The 500 - #211 - Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

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. 

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Album: #211
Album Title: Wish You Were Here
Artist: Pink Floyd
Genre: Progressive Rock, Art Rock
Recorded: EMI Studios (Now Abbey Road Studios), London, England

Released: September, 1975
My age at release: 10
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very!

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #264, dropping 53 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts 6 - 9)

There is not another album on The 500 list that I have listened to more often than Wish You Were Here by English quartet Pink Floyd. The album has spoken to me deeply for more than 40 years and I never tire of listening to it because it seems to age along with me. The lyrics, which resonated so powerfully as a teenager, take on a different tenor now that I am listening to it as a man nearing 60. Like "comfort food" -- warm, hearty traditional dishes – that sustain you and also remind you of childhood and home.

However, the album is more than that. It is a piece of art that has seeped into the fibre of my being – witness to my life in times of joy, triumph and elation, as well as periods of darkness, sadness and loss. Seemingly part of my DNA.

The album consists of only five songs: Welcome To The Machine, Have A Cigar and the title track Wish You Were Here, book-ended by the 30-minute opus, Shine On You Crazy Diamond, which is divided into nine parts. Shine was written by three members of the band – bassist and vocalist Roger Waters, guitarist and vocalist David Gilmour and keyboardist Richard Wright. The final member of the classic line-up was drummer Nick Mason.

Pink Floyd in 1975 (l-r) Mason, Gilmour, Waters and Wright.

Shine On You Crazy Diamond was conceived by Waters as a tribute to the band's founding member, Syd Barrett. Barrett, who struggled with mental health issues and drug addiction, was eased out of the band in 1968, and his health continued to decline. Once joyful, friendly and extroverted, Barrett began experimenting heavily with the psychedelic drug LSD (Lysergic Acid Diethylamide) in the mid-sixties. Changes in his personality were gradual. However, after a long weekend during which he went missing, he returned "a different person", according to keyboardist Wright. Barrett became increasingly unreliable as a band mate. He was withdrawn, experienced hallucinations, struggled with his speech and was even prone to bouts of catatonia -- sometimes when on stage.

Syd Barrett - 1960s.

Gilmour, who was a college friend of Barrett, joined Pink Floyd as a fifth member to fill in - as needed - during live performances. However, eventually, the situation became untenable. As bassist Waters put it, "He was our friend, but most of the time we wanted to strangle him."

Although Barrett  continued to write music and released two solo albums in 1970, (Barrett and The Madcap Laughs), his mental health continued to decline. The rest of the band did not see him for many years, but  in 1975, as Floyd were recording Wish You Were Here, he arrived at the studio unannounced. He had gained a lot of weight and had shaved himself bald, including his eyebrows.  For much of the visit he brushed his teeth. When Waters asked him what he thought about the songs, Barrett replied, "Sounds a bit old."

Barrett at Abbey Road Studios (1975)

The first time I heard Shine On You Crazy Diamond, I was leveled by its hypnotic beauty. It was late at night and I was listening to a rock radio station, procrastinating over a high school homework assignment. I don't recall the song being introduced; I just remember that, at first, there was silence, which I assumed was "dead air". --

Then a gentle susurration pulsed from my tiny transistor speaker. Almost imperceptible, a rich synthetic/orchestral, whispering swelled slowly. I could detect the faint tinkling of chimes, and imagined the sound waves as electronic vines being absorbed by my entire being.

Shine On You Crazy Diamond Pt. 1 - released
as a single (which seems ridiculous - you need the
whole suite.)

The first time you truly “hear” a song, time seems to move more slowly. This was one of those times. It was like floating comfortably through a warm pool toward a distant light. I stopped everything, entranced. The notes modulated ever so subtly, but always found their way to a perfect, albeit temporary, resolution...and then a guitar, (a black Stratocaster, I  later learned) struck a simple series of four notes. I don't think I did anything but breathe for the next eight minutes...and then the vocals began…

"Remember when you were young?

You shone like the sun.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Now there's a look in your eyes,

Like black holes in the sky.

Shine on you crazy diamond."

I had no idea what it meant and it was some time before I learned it was about Barrett.  My world was forever changed by this album. I wore out at least two cassettes, listening to them over and over on my portable player. The music was my companion on walks and in the evening on my bed and on countless bus trips around the city. Sometimes, I skipped class and sat on concrete benches out side the school in order to listen to it again.

