Last week was the fortieth anniversary of Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon. Yes, we are all that old. If you need me to tell you how good the album is, then there probably isn’t much I can do for you. Just go and listen to it. It’s streaming on their website, search YouTube, hell, steal it off bittorrent if you have to – they don’t need the money.
One of the many brilliant aspects of the album is the talking throughout various parts of the album, relating to the album’s themes. They set up a series of cards with questions on them and invited anyone who happened to be around the studio to answer them. Abbey Road doorman Gerry O’Driscoll provided many of pieces used, including the final statement about the dark side of the moon. As David Gilmour says in Classic Albums, it’s the people who aren’t used to being interviewed who come up with the goods. Wings happened to be recording at Abbey Road at the same time and all participated. Paul and Linda’s answers were too guarded but Henry McCullough made the final mix with the timeless comment, “I don’t know, I was really drunk at the time.”
One of the special trinkets that came with the Immersion edition was Roger Waters’ handwritten recreation of the questions asked. The first few questions were along the lines of “What is your favourite colour?” just to get people relaxed before getting to the relevant questions. I very much doubt any of my answers would have been used, but this is what they would have been.
Are you afraid of dying?
Yes, I am. I know it’s not cool on any level to admit it, but I am – partly because I don’t know what’s on the other side and partly because I don’t want to go before I’ve done everything I want to do. That’s in addition to natural self-preservation instincts. Nobody wants to die. Given the choice, I think we all want to avoid it.
When were you last violent?
Truly, I can’t remember the last time I was violent towards another person. I’ve always been against violence but I have to admit the primary reason I’m against violence is because I’m so bad at it. Being against violence would mean more if I were more able to utilise it should I choose to.
Embarrassingly enough, the last time I behaved violently was when someone had pissed me off on the phone and I took out my frustration by beating the arm of the couch with a cushion. I told you I was bad at violence but we all have violence in us – it’s just a question of how we express it.
Were you in the right?
Of course I was in the right but I would say that, wouldn’t I?
Do you ever think you are going mad?
Regularly – and beyond the usual, “I’m bonkers, me!” or “everyone’s mad,” thing that everyone does once in a while. I’ve always felt apart from whatever ‘normal’ is. Most of the time, I’m happy to embrace that but there are also moments when I don’t feel I have control of what my mind is doing and that is… uncomfortable.
Most of the time though, I see people who are allegedly sane and I don’t want a bar of it.
If no, why?
Well, perhaps thinking you’re mad might be the best indication of sanity.
What do you think of The Dark Side of the Moon?
Fookin’ great album man!
This documentary may not be under Eagle Rock’s Classic Albums banner, but every bit as good as any release in that excellent series. In parts, The Story of Wish You Were Here is just as much a tribute to Syd Barrett as the album itself it, but it focuses on how the rest of Pink Floyd related to Syd.
The film features new interviews with Roger Waters, David Gilmour and Nick Mason as well as excerpts from an interview with Richard Wright in 2001. Of as much interest as the band interviews are the additional people involved in the making of the album, including backing vocalist Vanetta Fields and recording engineer Brian Humphries, who reminds of how under-appreciated Richard Wright’s conclusion to Shine On You Crazy Diamond is. There is also an interview with music journalist Nick Kent, whose stinging review of the Pink Floyd gig at which they premiered Shine On You Crazy Diamond eventually spurred them to reassess their approach to following up The Dark Side of the Moon.
Roy Harper tells the story of he came to sing on Have a Cigar and mentions how it rankles not only that he sang on a hit single and everyone thought it was Roger, but also that wags keep calling out for it at his gigs.
Pink Floyd albums were all about the entire package though, so the film doesn’t just focus on the writing and recording of the music, but also features interviews with sleeve designer Storm Thorgerson, photographer Aubrey Powell and stuntman Ronnie Rondell, who is the burning man on the cover. The Wish You Were Here live shows marked the beginning of Pink Floyd’s collaborations with artist Gerald Scarfe, who talks about the animated films he created for the show.
Syd’s surprise visit to Abbey Road late in the recording of the album is discussed, but what it less well documented is the fact that Syd was persuaded to try making some new recordings at around the same time as Floyd were starting work on Wish You Were Here. A short snippet from these abandoned sessions is included in the film.
