If one is looking at albums as the entirety of an album experience, rather than simply being a collection of good songs by an artist, Dark Side has to be way up at the top of any list. The tracks form a loose concept about the finite nature of human life and the distractions therein, touching on mental health as inspired by their erstwhile friend Syd Barrett. But not only that, the tracks are all linked to form an aural continuum across each side of the album, by effects and recorded snippets of conversations with the studio crew. Add to that the simple and iconic cover from Storm Thorgerson, and you have a solid package. And fortunately the tracks are all great as well.
To me this is probably the zenith of Floyd’s output, probably sharing the top spot with Wish You Were Here (the two albums form a loose diptych). The last time Pink Floyd appeared on this list was with their debut album, Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. The intervening output showed a stepwise approach to this style of music, with Saucerful of Secrets pretty much being a continuation of the Barrett-esque psychedelia, gradually getting edged out in favour of more accessible art rock through Atom Heart Mother and Meddle. By the time we land at Dark Side, the mix of vocals by Gilmour, Wright, and Waters are well established, as is Waters’ desire as a lyricist to tackle big topics.
Thus we get musings on mortality in Time, being advised to “breathe in the air, don’t be afraid to care” in the opening Breathe, the driving, panicked, instrumental On The Run (basically about being late for a flight, but indicative of the nature of modern life), with Side One ending with Clare Torry’s incredible vocal interpretation of the stages of grief that is The Great Gig In The Sky.
Side Two is more about the distractions – the pursuit of Money (“New car, caviar, daydream: think I’ll buy me a football team”) and artificial societal divisions in Us and Them. The closing tracks touch more on mental health, and could in some ways be the lead-in to Wish You Were Here, with lines like “If the band you’re in start playing different tunes” in Brain Damage suggesting musings on Syd Barrett that form a core for the next album. It also highlights the dichotomies that permeate the album – “the lunatics are on the grass” is not a drug reference, the sense is that “Keep Off The Grass” signs are rules that delineate society, that they prop up the implicit notion that wanting to walk on the grass is to deviate from the norm, that those in power believe that we’ve “got to keep the loonies on the path”.
I almost didn’t listen to this album – I played it so much some forty years ago that I can recall every bit of it from memory, much like Adrien Brody’s character in The Pianist. And partly, I didn’t want to revisit it with an older and more cynical/wordly mindset. But, actually, it’s still good. I said no filler – arguably the instrumental tracks, especially Any Colour You Like, don’t do much (On The Run, however, is fun bit of insanity), but the rest; still works.
And despite Gilmour’s guitar solos being a core Floyd ingredient, the long sustained high notes soaring aloft unlike the fast and twiddly work of most prior guitarists, the most valuable contributions to Dark Side probably come from saxophonist Dick Parry and the three backing singers – Lesley Duncan, Doris Troy, and Barry St John, especially on Us And Them and Total Eclipse. By using them to round out the sound (as well as Clare Torry, who got rather ripped off for her timeless contribution), the four Floyd boys made an album that was bigger than them, and like nothing else beforehand. And producer Alan Parsons deserves as much credit for this album as George Martin does for the final sound of Sergeant Pepper.
Sure, it could be said to touch on pretentiousness at times, but overall I think the concept is approached with such diligence that it strikes just the right balance, a rare thing indeed to achieve in art. And, as any fan of the album knows, “there is no dark side to the moon. As a matter of fact it’s all dark – it's the sun that makes it look light”. EMI studio doorman Gerry O’ Driscoll neatly summarising the dichotomy and paradox of light and shade that underlies the album.
Comments
Post a Comment