The Machine, Westbury Music Fair, October 31, 2010

I was treated to the music of Pink Floyd from Spider-Man, Nurse-Man, Karate-Man and Monster-Man for three or so hours. Not much really to say other than that they continue to provide me with reasons to see them every year for their spot-on renditions of Floyd classics and obscure gems. "Wot's...Uh The Deal" was a surprise inclusion as was "Careful With That Axe, Eugene" to open the show. I also think it was ballsy to exclude songs like "Comfortably Numb," "One Of These Days," etc. But that's how great Floyd's music is -- you actually don't need to hear everything in order for it to be a great show. I wanted to hear "Comfortably Numb," but I'm not all that upset I didn't hear it. All in all, great show again. Thanks guys.

Setlist:

Careful With That Axe, Eugene
In The Flesh
The Thin Ice
Another Brick In The Wall, Part 1
The Happiest Days Of Our Lives
Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2
Speak To Me/Breathe
Time
Shine On You Crazy Diamond
Signs Of Life
Learning To Fly

Sheep
Welcome To The Machine
Wot's...Uh, The Deal
Keep Talking
Money
Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun
Wish You Were Here
Any Colour You Like
Brain Damage
Eclipse

Encore:
Waiting For The Worms
Stop!
The Trial
Outside The Wall

Roger Waters - The Wall Live - Nassau Coliseum - October 12, 2010

What could I possibly write that could somehow add to what I've already said a few days ago? Um ... I had better seats? I liked seeing it twice? Pigs are really underrated? A-

Roger Waters - The Wall Live - Madison Square Garden - October 6, 2010

Monstrous inflatable marionettes, a flying pig with party slogans, a flock of children singing something about education and wearing shirts bearing the message "Fear builds walls," the crash and din of music interspersed with babies and bombs and erratic television crackles, and a wall, so imperceptibly constructed steadily over the course of the album's tense first half that I here and now must raucously applaud whomever created the set design and those in the stage crew who seamlessly metastasized such a wonderful visual spectacle for me -- and everyone else, too. Yet the "bricks" in the wall were not just to physically isolate the band from the rest of the audience, but also to function as an enormous video screen (enormous being too understated, really) to showcase the various themes surrounding the album: animations of scenes from the film, photos of deceased military members from all wars, visuals of planes dropping bombs shaped as crucifixes, crescents and stars (which has garnered some controversy; Google it), as well as Shell and Mercedes logos and some good old-fashioned dollar signs. For those expecting Mr. Waters to sing like he was thirty years younger, he does, actually, on the screen from some footage of "Mother" from the 1980 tour; the current version sings along with him. Basically, go see this if you can. I am. Again. In five days. Try to not buy seats on the extreme left or right sides of whatever venue, and comfort yourself to the fact that, while this is not Pink Floyd, it's the closest thing you're going to get to see them ever again anyway. A- (the minus is for lack of Gilmour, the standard for anything involving Floyd).

The Machine, B.B. King's, October 30, 2009

Ok, I saw The Machine again. I just really love Floyd, don't I? It wasn't enough that I've reviewed all their albums here already, but a tribute band twice in a month surely certifies my addiction. So what was different the second time? The venue (bad food, lots of alcohol), the set of songs they played, and a saxophonist for "Crazy Diamond," "Money" and "Us And Them." Fucking tasty. Show started at nine on the dot and went until half past midnight with one brief fifteen minute break in the middle. What does that mean? Lots of songs -- even Syd Barrett's "Dark Globe." Oh, and "The Trial"? Spot on. See for yourself.

Setlist:
Speak To Me/Breathe
Time
Coming Back To Life
Shine On You Crazy Diamond
Welcome To The Machine
Keep Talking
One Of The Days
Sheep

Dark Globe
Money
Us And Them
Let There Be More Light
Have A Cigar
Echoes
Final Cut
Happiest Days Of Our Lives
Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2
Wish You Were Here
Comfortably Numb

Encore:

Waiting For The Worms
Stop!
The Trial
Outside The Wall

A-

The Machine, Westbury Music Fair, October 2, 2009

The Machine is a Pink Floyd tribute band I almost didn't see on Friday night. Blame it on a blown fuse and difficulties with finding electricians, but thankfully the show started -- even if almost two hours late. That said, the band promised no breaks and sampled mostly on the safe side of Floyd's immense catalogue. I was hoping they'd play whole albums like Animals and The Wall as they did at B.B. King's last month, but as someone there told me, drink a few beers, close your eyes and you won't know you're not listening to the real Pink Floyd. So that's what I did and I'm happy. My only problem was their choice to cater more to the average Floyd Fan by playing more of the well-known songs (i.e. from The Wall) and by feeling the need to sample from many of Floyd's albums (which meant mediocre or poor songs from The Division Bell and Momentary made the cut). I was fairly disappointed when they played "Echoes" -- yes, the "Echoes" -- and ended the song at about 17-18 minutes right before Gilmour's famous guitar line builds up. Good god, why? They played "Fat Old Sun" and that solo was awesome, Jeff. I'm trying to play it on my guitar today without much success. These guys are from New York and play here often, but I know they travel around, so if you get the chance to see them, it's worth it. The guitarist/vocalist does a pretty close Waters imitation and a passable Gilmour.

Setlist:

Shine On You Crazy Diamond
Welcome To The Machine
Coming Back To Life
Speak To Me/Breathe
Time
Sorrow
Fat Old Sun
Is There Anybody Out There?
Nobody Home
One Of These Days
Pigs On The Wing
Pigs (Three Different Ones)
Echoes
Hey You
Wish You Were Here

Encore:
Run Like Hell
Comfortably Numb

B+

Pink Floyd - The Wall (1979)

So you knew I would leave this one for last. Master Cianan is certain to be verily pleased that, indeed, there will be no more Floyd albums. So here we go. The Wall, as Bob has said, is rotten; but not in a musical sense. It's rotten in its megalomania, its bitterness, its complete and utter soullessness. In a way earlier alluded to on "Welcome To The Machine," Waters himself had become increasingly distant from his audience -- hence, his Wall. And as one would expect, the music itself is a kind of detached emptiness. Rotten? Thematically, yes. But that's the point. This is no longer the Oberon Miranda and Titania of yore where one of these days I'm going to cut you into little pieces pieces even if I still need a damned Leer jet to seek shelter from pigs on the wing. This is pure technical musical execution done in the strictest sense; and that is precisely why Floyd is wonderful -- they have transformed their entire career: "Lucifer Sam," "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast," "Echoes," "Time," "Sheep," "Shine On You Crazy Diamond," "Run Like Hell," & etc. The music changed, the themes changed, they changed; and yet, they still sound like Pink Floyd, no matter what album it is. From the crazy days of psychedelia to the epic virtuosity of their golden years to this album, where there is nothingness. Syd is gone; they can't fucking stand each other, and they will soon cease to be, despite subsequent albums.

Furthermore, this is a double album. Such ambition always comes crashing down. Such ambition cannot be sustained. Such ambition is nothing more than wish-fulfillment of hubris. But yet, tell me, other than this album and maybe London Calling, what double album really strides from start to finish? The bloated Tommy opera? Charles Manson's Nightcap? It's simply criminal to not listen to this in its entirety, double album or not. Sure, everyone's heard "Comfortably Numb," "Run Like Hell," "Another Brick In The Wall," "Hey You," etc. a million or so times -- but, no excuses. Secondly, you must be coked the fuck out if Gilmour's guitar work doesn't make you want to run around jumping oh lordy and whammer jammering on your air guitar, especially to his immaculate solos on "Comfortably Numb." Thirdly, this is it. Don't go out and find The Final Cut and think there's more to come; this is it, the proverbial 'hitting a brick wall.' So go out, have a listen or forty, remember not to shit where you eat, and don't listen to Bob, ever. A

Pink Floyd - The Division Bell (1994)

Just when you thought Momentary was a one-off we've-got-to-do-something-without-Roger album, nearly seven years later our fading heroes produce this, The Division Bell. Sure, it's wicked tasty when compared to Momentary -- but, too little, too late. The glimmers of old Floyd appear primarily on the last five tracks (the only ones I will admit to liking) and mostly because of Gilmour's vocals and guitar. But the child is grown, the dream is gone. The band has seen better days. The house is gone and fade away. Fortunately, everything post-Wall doesn't damage anything for me. These guys were amazing, and are every time I listen to them. And tell me, about whom was Gilmour alluding to when he sings, "So I open my door to my enemies / And ask could we wipe the slate clean / But they tell me to please go and fuck myself / You know, you just can't win." C-