It’s unclear who commissioned this retrospective but by rights, this really should have been included with the Wish You Were Here box set, although that did have marbles and a scarf.
Extras are in the form of extended interviews and performances. Gilmour and Waters each play Wish You Were, with Gilmour layering both 12-string and lead. The interviews veer into more philosophical subjects than just the making of the album. Nick Mason makes a very interesting point that should have been in the main film, given the other theme of the album is the cynicism of the record industry, that if an album fails, then it’s the record company’s fault but if it succeeds, then it’s because of the artist.
While these five recent, Pink Floyd related concerts are all different shows from different people, it’s also fair to say that they all cover some very similar ground, and they all contain Shine On You Crazy Diamond and Comfortably Numb at least once. You’d have to be a pretty hardcore fan (hello!) to want them all, so if you were only to get one or two, which is the best?
Well, that would depend on which of their many facets attracts you most to Pink Floyd.
If it’s the “whoa, cool!” factor you’re after, then get Pulse. Nothing else comes close. Remember That Night is a distant second.
If it’s a moving experience and social commentary that’s your thing, then In the Flesh is the clear choice. Pulse, Remember That Night and Live in Gdańsk each have a couple of moments.
If you’re a guitar nerd, then you’re spoilt for choice. David Gilmour in Concert is an obvious choice if only for the Spare Digits feature, but Pulse features a few finger close-ups as well. Another interesting aspect of David Gilmour in Concert is that he picks up a Gretsch Duo Jet to play the world’s greatest guitar solo rather than his trademark Strat. In fact, In Concert is completely Stratless. You’ll be happy with any of the Gilmour shows, but don’t completely discount In the Flesh. What is lacks in David Gilmour, is makes up for in Andy Fairweather Low, Doyle Bramhall II and Snowy White. White is a bona fide Pink Floyd alumnus having played on the Animals tour and the original live shows of The Wall. Bramhall may be mostly playing Gilmour’s parts, but being a left-hander who plays a guitar set up for a right-hander, he is playing them upside-down and backwards.
If you want great surround sound, then In the Flesh and Pulse are your two best bets. Both were quadraphonic concerts to begin with and the surround mixes appear to match that. The Gilmour shows tend to make less use of the surround feature, although the 4-disc version of Live in Gdańsk does include the surround sound version of On an Island, which is excellent.
While on the subject of audio, both In the Flesh and David Gilmour in Concert feature stereo streams in 24-bit LPCM (uncompressed) audio. Pulse has the option of Dolby 5.1 at a higher than usually bitrate and the improvement is noticable. None of the concerts offer DTS.
Finally, if it’s value for money you’re after, both Pulse and Remember That Night have several hours of bonus features. If you’d like the option of just listening to the music, Live in Gdańsk is a live album that comes with a DVD and In the Flesh is available as a CD/DVD pack as well.
Oh, and if you’re epileptic, be careful of Pulse, Remember That Night and Live in Gdańsk.
The other way you might want to compare these shows is by the actual performances. As mentioned, they all cover a lot of the same ground and only David Gilmour in Concert and the odd bit of Remember That Night make any serious deviation from well known arrangements. Beyond that, the four different bands across these five DVDs all do a pretty good facsimile of each other.
The one Gilmour/Waters song that leaves a gaping hole where the other ought to be is of course, Comfortably Numb. Each of the eight (count ’em) versions across these deevs tries with varying success to fill that gap. There are those who really like the all-in harmonies of the 80s/90s Pink Floyd. I am not one of them – although I have to say that listening to it again, I disliked it less than when I first heard it on Delicate Sound of Thunder. Doyle Bramhall sings the Gilmour part competently on In the Flesh, but that’s all. At the end of the song, Doyle Bramhall and Snowy White share the solo. Doyle Bramhall is there to be David Gilmour and Snowy White is there to be Snowy White. The solo concludes with them playing in harmony with each other and sounds pretty special. The problem here is that it’s generally considered uncool for a lead guitarist to copy another’s licks (nor should players of White and Bramhall’s stature be expected to), but how do you improve on perfection? They’re damned if they do and damned if they don’t. Of Gilmour’s solo versions, the guest vocals of Robert Wyatt and Bob Geldof sound like they should be great, but they’re not. Geldof in particular just phones it in. Richard Wright’s fragile vocals on Water’s part are a pretty good but for me, the best version comes from David Bowie on Remember That Night. I put this down to the fact that, more than all the others, Bowie understands Waters’ ideas about rock shows as theatre.