I was a toddler when the original Floyd group broke up in 1968, and I was too young to see the classic line-up (Waters, Gilmour, Mason & Wright). However, I have seen the other members on their solo outings numerous times. Most recently, I saw Roger Waters (for the sixth time) on his This Is Not A Drill tour in 2022. He included Shine (Parts 6-9) in his first set.

Waters on tour in 2022.

I also attended what was billed as David Gilmour's final concert tour in 2016. He played the first half of Shine (Parts 1-5) -- which was the highlight for me. Thirty-six years removed from my first listen, I am still transfixed by the sound Gilmour seduced from his trademark black Stratocaster guitar. Below is a photo I took at the concert.

In 2021, he auctioned off 126 of his guitars at a fund-raising event for climate change -- netting $21 million. Included in the auction was the famous "Black Strat" which fetched $3.9 million. My friends and I believed the fund-raiser signalled the end of his writing and touring. However, last month, the 78-year old announced the release of his fifth solo record, Luck And Strange, along with dates for a small 2024 tour – visiting only Rome, London, Los Angeles and New York.

It seems unlikely that we will see either of these band members perform again, but I’m thrilled to have had the opportunity of sharing their careers. As I said at the start, I’ll always have this album – my auditory comfort food.

And we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph
And sail on the steel breeze
Come on, you boy child, you winner and loser
Come on, you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!

The 500 - #225 - American Idiot - Green Day

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. 

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Album: #225
Album Title: American Idiot
Artist: Green Day
Genre: Punk Rock, Pop Rock, Concept Rock
Recorded: Three Studios in California

Released: September, 2004
My age at release: 39
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #248, dropping 23 places since the 2012 list.
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Jesus of Suburbia

Like many people of my vintage who did not have older siblings, my first record collection belonged to my parents. Nestled among the Nana Mouskouri, Elvis Presley and Mario Lanza records were a small assortment of soundtracks from movies and musicals. Some came from films I had seen -- The Sound Of Music, Oliver and Mary Poppins. Others were from unfamiliar sources -- Saturday Night Fever, Fiddler On The Roof and My Fair Lady.  Regardless, I loved them all and spent many Saturday afternoons doing school work or sorting hockey cards while listening to Chaim Topol as Tevye the Milkman sing If I Were A Rich Man.

Fiddler On The Roof album cover depicting Tevye the Milkman.

It's a bit of pop-psychology on my part, but I think this is where my love of concept albums, particularly those composed in the 1970s, was born. There is no consensus from music critics on the definition, but a "concept album" typically refers to a record that, much like the songs on a soundtrack to a musical, contains individual tracks that hold a larger meaning collectively than they do on their own. Generally, the meaning is communicated through a theme or central narrative.

An assortment of concept records, including a few of my favourites.

In 1979, as I was starting to develop my teenage taste in music, I discovered two records that supercharged my passion for the concept album and made me a fan for life of the respective creators. The first was 2112, a 1977 release from the Canadian progressive-rock trio Rush. Side one features a 20-minute, seven-part rock suite about a dystopian, collectivist future ruled by a cabal of virulent priests who outlawed individualism and creativity. It was the kind of content my 14-year-old brain craved.

Album cover for 2112 by Rush.

The other record was The Wall from British progressive-rock group Pink Floyd (#87 on The 500). At the time, this two-record epic meditation on war, loss, addiction, isolation, celebrity and fascism was almost too much for me to comprehend. In fact, I spent many hours throughout high school trying to understand all its subtleties. In retrospect, that time might have been better spent on my studies but I regret nothing.

Album cover for Pink Floyd's The Wall.

Throughout the ‘80s and early ‘90s, concept albums remained an important part of my audio diet. Others released before 1980 could be found in used record bins, such as The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway (Genesis, 1975), Thick As A Brick (Jethro Tull, 1972) or Tommy (The Who, 1969, at #96 on The 500). More were released as I hit my 20s, including Misplaced Childhood (Marillion, 1985) and Operation: Mindcrime (Queensryche, 1988). The complex musicianship and clever, political, emotional and socially charged lyrical content synced with my disaffected, socially-critical early-twenties mindset.

Album cover for Operation: Mindcrime, Queensryche.

