Book Review: Reinventing Pink Floyd: From Syd Barrett to The Dark Side of the Moon

For more than half a century Pink Floyd produced some of the most fabled and successful albums in popular music history yet the singular British band has nevertheless remained, at least in some respects, an enigma. 

Much of that enigma surrounds Syd Barrett, the Floyd’s principal songwriter and eccentric visionary behind the band’s earliest efforts. The music he created with Pink Floyd in the mid-to-late sixties—enriched by his distinctly puerile songwriting style and psychedelic eccentricities—contrasts so boldly from the music the Floyd made following his termination from the lineup in 1968 so as to sound like a different band altogether. Even still, Barrett’s legacy loomed over the band (bassist Roger Waters, keyboardist Richard Wright, drummer Nick Mason, and Barrett’s replacement, guitarist David Gilmour) for decades thereafter.

In Reinventing Pink Floyd: From Syd Barrett to The Dark Side of the Moon, author Bill Kopp reframes the band’s legendary oeuvre by surveying those earliest efforts to illustrate how they presaged and ultimately informed the Floyd’s most celebrated subsequent discography beginning with 1973’s The Dark Side of the Moon. He delves deep, for instance, into the band’s nascent recording sessions and performances, including early studio albums like 1967’s The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and 1968’s A Saucerful of Secrets as well as experimental forays into film-soundtrack recordings. 

Kopp exerts a keen perspective throughout, contextualizing each project by dissecting each one’s artistic direction with the knowledge of one who is not only intimately familiar with the band’s expansive output but with rudimentary music principles as well. Such explanations never succumb to sounding too technical or abstract for casual fans to appreciate, thankfully, as Kopp offers just enough expert analysis to enlighten—rather than overwhelm—the reader. Overall, Reinventing Pink Floyd sheds light on a pivotal and all-too-often overlooked era of one of the all-time great bands just as it was evolving into an undisputed commercial hit-making  behemoth of progressive rock. Highly recommended. 

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An Interview with Alan Parsons

As digital technology has enabled some of the most innovative musicians to redefine the means of composition, so too has it facilitated record producers and engineers in broadening the possibilities of how music can sound. One of the foremost authorities on such matters, Alan Parsons chronicles the modern recording process in a three-DVD, nine-hour instructional series, The Art and Science of Sound Recording.

“The program is really designed to cover every aspect of recording,” he explains, “from the acoustic properties and design of the studio right through to the final mix of a record.” It's a culmination of sorts for Parsons, who has invested more than 40 years as a producer and engineer as well as an artist, along the way playing an integral role in shaping some of most seminal works of the pop-music era.

An assistant engineer for EMI Records in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, Parsons served his apprenticeship at Abbey Road Studios in London, acquiring the formative skills of his craft in album sessions for the Jeff Beck Group’s Beck-Ola and the Beatles’ Abbey Road, among others.

His stature grew exponentially when he produced and engineered Pink Floyd’s dystopian masterwork, 1973’s Dark Side of the Moon. The album has not only endured as a landmark achievement, but in many ways has also loomed over everything he’s done since.

“I’m never allowed to forget it,” Parsons says with a laugh, yet he acknowledges, “I do regard it as a milestone, a significant milestone. I’m always proud of it. There’s nothing I would change. The only slight thing is that I didn’t get rich off it. I was paid a studio-staff salary.”

Nonetheless, Parsons affirms that the experience afforded him the opportunity to pursue his own endeavors as a recording artist. “The Alan Parsons Project would not necessarily have happened,” he says, “had it not been for Dark Side of the Moon.”

Along with vocalist and co-writer Eric Woolfson and a cast of rotating musicians, the Alan Parsons Project enjoyed a successful run throughout the '70s and '80s with albums like I Robot and Eye in the Sky, both of which reached the Top Ten.

With a reputation as one of the foremost producers and engineers in the music industry, Parsons went on to work on such albums as Paul McCartney’s Red Rose Speedway and Al Stewart’s Year of the Cat. Also, indelible radio singles like Pilot’s “Magic” and The Hollies’ “The Air That I Breathe” bear his deft aesthetic.

Asked what inspired him to produce The Art and Science of Sound Recording, Parsons says, “I know there are people out there [who] have the same curiosity about what happens in a recording studio that I had when I was in my teens. I just felt it was time to give something back.”

In doing so, Parsons recently issued his first new solo single in six years, “All Our Yesterdays,” along with the B-side instrumental, “Alpha Centauri,” the latter serving as the theme song to the series.