Although not completely idle through the 90s, Roger Waters was mostly invisible after the release of Amused to Death, with most of that time spent working on Ca Ira. Then in 1999, without anything to promote, he quietly began touring again. In the Flesh is taken from the 2000 North American tour, filmed in Portland.
These were relatively low budget and low key shows. The stage didn’t even feature video screens, instead using simple projections to illustrate the songs.
The show begins, appropriately enough with In The Flesh, with Waters standing aloof from the band on a riser behind the drum kit. This would have been awful if it had continued that way but he comes down to join the rest of the band after the opening number and from that point on, Waters really does tear down the wall. In the sleeve-notes of the accompanying album, Waters says that he wanted to reconnect with his audience in a way that he hadn’t attempted since the pre-Dark Side days and he achieves this admirably.
The setlist is predominantly arranged by album. With the exception of the finale of Brain Damage/Eclipse and Comfortably Numb, songs from each album are played together, if not in the original album order. It’s not a greatest hits show either. There are two selections from The Final Cut, the entire first side of Animals and most of Wish You Were Here. Solo material is saved for the second half of the show including a long and powerful selection from Amused to Death. The encore is a new song, exclusive to this set, called Each Small Candle.
This arena show is about as intimate as any Pink Floyd-related show has ever been and is ever likely to be. No flying pigs or exploding fighters here. This is not to say that there isn’t some sense of theatre to the show but for the most part, the music is allowed to stand alone. In the Flesh may be a rather obvious title for this concert, but it’s also most apt.
Extras are a 17-minute fly on the wall documentary or rehearsals and tour preparation, a photo gallery and band biographies.
The third and final volume of the expanded editions of The Best Pink Floyd Albums Ever is, I’m sorry to say, a bit of a letdown. It pains me to say this because The Wall was one of the first albums that made me realise that someone else gets it. The remastering job is superb with beautiful clarity but in contrast to the other Immersion editions, this feels hastily put together to meet a release schedule.
Discs three and four in the boxed edition are Is There Anybody Out There – the live version of The Wall recorded from performances in 1980 and 1981, which has been available on CD since 2000. It’s hard to imagine anyone considering this edition not having that album already. What’s missing from this version are the excellent sleeve notes from the original 2000 edition, even though there was plenty of room in this package for them.
And so to the previously unavailable material which makes up discs five and six. These are the demo version of The Wall, including Roger Waters’ original home demos. The demo discs are broken up into seven “programmes.” James Guthrie’s sleeve notes (printed on the cardboard disc sleeves – seriously people, you couldn’t spare one page in the two picture books for some sleeve notes?) explain that this sequencing is to represent both the separate sessions and the different track sequences that were experimented with during recording.
The first programme Roger’s initial demos which Nick Mason once described as “unlistenable.” (One can only assume he hadn’t heard Ummagumma recently.) They have been edited down to highlights, which does make sense but some of the songs are so heavily edited that you start to think you’re listening to The Wall megamix. There are then five programmes of band demos, sometimes interspersed with Waters’ demos and disc six concludes with David Gilmour’s home demos of Comfortably Numb and Run Like Hell.
Although fascinating in places, the demo discs don’t reward repeated listening. Not that they ought to or course – they were never intended for public consumption. Some of the highlights include,
The first band demo of Another Brick in the Wall, (disc 5, track 24) which baits the audience with lines like, “We don’t need your adulation,” and, “you should have seen them in the early days.”
Teacher Teacher – a song that would eventually evolve into The Hero’s Return on The Final Cut, and presents a much more sympathetic view of the teacher character. Both this early version and the one that was eventually released are written from the point of view of a returned soldier suffering what would now be called post traumatic stress disorder, who falls into teaching as a way of making ends meet.
