websites, no social media leaks, no YouTube preview videos, and certainly no AI assistants ready to tell you everything you wanted to know. If a major album was about to drop, radio stations became the gatekeepers of information, and they knew exactly how to keep listeners hooked.
Every few hours, WRIF would drop another clue…A huge band…their first album in years…a double album…containing more than 80 minutes of new music…an epic work unlike anything you have heard!
WRIF DJ Arthur Penhallow (1970s and 80s)
The station promised that on Thursday night they would play the entire first side of the album. For a music-obsessed teenager, this was a Super Bowl-level event. I was glued to the radio, relishing every detail the DJ delivered leading up to the big reveal.

Truth be told, the identity of the mystery band wasn't really a secret. Around Kingsville District High School’s cigarette senate, older, cooler rockers who convened in the smoking pit and on the school bus had already confidently predicted what was coming: A new record from Pink Floyd. The band’s new single, Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2), was already in heavy rotation on the rock stations. The rebellious chorus of "We don't need no education" was blasting from car stereos, portable radios and the voices of students all over Essex County. The song had worked its way so deeply into teen-age culture that I had scribbled those words across the front of my “Trapper Keeper” binder while a math teacher was trying, unsuccessfully, to provide exactly the education the song was protesting. (After more than 30 years of trying to engage students in lessons, I owe Mr. Lee an apology…it really was my fault I struggled in his math class).
Trapper Keeper Binder - a high school staple in the late 70s/early 80s
As 6.30 approached, I stood by the front window, stealing glances out to the road while the radio continued humming in the background. The DJ's voice rose with excitement as airtime for Side One drew closer. The anticipation was riveting and every commercial felt like a red light on an abandoned road.
I knew this would be the talk of the school on Friday morning and that every teenager from Grand Rapids, Michigan, to Leamington, Ontario, was tuned in…Then I saw headlights. Reliable Mr. Buchanan was stupidly on time.

I grabbed my saxophone case, pulled on my coat, and headed out into the cold November night. The DJ’s voice disappeared as I slammed the front door and aimed for the passenger seat. On most nights, I was delighted to go and make music. That night, however, it felt like I was driving away from history. It was the first night the public would hear Pink Floyd's eleventh studio record, The Wall.
Pink Floyd (Wall Era) (l-r) Richard Wright, David Gilmore, Nick 
Mason and Roger Waters.
I would hear The Wall in its entirety within a few days. A couple of my friends (or their older brothers) bought copies as soon as the record hit the stores, and I spent more than one weekend afternoon sitting cross-legged on someone’s bedroom floor as the album slowly turned on a stereo system that also occupied a place near the top of my teen-age wish list.
Gatefold interior of The Wall album.
We would study Gerald Scarfe's unsettling artwork on the inner gatefold, pore over the lyric sheets tucked inside the sleeves, and try to make sense of a story that felt far more complicated and mysterious than the disco hits and straightforward rock and roll bangers that dominated the charts that autumn. The Wall wasn't the sort of album you simply played. It was a conceptual journey ripe for exploring.

The record eventually found its way into my own collection, although not until a year later when the family moved to London, Ontario, and I finally had my first turntable…an inexpensive Candle 590X which I purchased from the now-defunct Consumers Distributing Catalogue store in the autumn of 1980.
Candle 590X Turntable - inexpensive and sounded it.
Forty dollars of babysitting money vanished in a single transaction, but for the first time I had a turntable of my own. To a teenager who measured wealth in albums rather than dollars, it felt like a sound financial decision. In fact, I was chuffed at how far I had advanced in my musical acquisitions.
Consumers Distributing Catalogue Store - A Canadian fixture 
frm 1957 - 1996
Pink Floyd’s The Wall appeared under the Christmas tree that year (1980) courtesy of my mom. At the time, she was working part-time at an Eaton’s department store demonstrating the latest miracle of modern technology: microwave ovens.
Hotpoint Microwaves - along with Toshiba, 
these were the models my mother was promoting.
In the weeks leading up to Santa’s arrival, she asked "the young men" in the record department to help with my gift selection. Rather than trying to guess what a teen-age music fanatic might want, she trusted the experts behind the counter. (Pro move mom)

