Chapter 1: The Wall
"Pain as product" just about sums it up for this "classic" album. Strangely
enough, I have great difficulty listening to this album without feeling
some degree of sadness. Even "pornography"
(by The Cure) seems an easier listen sometimes, and that's saying something.
As for Alan Parker's movie, I have even greater difficulty watching that.
Some of this I put down to my age. Being part of the adolescent age
group "the Wall" was initially targeted at. So, regarding objectivity and
so forth, be forewarned! This album is shrouded in adolescent memories
so criticism may not be entirely rational. Personally, I don't have a problem
with that.
What I do have a bit of a problem with is admitting I was taken in
by something as flashy and manipulative.
Until now I've always tended to consider the album qualities as mutually
exclusive: it's either a "Schizophrenic album" or "a cold commercial calculation".
It's the old argument that opposes "Art" from "commerce". Fairly limited
as far as "The Wall" is concerned. Not too useful when dealing with Rock'n'Roll
at large, either.
"The Wall" is probably both. Something deeply personal and moving a
well as a clever construct to attract adolescent identification. Of course,
to make something "deeply personal" is not necessarily to make art but
I do believe, though I may not be able to explain it eloquently, that the
Wall has several things going for it. On the one hand there's the primal
quality of it all. Its dealing with the pains of childhood, adolescence,
its treatment of trauma and of emotional and mental fragility. Then of
course there's the whole British context. There are several British cultural
markers there, the war years and a repressive educational system being
two of them, but the British thing goes further than that. In British fiction,
man is often a victim of an overbearing society. He doesn't make his own
fate, his fate is imposed upon him by the powers above him. There's something
of this in most British concept and concept-like albums: "SF Sorrow" (The
Pretty Things), "Tommy" (The Who), "Arthur" (The Kinks), "Odessey
and Oracle" (The Zombies). So although at the time of its release,
the punk explosion had changed rock music irrevocably, I still dare to
suggest that "The Wall" is an important album in its own particular way.
Schizophrenic artwork on the brink of insanity or cold commercial calculation ?
I believe that Roger Waters is sincere in what he goes into on this
double depressive disc. However, in 1979, he is a part of the rock “bourgeoisie”.
John Lydon (Johnny Rotten of Sex Pistols fame), in his autobiography tells
of surprising reactions from established rock musicians. Lots were shocked
that the Pistols dared to attack such respectable institutions as the Royal
family in their songs. Lydon describes a pub scene where the Pistols were
pelted by beer glasses thrown by fellow musicians! Was Waters one
of the sneering reactionaries who was so annoyed with the Pistols for insulting
the Queen? Did he lob any beer glasses at the unfortunate Pistols?
I mean, after all, this was the band that introduced marketing to the
rock business. Remember their hipgnosis logo, instantly recognisable, on
the "Dark side of the moon" l.p. thus creating a brand name for the band.
Remember the emphasis on sound quality, the aforementioned album being
the rock album with which people tested the capacities of their new stereo
systems.
So the Wall album is full of flash effects. Bob Ezrin (of Alice Cooper
fame) was the producer and obviously had some responsibility in the matter.
Playground noises, babies crying, a helicopter, a telephone conversation...this
was to be a record of grand proportions, but is it?
Masters of manipulation
I’m feeling silly so let’s draw a far-fetched comparison with the movies. The Floyd at this moment in time cannot be likened to the independent film makers. More like the Hollywood majors. So are they the Hitchcocks of the music industry, manipulating the listener with flash effects calculated to get a maximum response? Have they thrown in every trick in the book to make sure we’re all clinging to our seats, cringing with fear? And are we prepared to do it? This suspension of disbelief thing up to the point of going right into this whole concept thing and living it out with Roger Waters? Astonishingly, yes! The lowest of the lowest tricks: walking straight into something that is so painfully blatantly a commercial product (how many have they sold?) and willingly doing the suspension of disbelief thing.
Easy to identify
Yes, he makes it easy to identify. The main character is the tormented
artist type. The sensitive guy abused by the wickedness of a cruel, cruel
world...doesn’t it just make you want to weep? Paradoxically, in the same
way, the album seems torn (or ‘a perfect blend of’ depending on your ideals)
between genuine feeling and commercial panache. Waters chooses to make
the main character a rock star victim of his fame and the wicked, wicked
money makers of the music business. Is this the ultimate joke, did he grasp
the irony of it all?
The Hollywood movie industry, the Pink Floyd. And, funnily enough,
a movie was made of The Wall. By Alan Parker. What can we say about that?
The man who made four hundred ads before he made a film. A film so fitting
to the album: the lights, the colours, the production is as smooth and
overdone as on the record.
Dark Globe
The Syd Barrett connection. Syd
Barrett was the former leader of the band. The only real Barrett
record is the first (Piper at the Gates of Dawn). There's only one of his
songs on the next album (A saucerful of secrets). After that Barrett,
an acid victim, left the band and, after producing two
beautiful solo albums, gradually retreated into himself never to resurface
in the music business.
Now, the Barrett solo albums are wonderful works indeed. They can make
you uneasy, however, because they are the works of a man gradually becoming
unhinged. A man gradually moving into the fantasy world inside his mind.
Barrett wasn't staging anything. He wasn't faking anything either.
On "The Wall" however, the protagonist is on a self-destructive trip that
will end in his mental (at least) downfall.
O.K., so I'm not saying that you have to teeter on the brink of insanity
to make great art. I'm not even saying that great art can only be achieved
through suffering. All I'm saying is that Barrett
went through severe mental disturbances, whereas Roger Waters made a lot
of money out of telling the story of someone going through severe mental
disturbances.
But we can push this boat out further. On "The Wall", vocals are often
broken or strained, the voice forced to breaking point giving a "tormented"
impression. This is true of "Don't leave me now" for example, but also
of many other tracks. This was "lifted" from Syd: it happens on several
Syd Barrett tracks, notably on "Dark Globe"
on "The Madcap Laughs".
Of course, this is part of Barrett's
songs, his unique blend of composition. The off-kilter aspect of Barrett's
songs are part of their brilliance. Of course, on "The Wall" these vocal
qualities are just effects.
So there is evidence to the story of a band preying on a fallen genius to achieve superstardom.
However, although pilfering is a clear fact, ultimately the two things
are very different. They're in a different league entirely. Barrett
albums are one thing, late 70s Pink Floyd albums dominated by Roger
Waters another. Barrett's production gets him into that select club of
genius composers and visionnaries whereas Roger Waters' production is,
at best, "OK".
Still, there is "Another Brick in The Wall, Part II" which is certainly
one of my personal "anti-establishment" favourites (even though it's not
punk). Ok, so there's nothing really rebellious about it nowadays. It's
completely passed into the mainstream (if it hadn't at the time of its
release). But I choose to find there true vindictiveness and bile against
a patriarchal and overbearing State and repressive institution. And then
there's the little kiddies from Islington green school or whatever. You
can hear them thoroughly enjoying themselves, trying to sound tough, gleeful
at being allowed to sing those lyrics. Maybe not as good as the little
kiddies singing on the Cramps' "A date with Elvis", but near enough.