Young Lust – same basic tune but effectively a completely different song to what was eventually used on the album.
Sexual Revolution – eventually included on Waters’ solo album The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking, which was written at the same time as The Wall.
The Doctor (Comfortably Numb) (disc 6, track 5) – There was clearly work to do on Comfortably Numb, and every change they made was the right decision, but this does reveal that The World’s Greatest Guitar Solo (it just is, okay?) was well on the way to being fully formed even in the first rehearsals.
The single disc of demos included on the “experience edition” is culled from the best of these two discs, so that makes the medium-sized version far more attractive to those who want to hear how The Wall took shape but don’t fancy spending $100 or more.
That just leaves us with the DVD, the main portion of which is the documentary Behind The Wall, which was made in 2000 around the same time as the release of Is There Anybody Out There? Although not new, it is previously unavailable on DVD. Also included on the DVD are a previously unreleased interview with designer Gerald Scarfe from 1982, a restored version of the video clip for Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2, and a live version of The Happiest Days of Our Lives from Earls Court in 1980 which lasts all of 82 seconds.
The problem with this box set is that there’s so much that we know is missing. For a start, there’s the film. It’s been available on DVD since 1999 and again, while it’s fair to assume that anyone who wants this box set already has the DVD, but if this is the Immersion Edition, then let’s do it properly. Hi-def Blu-ray perhaps? Nup! The documentary reminds us that The Wall was devised as an album, a show and a film all at the same time, yet while we know there is complete film of The Wall concerts, only an insultingly small amount of it is included. Many have already complained about the lack of a 5.1 mix. Engineer James Guthrie has said that a surround mix is in the pipeline and its eventual SACD release will immediately make this edition less than definitive. Even so, the music for the film was remixed in 5.1. And what about the album of music from the film that was mooted in 1982 but never eventuated?
In fairness, there are probably various legal reasons why some of these could not have been added. For a start, the film of The Wall is owned by Sony, not EMI and many of the copyrights relating to The Wall are owned by Roger Waters personally rather than Pink Floyd as a group. Be that as it may, the release should have been held over until they could have made it a true immersion edition. The cover is bloody awful too. Storm Thorgerson is brilliant and Gerald Scarfe is brilliant but they do not exactly share a creative vision. They should have stuck with Scarfe’s minimalist original, but if they couldn’t do that, any page of the Thorgerson-designed book would have made a better cover than this pointless collage.
It contains all the trinkets that are included in the other Immersion editions but in terms of actual content, what we get for paying anywhere between three and five times the price of the experience edition is a second disc of demos and an hour long documentary. Not even close to the magnificent standard set by the Dark Side of the Moon box.
Worth paying extra for?
Sadly, no.
Comfortably Numb - initial 1985 CD release
Comfortably Numb - from the Shine On box set, 1992
Comfortably Numb - 1994 remaster
Comfortably Numb - 2011 remaster
Comfortably Numb - from Is There Anybody Out There? 2000 remaster
Comfortably Numb - from Is There Anybody Out There? 2011 remaster
Another Brick in the Wall - from Pink Floyd The Wall DVD, 1999
Let me say from the outset that this is not about 80s nostalgia. I have no time for it. I was there the first time and they were crap – and crap isn’t any less crap just because it’s nostalgic crap. In fact, seeing the 80s revised into some kind of golden ages gives me a slight idea about what it might have been like to grow up in the 1960s – pop culture has conspired to suppress all the crap so they end up looking much better than they were.
Of all the things we remember the 80s for – big hair, loud colours, new romantics, ra-ra skirts, stone-wash denim, poodle metal, superstrats – one that never gets mentioned is the phenomenon of 12-inch singles. As mentioned on one of the records below, a 12-inch single was just like a 7-inch single, only bigger – and longer. Although the format began in the 70s along with disco, and continued into the 90s before going the same way as the 7-inch single for the same reason, by the mid-80s, any single with an outside chance of charting was also released as a 12-inch and often with an extended remix.
It was not a remix as we interpret the word today. In fact, on most extended versions, the mix (that is, the balance of instruments and vocal parts and their placement in the stereo picture) was exactly the same as the regular version. In these cases, a better description would have been Extended Edit, or in some cases, Unedited Version.