Then, around 1990 and in my mid-20s my interest in concept albums waned. My appetite for themes of rebellion, unrequited romance, tragedy and social commentary, so robust in my youth, began to shift as my taste in music broadened and perspective matured. By 2004, when Green Day's American Idiot was released, I believed the concept album was a relic of the past. Moreover, with the release of the iPod and a variety of other digital music players, it seemed the "album" itself was dead as a standard packaging of tracks.

2nd Generation Nano iPod playing Jesus Of Suburbia,
from Green Day's American Idiot (2004)

Indeed, in 2004-05, I was teaching Grade 8 students, many of whom owned one of the small, digital music players on the market. Their focus was on individual songs rather than albums. These 13-year-old music fans regarded vinyl records and compact discs as prehistoric media of their parents' generation. Then along came American Idiot, the seventh studio record from California pop-punk trio Green Day, and changed everything for them...and me.

Green Day are (l-r) Mike Dirnt, Billie-Joe Armstrong & Tre Cool. 

Seemingly overnight, the fashion in my classroom shifted. Sure, there were many still sporting a hip-hop look, with closely cropped Eminem-styled haircuts, oversized baggy pants that hung below their boxer short waistbands and flat-brimmed baseball hats turned comically sideways on their heads. However, some (particularly the girls) began sporting skinny jeans, untucked black button-down shirts, beanie hats, studded chokers, red ties and Converse sneakers. And, of course, Green Day concert T-shirts -- especially after May, 2005, when the band performed at the John Labatt Centre in my hometown of London, Ontario.

Green Day Fashion for teens (circa 2005)

Rest assured, this then-39-year-old teacher did not adopt the punk-rock ensemble...mid-life crisis aside. However, like many of my students, I obtained a copy of the entire record, not just a few tracks, and for the first time in more than 15 years, I was emotionally invested in a concept record. In 2005, I even bought the CD and DVD, Bullet In A Bible,  featuring a live performance from their American Idiot U.K. tour.

The punk-rock opera features a narrative set in the shadow of 9/11, the Iraq War and the presidency of George W. Bush. The protagonist is a disillusioned teenage slacker, dubbed the Jesus of Suburbia. This anti-hero describes himself as "a son of rage and love", surviving on a "steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin", looking for meaning in a world where he feels he cannot trust the media or government.

In many ways, the themes on the record line-up nicely with those concept records I loved in my teens/early twenties -- 2112, The Wall, Misplaced Childhood, The Lamb and Operation:Mindcrime. However, listening to American Idiot when I was 39 failed to inspire the same revolutionary, nihilistic energy of my youth. The angry, romantic outsider that I used to be had been replaced by a calm, professional adult staring down his 40s. Regardless, I embraced the record and enjoyed seeing my young students connect  with its message of moral, political and social outrage. Most of all, I enjoyed watching them head toward their high-school years, inspired by art the same way I had been two decades earlier. That time when fascination with Fiddler On The Roof turned passe I discovered that music and lyrics could be complex narratives, shaping and lasting a lifetime.

The 500 - #347 - The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn - Pink Floyd

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. 

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Album: # 347

Album Title: The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn

Artist: Pink Floyd

Genre: Experimental, Psychedelic Rock, Acid Rock

Recorded: Spring, 1967

Released: August, 1967

My age at release: 2

How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Interstellar Overdrive

Full disclosure, Pink Floyd is one of my favourite bands. They have been since I discovered their music in the fall of 1979. I have a humorous story about how I thought they were a "biker band", but I will save that for when we get to one of the other three records they have on this list.

Three of the Big Four Pink Floyd albums on The 500 List

It was not a surprise to me that three of the "big four albums" by British progressive rock group Pink Floyd were on The 500 list. However, I was surprised that the other "big" record (according the fans and critics) was not. That is the 1977 release, Animals.

Album Cover for Animals (1977)

Instead, Pink Floyd's debut record, Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, appears at #347. The selection perplexed. Animals is, by every measure, the superior album. It was better received critically and commercially: it outsold Piper four times over; and it is still a "fan favourite". In fact, the iconic floating pig from the record cover continues to hover over the heads of fans attending performances by Roger Waters -- the last of the Floyd members still touring. 