Pink Floyd - A Saucerful Of Secrets (1968)

This is the unfortunate successor of Piper -- unfortunate in that Syd is a half-entity and it seems the madness could only be harnessed by him. Like all early Floyd albums, though, A Saucerful Of Secrets is yet another stepping stone the band would eventually use to reach greater musical heights. It starts off promising enough with "Let There Be More Light," a back and forth interplay of loud and soft mingling psychedelia on an epic scale. Then, omigawd, "Remember A Day" happens. And can you remember a day when Pink Floyd didn't sound original -- which is to say, like Pink Floyd? This sounds like a bloody Moody Blues song, and while I still like it, I think I like it only because I also sometimes like the Moody Blues. "Corporal Clegg?" Fucking brilliant. I love the dissonant contrasts and and especially the triumphant kazoo passages. "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun," like the live version on Ummagumma, is just awful. Ditto for "Saucerful Of Secrets," also known as "Drugged Drumming 101" -- awful as well. "See-saw" is just pure up and down, which may be fitting, but I still don't like it. "Jugband Blues," our official farewell to Syd's time in Floyd, is pure bonkers. I love it. It's awfully considerate. Especially that brief descent into horn chaos. C+

Pink Floyd - More (1969)

My sincere apologies , oh darling readers, for my having erred. I thought Obscured By Clouds was a proper Pink Floyd release, and not a soundtrack. You could have fooled me -- it doesn't change my opinion of it one bit; I reviewed it as an album as such. Which is how More is to be treated as well, at which it fares far more poorly. This is not to say More is horrible, but that is decidedly average. "Cirrus Minor" starts off decently, I suppose. It's neither innovative nor boring -- just pleasant enough. "The Nile Song" is a traditional rocker -- which is kind of interesting because when do you ever hear a traditional Floyd song? "Crying Song" is soft and subdued; "Up The Khyber" is a staccato piano and organ piece, and it continues on as such, with the exception of "Cymbaline," the album's standout track. Yeah, classic Floyd. "Ibiza Bar" is another rocker and pretty much at track ten is where I become annoyed: bluesy rambling ("More Blues"), noise ("Quicksilver"), more chaotic noise and stupidity ("A Spanish Piece") and a kind of reprise ("Dramatic Theme") of the "Main Theme." It's a soundtrack, for sure; and while it may sound wonderful as a soundtrack in a film (I wouldn't know; I haven't seen it), it's merely mediocre by itself. And that's why it's a C. The intent with More, it seems, was to create music for a film, whereas it seems Obscured was made as an album and happened to be used as a soundtrack for a film.

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here (1975)

Sometimes, usually right after a fresh listen, Wish You Were Here is my favorite album instead of Dark Side Of The Moon. But mostly, uh, no. Rank notwithstanding, this is an amazing album. To think that this had perverse expectations following Dark Side and nearly equals it is almost unthinkable. I mean, who does that? Funny thing is, it doesn't build upon Dark Side musically at all; it's all its own singularity. In fact, it's the only Pink Floyd album that I would call timeless simply because I don't think you can peg it down, whereas all their others you can almost trace their development with your pick. Perhaps it's because this album is the most human of their albums, the most personal. Sure, The Wall was personal -- for Roger Waters; but this is a communal offering -- a poignant and elegantly executed tribute to Syd Barrett.