To their credit, they assembled a remarkably strong starter kit for a 15-year-old with expanding musical tastes:

  • Eagles Live

  • Zenyatta Mondatta by The Police

  • Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy by The Who

  • The Wall by Pink Floyd


Looking back, I have to admire their work. They spanned American country rock, new wave, British rock royalty, and one of the most ambitious concept albums ever recorded. Forty-five years later, I'd still call that a pretty good haul for one Christmas morning. Every artist “mom selected” became featured multiple times on 2012’s The 500 list. (Thank you, unknown Eaton’s Department Store Dudes!!)
One of the Eaton;s stores in London featured in a 1960s postcard. 

By 1983, I had begun treating "We don't need no education" less as a song lyric and more as a rough draft for my academic future. A year earlier, the movie version of The Wall was released in theatres and it had an even greater impact on my education than the album itself. I was in Grade 13, (later called O.A.C. for Ontario Academic Credits) -- a uniquely Ontario fifth year of high school that existed until 2003. For many students, Grade 13 provided an extra year to prepare for university. For me, it briefly became an opportunity to perfect the art of napping, movie watching and Pop Tart & Tea consumption.
Vintage 1980s Pop Tart package.

A high school friend once described his Grade 11 as "the best two years of my life." At the time I laughed at the joke. Then I proceeded to spend roughly two and a half years in Grade 13, accumulating enough credits to graduate and, much to my parents’ relief, qualify for university.
My extended learning curve was my own fault. However, I did have friends who were willing accomplices…in particular, my chum Steve Mackison.
Steve was my roommate, a decade later, in 1993, pictured here
with my future wife, Angela.

Steve was the first person I knew who owned a VCR. That may not sound especially impressive today, but in the early 1980s owning a video cassette player instantly transformed your home into a destination. Through an uncle whose sources remained somewhat mysterious, Steve also had access to an impressive and ever-changing collection of movies. Titles like Body Heat, Death Wish II, and Scarface circulated through his living room long before many of us were old enough to watch them legitimately.
Movie poster for Body Heat.

More importantly for this story, he also acquired a copy of Pink Floyd: The Wall movie Released on video that year and starring Bob Geldof as the troubled rock star Pink, the film transformed Roger Waters' sprawling concept album into a surreal visual experience filled with Gerald Scarfe's nightmarish animation, powerful symbolism, and imagery that could be interpreted, debated, and over-analyzed for hours…and we sure did, as Steve's house soon became the campus for an unofficial educational institution we dubbed Mackison 101.
Bob Geldof as Pink in the film version of The Wall.

The schedule was flexible, but I do remember the autumn of 1984 when I attended first-period English because the teacher, Ms. Howse, was an extraordinary educator who redirected my rebellious and often unfocused teen-age self with patience, enthusiasm and a genuine passion for literature. However, after English, I would wander over to Steve's place during a second period spare. His parents, the kind and loving Babs and Wally, left for work early and returned late. The house was quiet, unsupervised, and home to one of the most comfortable pieces of furniture in my universe: a gigantic white sectional couch that could induce unconsciousness within minutes.
White, sectional sofa, similar in style to the Mackison's.
Many mornings I would arrive intending to stay for an hour. Instead, I would wake up sometime near lunch, enjoy tea, eat a couple of Pop-Tarts, and settle in for whatever movie Steve was screening that day. Class schedules gradually lost their grip under such conditions.

The Wall became a particular favourite and to say I watched the film, at least in part, a hundred times is probably an understatement. I knew it the way I knew Monty Python sketches as a pre-teen and the Ontario Grade 7 math curriculum now.
The Wall, movie poster.

Looking back, repeated viewings probably taught me quite a bit. I absorbed lessons about symbolism, metaphor, visual storytelling, alienation, grief, and the dangers of building psychological walls between ourselves and other people. I even learned about the perils of fascism and the defense of the Anzio Beachhead, which was part of the Allied Forces Italian Campaign in World War II. It was during this battle that principal songwriter for The Wall, Roger Waters, had lost his father…an event he wrote for the only song in the movie that is not on the original album, When The Tigers Broke Free.
Single for When The Tigers Broke Free - Pink Floyd.