Waters, who recently restarted his Covid-delayed world tour, will appear in Toronto next July. I will be there and it will be the seventh time I have seen a "Floyd" concert. The classic line-up dissolved in the early 80s, but tours led by Waters or guitarist David Gilmour have filled the void for me over the past 40 years. Sadly, I suspect this is the last time I will see any Floyd member perform live. The remaining members have passed on or retired, and Waters will be 80 years old by the conclusion of this tour.

Which brings me back to this week's record, Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, an album that introduced the world to this unique, clever, creative and musically gifted band nearly 60 years ago. The original line-up featured Waters (bass), Nick Mason (drums), Richard Wright (keyboards) and Syd Barrett (guitars and lead vocals).

(l-r) Waters, Mason, Barrett & Wright

Waters, Mason and Wright met and began performing in 1963 in a variety of configurations under the names Sigma 6, The Meggadeaths, The Abdabs, The Screaming Abdabs, Leonard's Lodgers, Spectrum Five and The Tea Set. In 1965, Waters' childhood friend, Barrett, moved to London to attend arts college. He eventually joined the band, taking over on guitar and lead vocals and the foursome rebranded themselves as The Pink Floyd Sound. The name was taken from two blues records in Barrett's collection, one by Pink Anderson and the other by Floyd Council. 

Blues musicians who inspired Pink Floyd's name

Pink Floyd performed at several venues in the London area. Initially, they played Rhythm & Blues standards, but Barrett and Wright clicked as musicians and the group began to explore experimental sonic landscapes through improvisational jams. They incorporated a rudimentary, but hypnotic, light show and gained a loyal following, particularly among counter-culture youth experimenting with the psychedelic drug, LSD. The band were, in the parlance of the time, "a trip".

To fully appreciate Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, one has to imagine it the way it was intended to be heard -- live and loud. There is nothing quite like escaping with a band on a sonically dense and musically tight jam session. This is what Floyd fans in the early 60s expected and Barrett served as conductor and, having also taken LSD before most performances, the spiritual shaman. His stage presence was, according to biographer Nicholas Shaffner, "utterly riveting" with "enthusiastic displays of improvisational madness with his body, voice and guitar." 

The term "madness" is an unfortunate one that lingers from a different time when mental illness lacked the profile it has today. In the 1980s, when my friends and I were teenagers and fans of the band, we found Barrett's madcap antics fascinating. We were not yet of an age to recognize that this was a man, not much older than ourselves, who was suffering from profound mental illness, exacerbated by unregulated, heavy psychoactive drug use.

The cover for Barrett's first solo album The Madcap Laughs

Eventually, Barrett was unable to perform live with the band. He became unreliable as a musician, sometimes drifting off during a song, lost in his own LSD-clouded thoughts. The band recruited guitarist David Gilmore to replace him and Waters took over the lead vocals. The newly forged Pink Floyd would go on to become one of the biggest and best selling groups of all time. This was the band that would eventually release those "Big Four" records in the 1970s, a band without Syd Barrett.

(l-r) Wright, Gilmore, Mason & Waters - Pink Floyd 1973

As I revisited the music of early Pink Floyd and did more research into the tragedy of Barrett, I began to understand better the importance of Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. Syd Barrett is cited as an influence by some of the most important and significant pop musicians of all time. Paul McCartney, Pete Townshend, David Bowie and Kurt Cobain all credit him as inspiration. Barrett was full of childish innocence, and that shines through on the tracks Bike, The Gnome and See Emily Play. He was also an incredibly talented guitarist. Interstellar Overdrive, from this week's record, is ranked #36 on another Rolling Stone Magazine's list of the Greatest Guitar Songs Of All Time.

Perhaps, most importantly, he is a cautionary tale of tragedy. Though a gifted and talented artist, he fell victim to the choices he made for the sake of his art. Somewhere in his performances, he got lost. Gone, but not forgotten. He continued to inspire Pink Floyd well into the 1970s, as we'll learn with their next record on this list: Wish You Were Here, dedicated to Barrett and his lasting influence on the group.

Influential Albums Day 5

Day 5

This is the fifth post in a series of ten documenting the albums I consider influential. My first post, found here, provides some insight into the rationale behind this journey. The first album I selected was the Soundtrack to "Oliver", which I discovered in 1973 at about age 8. My second choice can be found here and was The Cars Debut album. The third selection was "All the World's A Stage" from Canadian band Rush (found here). The fourth, Duran Duran's "Rio" is (here).