"Wish You Were Here" has possibly been played with more frequency on a daily basis than the national anthem, and people could probably sing you all the lyrics (sans music) before they could rattle off the Ten Commandments. Still, this doesn't take away from the fact that it's the cornerstone track, a final lament for a good friend long gone. By themselves, each song on the album is powerful, a panoply of different styles; and yet as a whole -- which is how any album, good or bad, should be listened to -- it's just pure aural awesomeness. The "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" bookends are solemn odes to the man that was Syd. "Welcome To The Machine" and "Have A Cigar" are fitting portraits of a band sullying theirs hands with record company filth after they've made it big -- which is to say, after the success of Dark Side. What I really like is the juxtaposition of these two tracks smack dab in the middle. It's as though, in a way, they lost that part of themselves -- that frenetic childish spirit embodied by Syd -- and became international megastars. Sure, it didn't completely destroy them, but there is still that sense of loss, and of mourning, and remembrance -- hence the return to Syd in the last two tracks. That's my feeling anyway. This album truly has to be felt, I think. All in all, I want to be buried with it. A+

Pink Floyd - Ummagumma (1969)

If Atom Heart Mother is a bunch of psychedelic waffling, Ummagumma is undoubtedly its mother. Fortunately for us, the first disc of live material that reflects such sentiment does not continue to the second disc, where the real meat and matters are. Besides a great live version of "Astronomy Domine," the rest of disc one is just pure Grade A distilled psychobabble. Dreck. Drivel. Dross. DRUGS. Disc two is immensely better. There we are treated to three separate suites, a walk through some Grantchester meadows and the unorthodox frontispiece that happens to be in the middle, "Several Species Of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together In A Cave And Grooving With A Pict," which, etymologically speaking, might have something to do with Ummagumma -- not that I would know, though. It's a fucking highlight, that's for sure, in ways that are impossible to describe. "The Narrow Way" suite is possibly the closest thing people who generally like Floyd will latch onto and like, besides "Grantchester Meadows", simply for its resemblance to their later musical output. This is not to say it's homogenized and contrived -- because later Floyd is good, but comparably to the rest of the album's quirkiness, it's quite tame. The "Sysphus" suite is quite erratic in a good way, but completely train-wrecks in the fourth part. Strange, too, how Sysphus plays into this whole Ummagumma theme. Hmmm, think they're trying to say something to us? The second part of the "The Grand Vizier" suite precedes "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast" -- it sucks. Sure, parts one and three are good, but they span a combined 1:41. Otherwise, I suggest a few good listens, but this is more or less a kind of necessary bridge in their development from Piper to Meddle. B

Pink Floyd - The Final Cut (1983)

Having just reviewed A Momentary Lapse Of Reason, The Final Cut is a bit appropriate, I think, in the whole scheme of things Floydian. First off, the album says it all: The Final Cut (A Requiem For The Post War Dream): by Roger Waters; performed by Pink Floyd. I mean, he may as well have made it: Roger Waters, former Arrogant Egghead of Pink Floyd, and his scourged Mind, all things Considerate, being therein on Display, Post War Hootstuffs & etc., featuring sometimes the "Comfortably Numb" Guitar Player. Granted I think Waters was great prior to this; but this is otherwise just absolute dross. I do think the first four songs, ending with "The Hero's Return" are actually pretty good, and hearing Gilmour sing "fuck all that" with gospel-like accompaniment in "Not Now John" is kind of amusing; but otherwise, this album consists primarily of the butt-scrapings of The Wall, minus the music. It's the Roger Waters show at full tilt, except he wasted his equity building a fence -- er, wall -- at his other residence, and here he's just careening by on bad credit in some horrible memorial home. "Boom boom, bang bang. Lie down you're dead." Like Momentary, listen only because you have to. D+

Pink Floyd - A Momentary Lapse Of Reason (1987)

My wife and I refer to this album as "Permanent Lapse Of Reason" because it seemeth as though our musical heroes began a torpid duration in a strait-jacket on methylphenidate and forgot to color outside the lines with crayons like they always did. Surely, Waters' departure had something to do with it, but we had already learned that these blokes just couldn't play nice anymore and that Waters had exhausted his creative faculties on The Wall as evidenced by his genuine lack of anything on The Final Cut. Good show, jolly rabbit! To be nice, this album is a fair representation of the other band members musical abilities. "On The Turning Away" is simply wonderful. To a lesser extent, "Learning To Fly" seems like it was a great song, but they kept working on it to become a hit and so it goes that it's not as good. Icky ick. "Dogs Of War?" Yuck. All this album proves, with the FInal Cut as its companion piece, is that Roger and David needed each other to make amazing music; this is just David's solo album, and apparently he tried to top Waters' shitty post-war dream with this syphilitic ick. This is just blahhhhhhhhhh. You guys are my favorite band -- how could you do this to me ? D+

