Masterpiece: The Wall
[Today: Tear down the wall...]
It was officially known as “Stützwandelement UL 12.11″ (retaining wall element UL 12.11) and construction on it began in June of 1961. It was 12 feet high and four feet wide, and it ran for 87 miles down the middle of Berlin, separating East from West and providing a symbolic divide between the Communist and Democratic spheres of the world. Monday marks the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. For decades that wall stood implacable and unfeeling, and there were no signs at the time that it wouldn’t stand for 100 years more. But with the dull thud of sledgehammers and ecstatic cries of joy, the Cold War came to a sudden and surprising halt on November 9, 1989, when the world was treated to the astonishing sight of people partying atop the the Berlin Wall and breaking chunks of it away while crowds cheered them on. For just a moment, it seemed that soggy cliches like One Love, One World, One People might actually be coming true.
Pink Floyd released The Wall in November of 1979 – 10 years to the month before the fall of the Berlin Wall. But unlike Stützwandelement UL 12.11, the wall referred to in the title is no physical structure of concrete, barbed wire, and watchtowers. This double LP recounts the unhappy life and times of a fictional rock star named Pink, who has enclosed himself within an impenetrable emotional wall. A dead father, overbearing mother, psychotic schoolteacher, and cheating wife have driven him to the brink, and through song he recounts the circumstances that brought him to emotional paralysis. It isn’t a pretty picture, it’s often heavy handed, and it doesn’t forecast much hope. But like the Cold War, The Wall ends with spirited chants of “Tear down the wall!” and just a flicker of hope.
It was officially known as “Stützwandelement UL 12.11″ (retaining wall element UL 12.11) and construction on it began in June of 1961. It was 12 feet high and four feet wide, and it ran for 87 miles down the middle of Berlin, separating East from West and providing a symbolic divide between the Communist and Democratic spheres of the world. Monday marks the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. For decades that wall stood implacable and unfeeling, and there were no signs at the time that it wouldn’t stand for 100 years more. But with the dull thud of sledgehammers and ecstatic cries of joy, the Cold War came to a sudden and surprising halt on November 9, 1989, when the world was treated to the astonishing sight of people partying atop the the Berlin Wall and breaking chunks of it away while crowds cheered them on. For just a moment, it seemed that soggy cliches like One Love, One World, One People might actually be coming true.
Pink Floyd released The Wall in November of 1979 – 10 years to the month before the fall of the Berlin Wall. But unlike Stützwandelement UL 12.11, the wall referred to in the title is no physical structure of concrete, barbed wire, and watchtowers. This double LP recounts the unhappy life and times of a fictional rock star named Pink, who has enclosed himself within an impenetrable emotional wall. A dead father, overbearing mother, psychotic schoolteacher, and cheating wife have driven him to the brink, and through song he recounts the circumstances that brought him to emotional paralysis. It isn’t a pretty picture, it’s often heavy handed, and it doesn’t forecast much hope. But like the Cold War, The Wall ends with spirited chants of “Tear down the wall!” and just a flicker of hope.
[Today: David Gilmour steps out...]
Pink Floyd guitarist David Gilmour released his debut solo album in May of 1978, between the release of Floyd’s Animals and The Wall. Like both of those albums, this music is shimmering yet tense, and features Gilmour’s lilting/biting guitar. But Gilmour’s vocals here are relaxed (as opposed to then Floyd-mate Roger Waters’ aural tantrums), and his lyrics contain none of the Mommy/Daddy histrionics that Floyd was starting to dabble in. Gilmour would contribute ‘Comfortably Numb’ to The Wall, and that song’s fevered, gauzy sense of longing runs the length of David Gilmour.
As Gilmour explained during an interview just after the album’s release, “This album was important to me in terms of self respect. At first I didn’t think my name was big enough to carry it. Being in a group for so long can be a bit claustrophobic, and I needed to step out from behind Pink Floyd’s shadow.” The specter of Floyd certainly looms over parts of this album – during ‘It’s Deafinitely’ Gilmour coaxes a rumble out his guitar that’s a dead-ringer preview of the sound that would drive ‘Run Like Hell’ on The Wall. In fact, enough riffs here are reminiscent of various Floyd tunes that this album sounds more like vintage Floyd than the last few albums released under that band’s name. [Suggested alternate album titles: The Softer Side Of Pink and A Kinder, Gentler Floyd.]
Gilmour has such a signature guitar style that it’s somewhat inevitable that this would sound like a Pink Floyd side project. But because it was his first solo album, it sounds more like Floyd than even his later solo works – just one reason it’s the best album released under his name. Side One is nearly perfect, as winding instrumental ‘Mihalis’ leads into claustrophobic ‘There’s No Way Out Of Here’, which segues into ‘Cry From The Streets’, a tough, cool song that fades into the tender ‘So Far Away’. It may lack the conceptual and theatrical panache that drives so many Pink Floyd albums, but David Gilmour interlocks as well as any of them. Who needs the drama?
Pink Floyd guitarist David Gilmour released his debut solo album in May of 1978, between the release of Floyd’s Animals and The Wall. Like both of those albums, this music is shimmering yet tense, and features Gilmour’s lilting/biting guitar. But Gilmour’s vocals here are relaxed (as opposed to then Floyd-mate Roger Waters’ aural tantrums), and his lyrics contain none of the Mommy/Daddy histrionics that Floyd was starting to dabble in. Gilmour would contribute ‘Comfortably Numb’ to The Wall, and that song’s fevered, gauzy sense of longing runs the length of David Gilmour.
As Gilmour explained during an interview just after the album’s release, “This album was important to me in terms of self respect. At first I didn’t think my name was big enough to carry it. Being in a group for so long can be a bit claustrophobic, and I needed to step out from behind Pink Floyd’s shadow.” The specter of Floyd certainly looms over parts of this album – during ‘It’s Deafinitely’ Gilmour coaxes a rumble out his guitar that’s a dead-ringer preview of the sound that would drive ‘Run Like Hell’ on The Wall. In fact, enough riffs here are reminiscent of various Floyd tunes that this album sounds more like vintage Floyd than the last few albums released under that band’s name. [Suggested alternate album titles: The Softer Side Of Pink and A Kinder, Gentler Floyd.]
Gilmour has such a signature guitar style that it’s somewhat inevitable that this would sound like a Pink Floyd side project. But because it was his first solo album, it sounds more like Floyd than even his later solo works – just one reason it’s the best album released under his name. Side One is nearly perfect, as winding instrumental ‘Mihalis’ leads into claustrophobic ‘There’s No Way Out Of Here’, which segues into ‘Cry From The Streets’, a tough, cool song that fades into the tender ‘So Far Away’. It may lack the conceptual and theatrical panache that drives so many Pink Floyd albums, but David Gilmour interlocks as well as any of them. Who needs the drama?
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