However, what I did not absorb, unfortunately, were the lessons being taught in the classes I was missing. University entrance applications, regrettably, weren’t asking prospective students to interpret the symbolism of "marching hammers" or the satirical sentiment intended in showing robotic British school children falling like lemmings into meat grinders in the film. That’s too bad…I would have earned a scholarship.
Screen capture from an animated sequence in The Wall film.

Eventually, I made one of the smarter decisions of my teen years and transferred to another London high school, H.B Beal. The move wasn't motivated by academics alone, but it put some distance between me and the daily temptations of friends, including sessions of Mackison 101. By the time I began making friends at Beal, I had already developed better habits and found myself focused on something that had seemed optional for a while: passing courses.
H.B. Beal Secondary School in London, Ontario.

The result was a string of strong marks and successful completion of the remaining credits I needed for university admission. In the end, I escaped Grade 13 with both an education and a diploma. Whether The Wall helped or hindered that process probably depends on how I frame it. I still believe I am a better thinker and writer because of that record.

In retrospect, this Ontario teen “did need an education”. Thankfully, I found teachers willing to provide one (Tip of the hat to Mr. Buchanan, Mr. Lee, Ms. Howse and many others). I also owe a debt of thanks to Roger Waters, Pink Floyd and Mackison 101. Those experiences made me who I am today and I love the memories I created at a time in my life when I needed the friends I had and the music we listened to, including The Wall.


Things worked out fine for Steve too. He also graduated from Mackison 101, got into University and is currently The Venerable Steven Mackison, incumbent of the Church of the Redeemer in Toronto.









Sunday, 7 July 2024

The 500 - #205 - Wheels Of Fire - Cream

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 



Album: #205
Album Title: Wheels Of Fire
Artist: Cream
Genre: Blues Rock, Psychedelic Rock, Hard Rock, Proto Metal
Recorded: Two studios (U.K. & U.S.A.) and two live venues (San Francisco)
Released: Summer, 1968
My age at release: 2
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite
Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Crossroads (Live)
I've always loved a trio when it comes to rock bands. Two of my favourites are Rush and Triumph, progressive rock trios from Canada. However, I am also a fan of The Police, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Motorhead, ELP, ZZ Top, Nirvana, Beastie Boys, James Gang, Morphine, Silverchair, Husker Du and Primus. Collectively, the groups listed in boldface have 17 records on The 500 list. That total rises to an even 20 with the addition of Cream, the British supergroup comprising Eric Clapton (guitar, vocals); Jack Bruce (lead vocal, bass, harmonica); and Ginger Baker, (drums, percussion).
Cream, (l-r) Baker, Bruce, Clapton.
The term "supergroup" refers to a musical collective formed by individuals already successful as solo artists or with other bands. It first came to my attention in 1981 when the band Asia exploded onto the commercial music scene with their self-titled debut record and their chart topping single, Heat Of The Moment. Asia included members who had been in progressive rock bands that I already loved, including Yes, King Crimson, U.K. Uriah Heap and Emerson, Lake & Palmer (ELP). The unexpected commercial success of Asia felt like validation to me at 16. That summer, I suspect I skewered several romantic opportunities because of  my compulsion to share my knowledge about Asia with any girl who made the mistake of telling me she liked the song Only Time Will Tell.
However, Cream is generally regarded as the first supergroup. All three members were well established as premier blues-rock players in England. Clapton had success with The Yardbirds (#355 & #350 on The 500) and with John Mayall and The Blues Breakers (#195). Baker, whose groundbreaking drumming style blended jazz fusion and African rhythm, had gained fame with Blues Incorporated and the Graham Bond Organisation (GBO). Baker's first name isn't Ginger; it's Peter. However, he grew up in a tough area of south London and his flaming red hair quickly earned him the nickname. These days, I'd have a word with a student for using that pejorative moniker. In the 1940s, Baker accepted and adopted it like a badge of honour.
Baker, late 60s, matching his shirt with his flaming red hair.
The final member of Cream was journeyman multi-instrumentalist Jack Bruce who, by age 25, had already worked with Clapton and the Blues Breakers and with Baker in GBO. Bruce also found fame with Manfred Mann, a popular British band who took their name from their keyboardist.