Not only for professionals and audiophiles seeking such step-by-step instruction, the program should also prove enlightening to music fans interested in learning about the recording process. “I’ve interviewed a whole bunch of celebrated engineers, producers, and artists to get their particular perspective on certain aspects of recording as well,” Parsons says. Altogether, what’s presented is a comprehensive tutorial on subjects that insiders seldom reveal in such detail or with such consideration.

“Most recording studio videos that you see are basically bad miming in the studio against a track that they’ve finished,” Parsons says. “Pretty much everything you see in this video is as it actually happens.”

Beyond what is offered in the way of applicable technique, Parsons hopes the series will encourage viewers to better appreciate listening to music. “That’s something I’m trying to bring across in the program,” he says. “Learning how to listen is just as important as learning how to make it sound right. You have to know what a good sound is, and that’s quite difficult to do. It’s a big part of the art of engineering.

“It took me a while to grasp that in my own ears,” he continues. “When I first started working at Abbey Road, everything sounded great to me. [Then] I started doing a lot more listening and started to be more analytical. I started to hear the differences between one engineer and another.” As he refined his acuity, Parsons says he then developed his own tastes and distinguished his own creative voice.

Even so, Parsons notes that knowing the facts doesn’t preclude him from welcoming new insights and ideas. “Every session is, in a way, a learning experience,” he says. “I’m not the kind of guy who says, ‘I know everything. I know exactly how to do this.’ There are always alternatives and experimentation that you can try that haven’t been tried before, not necessarily just with recording techniques, but with production in general. You can take a musician in any direction through what you say.”

Interestingly, having spent his career experimenting with every conceivable element of music, Parsons hasn't compromised his basic ability to enjoy it. “There are some producers who analyze every note and every sound and every stereo moment. I can listen to music as a consumer, just like everybody else; and I do, frankly…I like to hear other people’s music, like everybody else, on TV or radio.”

Critics of digital have long contended that the technology doesn’t produce the sonic warmth of analog recording, but Parsons predicts, “You’ll be able to exactly duplicate the sound created by an analog tape machine if you so desire, and I’m sure there is research going on in that direction. Just like you can make video look like film if you want to, you should ultimately be able to make digital sound like tape.”

The question arises, though, if seemingly infinite options and user-friendly software minimize the importance of one cultivating genuine talent. “Oh no, there’s always room for talent,” Parsons insists. “It’s certainly less demanding on some aspects of engineering technique, but engineering technique is still important. It’s still alive and well, even in the digital age.”

What is not alive and well, Parson concedes, is the concept (if not the format) of the full-length album. “Sadly that has been a casualty of the digital age,” he says. “The iPod world is a three-minute world, not a one-hour world, unfortunately.” Other than artists recording longer songs across the board, he suggests, he doesn’t foresee the current trend reversing. “The idea of making a lengthy piece of music is much more difficult to bring across now.”

Still, Parsons is optimistic about the ongoing evolution of digital technology in music. “It has improved and I think it will continue to improve,” he says. “It’s still a young science. Even in its simplest form it’s really only been around thirty years.”

The capabilities of digital, he suggests, will over time eclipse any, if not all, of its criticism. “One day, we’ll laugh at ourselves and say, ‘What problem did we have with digital audio?’ Ultimately anything will be possible.” 

The Art and Science of Sound Recording is available for purchase through its official website.  

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Knebworth '90 Still Royally Rocks

On June 30, 1990 in Hertfordshire, England, on the stomping grounds of some of rock’s most historic, landmark events—the site of Led Zeppelin’s last stand on British soil, in ’79; where Freddie Mercury fronted Queen for the final time, in ’86—approximately 120,000 people descended upon Knebworth Park for a massive all-star concert benefiting the Nordof-Robbins Music Charity Centre and the Brit School for Performing Arts.

Long out of print in audio form (a DVD version was released in 2002), Live at Knebworth has at last been reissued, sounding just as dynamic as it did 20 years ago. Boasting a motherload of British music royalty, the double-disc set highlights extended performances by the likes of Paul McCartney, Elton John, Eric Clapton, Genesis, and Pink Floyd.

Given the random song selection, one could split hairs over which tracks made the cut—do you really need another live version of “Comfortably Numb”?—but on the whole it makes for a most enjoyable live album.

