Pink Floyd and their Dark Moon

Fifty years...

It makes me a little uncomfortable to accept that I am almost as old as The Dark Side of Moon, Pink Floyd's most semiotically recognized and respected album. There are several versions of the recording available, including the new boxset that includes several versions of key tracks and concert footage that proves that the band was still finding some way to make every piece fit the overall puzzle. The one thing that I did not do last week - when the anniversary was official for us (March 1st was the North American release date; March 16th in the U.K.) - was play the album. I had no need to after realizing all that time had passed. Those who have heard it will never forget the experience; those who have not heard it will have every opportunity possible to enjoy it (try it on YouTube, Spotify, your uncle or dad's old turntable - you know that there is copy around that thing). So, it is a memory that won't be shaken. But I thought it would be interesting to discuss my own relationship with the album. Let's go back...

...to the early 80s. We had just moved to the suburbs, and I was starting in a new school. I think that move more than anything else changed my perspectives. The movies I watched, books I read, and especially the music I listened to were all filtered through the people and environment my family decided to move into that year. And I made new friends who would provide a lot of guidance, both good and bad.

One friend gave me the greatest shock. I am going to call him M., to avoid embarrassing either of us with this piece. One day, he invited me over to his place to listen to records (we played road hockey together and supported the same players, so a bond was made). In his basement, besides the Dungeons and Dragons material stacked on several shelves, were several rows of records. I first saw and heard Black Sabbath and George Carlin in that basement (the latter's Seven Words You Can't Say on Television deserves a separate piece). And then I saw those covers.

Storm Thorgerson deserves his place in musical history. When the vinyl album was the preferred form of music, the cover was the canvas that introduced fans to the mysteries inside. I remember staring at Animals, seeing that floating pig next to what looked like a factory (actually Battersea Power Station, now defunct). What could that possibly mean? And then Wish You Were Here was placed in my hands, and I really had to think through that one: okay, the guy's on fire; the other one is shaking his hand (did this cause the flames to go up?); part of that inner white frame was scorched, and they were in what looked like the back lot of a movie studio. Okay, this was going to be complicated. This continued with Obscured by Clouds, Ummagumma, A Saucerful of Secrets, and Atom Heart Mother (nice cows, though). What did it mean?

And then I saw that cover. Their copy was faded and wrinkled with white lines from long use and the outline of the record was clear when it pulled off the shelf. This was a cover that appealed to some concept I had, even as a young child, about balance, symmetry, and how one thing could lead so beautifully to another. I now remember that M. did not play any Pink Floyd for me...and I now realize how glad I am for this. The cover did it all. I had to do the hunting.

I finally got my hands on the album...many years after that moment in the basement. This might sound a little odd. I could have heard it much earlier with a little bit of persistence and determination, but this was the early 1980s. There were plenty of other distractions, musical and otherwise, that sucked me in (Micheal Jackson, of course, but I also went through a serious Supertramp phase, having the ability at one point to name every track on every album between 1974 and 1982). Pink Floyd barely registered with me. And when they did, I thought they were heavy metal, a type of music I associated with the rougher kids I know, and nonsense about sword and sorcery (that exposure to D & D did not take, either). But I finally turned... I wanted to know why kids who loved the Beatles, Black Sabbath, AC/DC and certain teachers also loved the band.

That first hearing... It was on a boombox in my brother's room. Yes, I heard it on tape. No posters, postcards, stickers, or fetishization of the cover and lyrics at that point. All I had was the simple liner notes and my ears...and also the counter. What I remember most of all was counting down the seconds on the boombox itself until I could actually hear anything. I think it was at about 12 seconds that the first heartbeat came in. And then voices, ticking, torn paper, laughter, a shriek, and there it was.

Was that a key moment for me? Did it change my life? I am still not sure if it was or did. I had started to play the guitar, but the licks I heard on that album were not the ones that inspired me to keep practicing. They seemed part of a larger whole; an entire world of synthesized effects and sounds that created an incredible pattern of noise and thoughts in my young mind. And I have to say this here: I still cannot believe how popular the album was and is. Over several decades on the charts; countless reissues and boxsets; endless debates about all of the themes it contains, and impossible theories about what it all means (if you know the Wizard of Oz theory, you understand what I am getting at here). Perhaps only the Beatles Sgt. Pepper album has been as dissected and analyzed. DSOTM feels closer to home, though. The darkness is much more believable to us.

Thank you for reading!

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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