The Cream trio came together because of their frustrations playing with earlier bands. Clapton found Mayall's band confining. Earlier, he left The Yardbirds because they were having "hits” with short ditties that eschewed guitar solos. Specifically, the two-and-a-half-minute song For Your Love, which topped the charts in the U.K., Canada and the United States, was built around a harpsichord melody. Similarly, Bruce and Baker felt stifled in the GBO and were fed up with band leader Bond's drug addiction and bouts of mental instability.

Graham Bond Organisation record featuring Baker and Bruce.
Baker, Bruce and Clapton initially decided on the name The Cream because they were considered "the cream of the crop" in the burgeoning U.K. blues and jazz scene of the ’60s. Sure, a bit boastful, but these lads had the chops to back it up. However, by the time of their debut release, Fresh Cream (#102 on The 500), it had been truncated to Cream.
Fresh Cream (1966), a record I look forward to writing about
in July, 2026.
Wheels Of Fire, the third release from Cream, became the world's first double record to reach platinum status -- with more than 1,000,000 units sold. It was also unusual because disc one featured nine tracks recorded in the studio, while disc two, dubbed Live at the Fillmore, included seven live recordings. For pop music buffs, a bit of trivia here is that six of the seven live recordings were captured when the band played at San Francisco's Winterland Ballroom and only the instrumental track, Toad, was recorded at the nearby Fillmore Ballroom. This is likely because the Fillmore carried more cache, as many popular ’60s psychedelic acts had played and recorded there. Among them: Jefferson Airplane, Big Brother and the Holding Company, The Grateful Dead and The Mothers of Invention. Collectively, the foursome have eight records on The 500 list.
The famous Fillmore (Carousel Ballroom) in San Francisco.
I went through a Cream phase in the late-’80s, coinciding with my purchase of the Eric Clapton four-CD boxed set Crossroads. However, that is a story for when we get to my favourite album from the trio, Disraeli Gears, which ranks at #114 on The 500. It’s about my ill-fated attempt to join a few premier local musicians as their lead singer and saxophone player for a Battle of the Bands competition in the fall of 1988.