There were many ways artists and/or producers made songs longer for the larger format. Sometimes they were the full length version of the recording before it was edited down for released. Sometimes they had extra parts added. Sometimes they just let the song play out. If you can get hold of the 12” of World Party’s Ship Of Fools, the extended version is created by not fading out until two minutes later, giving the listener a rare glimpse into what happens after the fade. Dire Straits’ Money For Nothing didn’t need extending because the album version goes for 8 minutes anyway.
A common method of creating a 12-inch mix was a simple cut-and-paste job. Firstly, play the intro twice. If you can’t resolve the intro musically in order to play it again, it doesn’t matter – just stop at the end of the intro, throw in some S-S-S-sampled B-B-B-beats and start again. Next, play the first verse without the vocal. Do the same with the chorus if you feel like, then start with the first verse proper. If there’s a middle-8, play an instrumental copy of it before the second verse. If there’s a guitar solo or other instrumental part, double the length. Then repeat the final chorus with lashing of gratuitous delay and Bob’s yer uncle! You’ve got yourself a 12-inch extended version.
12-inch singles also had a fascinating mystique to a young collector. They were never played on the radio, not included on compilations and certainly not available on cassette. The only way to hear the extended version was to buy the record.
I had wondered whether to include these examples in the order they were released or in the order that I discovered them. In the end, I went with a bit of both.
Tina Turner: We Don’t Need Another Hero
This is the first 12-inch single I bought. The main reason was because I had just received a turntable for Christmas and this was the song I liked most in the 12-inch rack at my local record store.
It’s a bit of a tease as extended versions go. It’s exactly the same as the regular version up until about two thirds of the way through. The song is from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, so composer/producer Terry Britten’s sense of drama may have had something to do with how the 12-inch version was arranged.
Thompson Twins: King for a Day
I bought this a week later and it was the first 12-inch of a song that I really wanted to have the 12-inch of. Yes, it’s the Thompson Twins, of Hold Me Now – what’s your point? Despite looking very mockable, they had some really nice songs and don’t forget this record was produced by the great Nile Rodgers.
It’s a particularly long version that in part follows the standard method mentioned above but also features some actual different mixes in parts and still doesn’t outstay its welcome.
Mike Oldfield: To France
This was the first time I had heard this song, but I would buy anything with Mike Oldfield’s name on it, so at first it was hard to where it has been extended. Even without comparing it to the album version, it’s pretty clear now that an additional instrumental section has been edited in just before the end of the song.
Marillion: Market Square Heroes
I had never heard anything of Marillion before this, but the record was calling to me. This is actually the B-side of Punch and Judy and I truly don’t know if that’s an extended version. I suspect probably not. Truthfully, the reason I bought this is… well, just look at it! How cool is it? Fortunately, the song isn’t bad either.
Paul McCartney: No More Lonely Nights
This is where it all came together - Paul McCartney and an extended mix and a picture disc. I was holding out hope when I bought this that it would be the ballad version of No More Lonely Nights, which is not only one of the greatest ever Paul McCartney love songs but also one of the greatest ever David Gilmour guitar solos. Ah, but no such luck – it’s the playout version, which closed his forgettable film Give My Regards to Broad Street. It might be just as well. Doing an extended version of the ballad would be like trying to improve on perfection.
There were actually two extended mixes of this track. This one was released in the UK and I actually like it better than the more collectable Arthur Baker mix released in the US.
Tears For Fears: Everybody Wants to Rule the World
Probably a good example of an obligatory extended edit, although the bassline at the beginning does sound rather similar to Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel, which was still two years away. The full guitar solo is used until the recording appears to peter out and starts again for the final chorus and a repeat of the first part of the solo, which is faded early.
Prince and the Revolution: Raspberry Beret
This “new mix” starts out with the same intro that is used on the official video but not used in the album or single version. As the song nears conclusion, it repeats the minor key variation used in the intro (complete with cough) and finishes up just noodling around. It seems like he started with an interesting idea but didn’t know where to take it.
Cliff Richard and The Young Ones: Living Doll
In 1986, even a novelty charity record had an extended 12-inch (ooh-err!) and the fact is lampooned in the extended portion of the song. There are also skits at the beginning and end that weren’t on the 7-inch version.