Pink Floyd - Atom Heart Mother (1970)

Like Obscured By Clouds, Atom Heart Mother is in the unenviable position of being sandwiched between two better albums -- in this case, Ummagumma and Meddle, respectively. Consisting of five songs, the last of which spans an interminable 13 odious minutes of your life, Atom Heart Mother is not for the easy-eared. First things first, "If" is an endearing little song -- not very inspiring -- but still very good. "Fat Old Sun" is nice and contains a vintage Gilmour solo -- which is to say, amazing; and "Summer '68" is my favorite piece on the album, despite the fact that you'd lose a bet over its authenticity as Pink Floyd; it simply doesn't sound like them. This brings us to the bookends, "Atom Heart Mother" and "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast" -- two mental flights to Mars via a hallucinatory conduit. "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast" is really awful stuff. The absolute udder of the psychedelic scene. Colorful trash, as it were. Or maybe it's de rigueur; what do I know? Listen to it at your own peril. Jeff has a much favorable review for those interested. B-

Pink Floyd - Obscured By Clouds (1972)

Obscured By Clouds is the bastard birthed out of wedlock, the prodigious and stalwart second son secondarily subservient to the grand airs of a more successful first sibling. Meddle was great. Dark Side Of The Moon? Best album ever. So it's easy to forget that Obscured even existed, let alone deserved any kind of consideration. Perhaps "Obscured By Clouds," "When You're In" and "Burning Bridges" -- the album's first three scapegoats are to blame. Do I enjoy them? Yes, but can I cite their chord structures on threat of no more Guinness? Not a chance. 'Tis a shame, methinks, because "The Gold It's In The," "Wot's...Uh The Deal," "Mudmen," Childhood's End" and "Free Four" are incredibly meaty, atypical Floydian compositions. Hell, even if you think me a sometimes hack, a sometimes Viennese Quack -- fuck you, Freud! -- please at least listen to tracks 4-8 -- you won't be disappointed. "Stay" is decent enough and "Absolutely Curtains," the album's closer, seems to halt the album to a fairly tepid, bordering-on-miserable close; but all in all, a solid record deserving of placement in the Floydian pantheon. Oh, and as with Meddle, the guitar work is tasty as usual. B+

Pink Floyd - Piper At The Gates Of Dawn (1967)

Pure madness. How did such an album come to be? Drugs? Most definitely. Zeitgeist? Okay, sure. Syd Barrett? Check. Aurally intoxicating, at times embarrassingly weird, Piper is Floyd's proverbial fist in the face of all music hitherto heretofore. Is it absolutely brilliant? Sometimes. Does it seem positively wretched? Oh yes. But unlike my necessary condemnation of Trout Mask Replica, Piper is far more rewarding in its awkward abundance. "Astronomy Domine?" Delicious. "Lucifer Sam?" Pernicious. "The Gnome?" Who the fuck writes songs about gnomes? The revolting barrage of random cacophony in "Bike?" Genius. And stupid. At the same time. Never has an album (despite my lack of existence in 1967) seemed so perversely fresh. Best ever? Hardly. Important? If I am to conjure up Master Cianan for a moment and his sincere loathing of labeling any album "important," I would say, as I always do, in retort, "Yes! It's important to me!" Just maybe not to you. Rub some oil on your bald soprano. This is the Mad Hatter, over and out. B

Pink Floyd - Meddle (1971)

This is for you, Bob. Meddle, по моему, is perhaps Floyd's transition point between the trippy, not altogether focused and sometimes rambling psychedelia of their first few albums, and the tightly wound musical virtuosity that came to fruition on Dark Side Of The Moon. Simply, it's got a touch of everything, the focal point being the otherworldly "Echoes" -- which is clearly one of the best musical statements of that era. (It sounds even better live.) An ethereal quality, let's call it, seems to permeate the entire album. "Echoes," even at its almost 24 minute length, has this fleeting, pulling away kind of quality despite some incredibly moving and powerful passages. "One Of These Days" is menacing; "Pillow Of Winds" dreamy; "Fearless" like an inevitable marching forward feel; "San Tropez" is a beer in the breeze and a nice bit of sun on your face. All very moody, impressionistic type stuff going on here, but not simply drug music -- stuff you need an amy under your nose for. No, no, this is the kind of music that makes you remember a band named Pink Floyd and not the other numberless psychedelic outfits from that time; they're simply too creative and skilled as musicians to forget them.