Sunday, 7 January 2024

The 500 - #231 - A Night At The Opera - Queen

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 



Album: #231
Album Title: A Night At The Opera
Artist: Queen
Genre: Rock, Progressive Rock, Pop, Avant-Pop
Recorded: Five Studios, London, U.K. 
Released: November, 1975
My age at release: 10
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at 128, moving up 103 spots since 2012
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: '39
When I embarked on this writing journey five years ago (January, 2019) my biggest concern was writing about records of which I knew nothing. How would I "share a story or personal connection" to records I knew nothing about? If anything was going to derail this project, I thought it would be finding an engaging way to post something meaningful about records such as OutKast's Stankonia, Sound of Silver from LCD Soundsystem or 69 Love Songs from Magnetic Fields?
This isn't true. Discovering new music, I find, creates its own story. Sometimes, the inspiration comes during research or while listening to the accompanying episode of The 500 Podcast. On the other hand, familiarity can be overwhelming, leading to writer's block. Choices need to be made, such as where to start, and what information should be included in my post. Case in point: A Night At The Opera, the fourth studio record from British progressive rock band Queen.
Queen in 1975, (l-r) Roger Taylor, John Deacon,
Freddie Mercury and Brian May.
It's a feeling similar to the psychological phenomenon known as "The Tyranny of Choice", outlined in Barry Schwartz' book The Paradox Of Choice. Simply put, logic suggests that an individual provided with many options from which to choose would be happy. However, studies show that too many choices can actually lead to discomfort and even misery. That is, "Too many options make you feel like all of them are wrong and that you are wrong if you choose any of them". (Susan Orlean)
A Night at the Opera is a record that I have listened to hundreds of times. It is my favourite from their catalogue which is named after The Marx Brothers’ movie of the same name.  In 1985, my support for the band bordered on obsessiveness as I painstakingly collected every record from the group I could find.
Like most people of my vintage (Late Generation Jones, Early Generation X, born 1963-1970), I discovered Queen in elementary school. For me, it was the release of Queen's 1977 album, News Of The World which featured the single, We Are The Champions, with the B-side, We Will Rock You. Both were ubiquitous on radio stations. Many of my friends purchased the single, the album or both and collectively, we helped rocket Queen to the Canadian Top 10 that winter.
The first Queen record I acquired was The Game, released in 1980. I am surprised it is not on The 500 list. It was their biggest selling record, a critical success and featured five singles, including the monster hits Crazy Little Thing Called Love and Another One Bites The Dust.
Album cover The Game (1980).
The winter of 1985 wasn't a great one. I had dropped out of university after a disastrous start. I was working an assortment of mind-numbingly boring jobs. I was a custodian at a community centre and arena, as well clerking midnights at a Mac's Milk convenience store. Adding to my misery were three short-lived attempts at relationships, each failing heartbreakingly quicker than the last. Throughout it all, Queen was a big part of the soundtrack.
Mac's Milk logos through the decades. I worked around
the time of the middle one.
I'm not sure what supercharged my Queen fandom that year. I think it might have been a melancholy moment listening to Somebody To Love from their 1976 record A Day At The Races (another record with a title taken from a Marx Brothers' film). I was a bit of a hopeless romantic at the time -- which, in retrospect, hastened the collapse of those three ill-fated relationships. Regardless, I decided to take my sizable portion of disposable income (I was living at home) and invest in the entire Queen discography.
Album cover for A Day At The Races (1976).
By March, 1986, I owned every Queen record on vinyl and had recorded them to cassette for playing in my car and on my portable stereo player (A JVC version of a Walkman). There were twelve records, everything from their first self-titled release to their 1984 album, The Works, as well as the incredible 1979 concert record, Live Killers. I'd even tracked down the elusive Star Fleet Project record, a solo effort from Queen guitarist Brian May which also featured legendary axeman Eddie Van Halen. I wish I would have kept that one; it sells for over $50 on Ebay
Album Cover for Star Fleet Project from Brian May & Friends (1984).
There are many stories and trivia about Queen that  are all well documented. After all, Queen has had a global presence in pop culture and music for five decades and has sold 300 million records. Their singer, Freddie Mercury, and his powerful, four-octave vocal range, is often cited as the greatest frontman of all time. His life, and the story of Queen, was immortalized in the 2018 biopic Bohemian Rhapsody. The title was taken from the final track on A Night At The Opera album and has the distinction of being the only song to hit the top of the charts in three decades as it is discovered by a new generation of fans. It is also, currently, the most streamed song from the 20th Century.
Poster for the film Bohemian Rhapsody.
Despite the popularity of Bohemian Rhapsody, I selected the song 39, sung not by Mercury but by guitarist May, for my own The 500 Playlist. It is one of those deeper cuts that often found its way onto mixed cassettes I made for people in the ‘80s. The song tells the story of a group of space explorers who embark on an interstellar journey that, to them, seems to take a year.  However, due to the time dilation effect (proven in Einstein's special theory of relativity) they return to find their loved ones have grown old or died. May, who was fascinated by time travel, later completed his PhD thesis defence in astrophysics.
May graduating with his PhD in Astrophysics in 2007.
I can relate. My conventional time-travelling journey has taken me from adolescent fandom in 1976 to obsessive devotion in 1985 to a deep respect and a nostalgic love for Queen today. Relistening to anything from their catalogue transports me back in time and I can remember inhabiting the body of a confused and hopelessly romantic 20-year-old who thought he'd lost his way. He didn't. Life would be amazing by September, 1986, which I’ll get to with Paul Simon’s Graceland (#71 on The 500) in about three years.

"Don't you hear my call though you're many years away?Don't you hear me calling you?All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your handFor my lifeStill aheadPity me" 
39 Queen (1975)