Genesis: Invisible Touch
Um, I have no explanation for this one. I was young and curious. Don’t judge.
Men At Work: Down Under
Not released alongside the initial 1981 single, but remixed for a 1986 best-of album. I believe this is the version that was included on that compilation as well. In terms of the mix itself, there are some subtle differences, with Colin Hay singing the beginning of the final chorus solo. As an extended edit though, it’s awful.
Icehouse: Crazy (Mad Mix)
At which point, we begin naming the remixes, preferably along the same theme as the song. Rather than follow the same old formula, Iva Davies completely reconstructs the song in a genuine remix and re-edit. We also discover that the guitar solo which is cut down to a middle-8 on the album/single version actually goes for a whole verse and more as originally recorded. This mix takes an already bombastic song and cranks the dramatics up well beyond 11. It’s all utterly mad but then, that is what it says on the label.
The B-side features the rather lovely Midnight Mix, which does away with the rhythm section altogether and suddenly it’s become a song of seduction – which goes to show how important mixing can be.
George Michael: I Want Your Sex (Monogamy Mix)
Now this is creative! I Want Your Sex was a controversy-baiting single dressed up as a safe sex message. As nookie songs go, it’s exactly mid-way between Barry White and Salt’n’Pepa. However, if this record had finished at the 5-minute mark, it would still have fulfilled all the requirements of a 12-inch. Instead, it’s presented in three sections – Rhythm 1: Lust, Rhythm 2: Brass in Love, Rhythm 3: A Last Request. As I understand it (I haven’t heard the album), the first two sections follow the album arrangement, with the final section (also on the album but not in the same order) turns it into a 13-minute epic.
I was fascinated by the idea of three sections looking at the cover in the record shop, but couldn’t come at actually buying a George Michael record. I picked this up at a market many years later. Listen without prejudice.
Roger Waters: Radio Waves
The Radio KAOS album is regarded as a bit of a mistake by most which is quite unfair. Waters’ intention was to make a straightforward rock and roll album and naturally threw in some apocalyptic fear and a message of redemption for good measure. In fact, the album’s other theme of corporate dominance and dedication to all those who find themselves at the violent end of monetarism are more relevant than ever.
Appropriately for the musical objective of the album, an extended version of the lead single was released. It’s a fairly formulaic mix, but interesting coming from an artist like Waters.
George Harrison: When We Was Fab
George’s wonderfully dry sense of humour was all over this record. The A-side is clearly labelled “unextended version,” but the B-side featured the “reverse ending,” where the song plays all the way through to the end, and then comes back playing backwards!
Paul McCartney: Once Upon a Long Ago
A good example of an extended version being a less edited version than the single release. An additional intro is tacked on at the front, but most of this version is the song in its entirety with an ad-libbed repeat of the first verse at the end and full length solos. The extended string note right at the end is a nice touch. A beautiful and underrated song.
Travelling Wilburys: End of the Line
Even a band of five traditionalists like the Travelling Wilburys couldn’t avoid the obligatory 12-inch mix, and this mix is exactly what you would expect when fulfilling obligations.
Paul McCartney: Figure of Eight
This is a rare example of a 12-inch single which features a completely different recording to the album version. While not listed as an extended version, this live-in-the-studio take is longer than the album version and much closer to the arrangement that opened Paul’s live shows at the time.
Billy Bragg: Sexuality (Manchester Mix)
It may just be coincidence, but naming the mixes after the cities they were done in (the B-side features the London Mix) looks like it may be a tribute to The Smiths, who named the three versions of This Charming Man Manchester, London and New York. The latter was pulled almost as soon as it was released and never heard again until included on The Sound of The Smiths.
The Manchester Mix of Sexuality was mixed by Owen Morris, who would later produce Oasis. This is both extended version and true remix, with Johnny Marr’s guitar pushed to the front of the mix. What more could you ask for?
The Cure: High
Curiously enough, I did actually hear this version for the first time on the radio and that’s what made me buy it because I’m not really a Cure fan. This is both an extended edit and a remix and I think this mix is far superior to the album version. As smitten as that!
Are you afraid of dying?
