Yeah, yeah. We all know Pink Floyd. Dark Side of the Moon was the longest charting album in the history of Billboard. When I was growing up you could absolutely count on going into a anyone’s house and finding it in their record collection. And then there’s The Wall. Which just shattered the ceiling for what a rock opera could achieve, both musically and in terms of live presentation (although my personal favorite and their most political is Animals, of which gratefully he’s been doing a lot of on his recent tours).
A couple of bits on his politics:
Surprisingly good interview with Marc Maron in which he shares some pivotal moments in the development of his political ideology. https://youtu.be/aS4HHJWGMEY
“ Neoliberalism is fanning the flames of fascism ” Pt 2
The Occupation of the American Mind
*Dogs (from Animals, 1977)
You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need.
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street,
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed.
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight,
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.
And after a while, you can work on points for style.
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake, a certain look in the eye and an easy smile.
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.
(2nd verse)
You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder.
You know it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older.
And in the end you'll pack up and fly down south, Hide your head in the sand.
Just another sad old man, all alone and dying of cancer.
(Middle)
And when you lose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown.
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone.
And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around.
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone, Dragged down by the stone.
(3rd verse)
I gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused. Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used.
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise.
If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?
Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone's expendable and no-one has a real friend.
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And everything's done under the sun, And you believe at heart, everyone's a killer.
(Outro)
Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone.
How can you choose between different forms of perfection, though?