"Seamus" for me is one of the worst songs I've ever heard in my life. Pure fucking vulgarity and nonsense. A nasty black blot on an otherwise perfectly written work of a master scrivener. Thankfully it's short and thankfully "Echoes" accounts for half the album. Seriously, folks, if Floyd to you is "Comfortably Numb" and "Wish You Were Here", you are missing out. Dark Side Of The Moon, besides being the greatest album ever, is not the starting point for these fellows. Piper has its merits and flaws; Ummagumma is responsible for some quite exotic divergences in opinion and the poor forgotten Obscured By Clouds, nestled squarely before Dark Side and after Meddle, is quite solid as well. But Meddle is crucial in the band's own catalogue and it should be for you too. No, you don't need to get their soundtrack More like me, but this will still do nicely. Man, and listen to "Echoes" if you haven't already. The guitar is SUPER FUCKING TASTY. A-

Pink Floyd - Dark Side Of The Moon (1973)

I'm considerably aghast at how little I have to say of this album. As I've already professed in the beginning: Best. Album. Ever. Start to finish. Every ooh, every ahh, every timbre and shaft of light. The colours, the lyrics, the dazzling awesomeness of this wonderful little musical prism. It's all here on display, an aura for every ear, an emblem for every ember. A perfect synesthesia. The miraculous graying of forbidden light.

What's not to appreciate? You can choose any colour you like. If you've got no time, you can listen to it on the run. If you've got no money, speak to me; I'll lend you some. No sense waiting for an eclipse; just listen, and breathe. And don't fritter and waste about the Us and Them conflict -- they can keep their hitmebabyonemoretimes and iwantitthatways until they've suffered brain damage. We've got the greatest gig in the sky, circa 1973, always and forever. Besides, there's no dark side of the moon, really. As a matter of fact, it's all dark. A+ (I think I need a Leer jet.)

Pink Floyd - Animals (1977)

Pink Floyd is ubiquitous; the reasons of which are fairly obvious: Dark Side Of The Moon, Wish You Were Here and The Wall established enough of a fanbase to last an eternity; but what of the other records? If the aforementioned albums are considered the Golden Era of Pink Floyd, we must remember that Animals, released right before The Wall, is placed squarely in its midst. (Disclosure: Pink Floyd is my favorite band and I am unabashed in any kind of praise I will undoubtedly bestow upon them.)

Drawing inspiration from Orwell's Animal Farm, the album's lyrical content revolves around a series of anthropomorphic depictions of pigs, sheep and dogs in a not-so-favorable manner. Lyrics notwithstanding (even though I think they're great), the music is amazing. The album's bookends, two short pieces entitled "Pigs On The Wing (Part One) and "Pigs On The Wing (Part Two)", are interesting insofar as they're almost identical except for the tone they impart. Part One is more introductory and matter-of-fact, whereas Part Two is darker and more sarcastic in tone. The album's set-pieces, though, are where the greatness begins. "Dogs" is a monstrous 17-minute mini-epic replete with blistering acoustics and even dog howls; it's like an overly focused and possibly too-structured band jam except that it paints bleak caricatures of businessmen. "Pigs (Three Different Ones) is a politically scathing ode to, I suspect, some specific individuals, one of whom is named Whitehouse (my British politics in the 70s is not up to snuff, sorry). The song, as expected, also features a throng of pig noises. "Sheep" is my favorite track; a nasty romper of a song with some very delicious bass and an ever-present ominous sort of feeling -- as if wolves were encircling a poor little herd of sheep. The little sheep sermon is fantastic, especially the part where the sheep rise up against the dogs and threaten them with karate. Favorite line: "Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream. Wave upon wave of demented avengers march cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream." All in all, a very essential, very wonderful little long player that is as bleak and nasty as the animals it portrays. A