The story behind this album actually begins in the late 70’s when I was about 11 or 12 in the small, lakeside farming town of Kingsville, Ontario. I had made a friend with a guy named John who was a couple years older than I. He lived on a farm near Windsor, but often stayed at his grandparents’ place about a block from my home during the summer.

He was usually up to no good and I certainly made some dubious choices with him. One summer morning, he arrived at my house with $20 and suggested we walk into town to the pool hall - where we could play pinball, pool & video games, get ice cream and talk to girls. I was nowhere near the “talking to girls” stage of my life. Regardless, the other two options were entirely in my wheelhouse.

On the third day this happened, I asked him where he was getting the money.

“I stole it”, he said plaintively “my aunt is staying with my grandmother and she is rich - so she’ll never notice. I just take it out of her purse, she has lots.”

At this point in the story, I would like to say that I took a firm stand and refused to condone this nefarious act; but, video games and ice cream do something to the 12-year-old brain -- it’s like hypnosis.

By day 4, the jig was up. To his credit, he didn’t tell on me. His grandparents really liked me and I think he wanted to keep that relationship honest. Regardless of the reason, he took the fall and had to stay at home and do chores in order to begin his reparations. I volunteered to help him (once again, not out of honour or duty...but because I was bored and there was no one else to hang with).

That evening, we got permission to walk around the block. John wanted to go to this house where “The Bikers Lived”. In retrospect, it was a couple guys with long hair, handlebar moustaches and motorcycles. However, in my adolescent mind, they were Hard-Core Outlaws. I was always extra-intimidated when they weren’t outside because John always insisted on knocking on their door - which was exactly what he did on this hot summer evening.

They invited us in and John immediately began talking about motorcycles with them. Their living room looked exactly as you'd imagine if I said the words 

“Late 70’s, twenty-something, bachelor pad.” 

It was beanbags, bead curtains, shag carpet, empty beer cans and posters on the wall - mainly women in bikinis straddling Harley Davidson bikes and (likely) the ubiquitous Robert Crumb "Keep On Truckin" poster that adorned many walls of my youth.

However, there was one that I had never seen before - it had a shiny black background and a single shaft of white light thrust from the darkness on the left. It traveled upward and pierced a white triangle. The light disappeared, but re-emerged on the right of the triangle in fan of spectral colours. It was, of course, the album art for Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon.” I knew this at the time, because that was also printed on the poster in glossy, bold lettering.

For the next few years, I would identify Pink Floyd as being: “Music that biker’s liked”, and I would give it a wide berth. I was content with my Supertramp, ELO, Rush and Cars records, thank you very much.

It was a few years later. I was in my room doing homework and listening to late night rock radio.

At first, there was silence, like dead air… and then I heard something primitive, but absolutely beautiful in its simplicity begin to radiate from my tiny transistor speaker. Almost imperceptible at first, a rich synthetic, but also orchestral, hum grew slowly - like electronic vines creeping through my synapses. It was simple, but also seemed to be complexly layered - with the sound of fragile chimes whispering like dusty windswept glass in the distance...there, then gone.

The first time you truly “hear” a song, time seems to move more slowly. This was one of those times. It was like floating comfortably through a warm pool toward a distant, pleasant light. I stopped everything and was entranced.

The notes would modulate ever so subtly, but always find their way to a perfect, albeit temporary, resolution...and then a guitar, playing a simple series of four notes that seemed to ring out and fade at the same time. I don't think I did anything but breathe for the next 15 minutes.

It was the opening to “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” from “Wish You Were Here” by, that "famous biker band", Pink Floyd. My world was shaken and I was forever changed by this album (as well as everything else by The Floyd). I wore out at least two cassettes of this on countless bus trips around the city in my early teens. I have purchased it on vinyl and CD and I have been fortunate enough to see both Roger Waters & David Gilmore in concert on a number of occasions. Sadly, the line-up that recorded this record disbanded in the early 80’s and I did not seem them all play together. Pink Floyd have a stellar catalogue - but this was, for me, the high water mark.

So, thanks John. Despite your troubled ways -- which eventually forced us to part company permanently, you were a pivotal part of my youth and an important part of my taste in music. And, thank you anonymous biker guys (who are probably pot-bellied grandfathers in their mid-sixties now). Thank you for introducing me to Pink Floyd.