The “do-you-really-need-another” scrutiny could just as easily apply to the inclusion of other tracks like “Sunshine of Your Love” (Clapton), “Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting)” (Elton) or “Hey Jude” (McCartney). In the case of McCartney, though, it’s worth noting that he’d only begun playing a generous amount of Beatles songs in concert during the world tour he was on at this time, his first such road trip in 13 years. And on the heels of a momentous homecoming concert in Liverpool just two days before—where he poignantly paid tribute to John Lennon with a medley of “Strawberry Fields Forever," “Help,” and “Give Peace A Chance”—McCartney hit Knebworth in particularly high spirits, as his other featured track, a rambunctious take on “Coming Up,” revealed even further.

A more contemporary band didn’t stand much of a chance among all the legendary rockers on the bill, yet with “Badman’s Song,” Tears For Fears delivered one of the best (if not the best) performance of the entire show. In a fiery exchange, lead singer Roland Orzabal and the band’s best-kept secret, Oleta Adams — remember her anguished vocal on “Woman In Chains”? — summoned a menacing, 11-minute tour de force.

And so while one’s preferences will determine which selections they enjoy better than others, there really isn’t a bad track in the bunch. As an overview of Knebworth ‘90, it’s solid.

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Myth and Brilliance: Roger Waters Takes On The War, The Wall, and The Dark Side of the Moon

During his storied tenure with Pink Floyd, Roger Waters authored some of rock’s most subversive and socially defiant songs. On Saturday night at the Ford Amphitheatre, Waters drew primarily from that catalog to craft a sonic and visually stunning performance that took emphatic issue with American foreign policy and, in particular, the President of the United States.

Waters started early with his contempt for authority, as evidenced in the first line of the second song of the concert, “Mother,” from Pink Floyd’s magnum opus, The Wall, which asks, “Mother do you think they’ll drop the bomb?” His disdain only grew more defined. During “The Fletcher Memorial Home,” from 1983’s The Final Cut, when Waters sang of “wasters of life and limb,” the targeted inference was not lost on the audience. The most damning and direct admonition, though, came courtesy of “Leaving Beirut,” a song Waters wrote in 2004, which, in part, deplores the policies and practices of George W. Bush while warning free-thinking Americans, “Don’t let the might, the Christian right, fuck it all up/For you and the rest of the world.” To follow, a mesmerizing performance of “Sheep,” from 1977’s Animals, cemented Waters’ condemnation of the current political climate, as a massive inflatable pig (an iconic fixture of Pink Floyd lore), plastered with slogans including “habeas corpus matters” and “impeach Bush now,” floated over the crowd. “No, this is no bad dream,” Waters wailed, at times his face reddening in anguish and palpable anger.

Amid such concerted and serious undertones, the legend of Pink Floyd nonetheless loomed large and consistent throughout the performance. Under a massive spotlight rig illuminated to full psychedelic effect, “Set The Controls To the Heart of the Sun,” off 1968’s A Saucerful of Secrets, seemed and sounded, quite literally, out of this world. With wistful images of the Floyd’s lost leader, Syd Barrett, appearing on the giant screen, the majestic “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” felt especially poignant considering his passing last year. And the title track of Wish You Were Here further emphasized Barrett’s lasting impact and legacy, not only to his devoted fans, but also to an old friend singing his praise.

Of all the legends and fables of Pink Floyd, none resonate so profound as their enduring masterpiece, 1973’s Dark Side of the Moon. Perhaps because of the striking political bent to much of the show, however, Waters’ full-length performance of the album seemed almost obligatory if not, for the most part, unnecessary. Highlights included the radio smash, “Money,” along with the closing sequence of “Brain Damage” and “Eclipse,” but the complete recreation of such a landmark album, done so without the principal band members who helped create it in the first place, ultimately missed the mark. Unless all four surviving members of Pink Floyd come together to attempt this feat, maybe the 43 minutes of sonic bliss on Dark Side of the Moon would be better enjoyed with a decent pair of headphones.

In a climactic closing sequence that featured songs exclusively from The Wall, Waters again mixed music with current political context to brilliant effect. “The Happiest Days Of Our Lives” led into the anti-establishment anthem “Another Brick In The Wall (Part II)”. “Vera” culminated with a rousing version of “Bring The Boys Back Home,” perfected with exploding flash pots and flames amid a visual backdrop of a war zone. The point was suitably made. The implications shone through. “Comfortably Numb” then put that rage to rest while a riveted audience stood in awe.

 

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