Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts

Book Review: Inside Out

“Inside Out: A Personal History of Pink Floyd” by Nick Mason

I thoroughly enjoyed this one. “Inside Out” is a personal look at the evolution of Pink Floyd by drummer Nick Mason. Not only is it interesting and educational, but the writing was flawlessly succinct. (I could really write this on how well edited the book was, and how easy it was to read.)

I have always imagined Pink Floyd using psychedelics to perfect their psychedelic sound. It made sense to conclude that. Listening to them certainly seemed to channel another realm of human experience.

But the musicians in Pink Floyd weren't acid-dropping star gazers, an image I couldn't relate to in the first place because I'm not a drug user. They were hardworking, their music growing out of their constant experiments rather than a fog of chemicals, their ambition and consistency grounded in their middle-class background and college education.

Though none of them actually finished college (Mason, Wright, and Waters had met in architecture school), they used what they learned, mixing technical expertise with free expression: the freedom to create a sound unhindered by technique, with the order of design.

They were self-taught musicians who felt comfortable wandering away from known paths. Mason remarks late in the book that they eventually stopped playing the song “Echoes” live because the younger musicians they played with in the late 80s were too accurate, too inhibited by their professional training.

Though they certainly partook in drugs occasionally—Alcohol mostly, some marijuana, and Richard Wright's cocaine addiction—no one died. No one overdosed. No one was so high that they couldn't perform.

It was refreshing (and ironic) to find that the band most thought of as psychedelic didn't divine their sound from psychedelics, but from a mix of hard work and play.

I appreciated this fact deeply. Pink Floyd was no fluke or accident. A lot of hard work and careful planning—with a heavy dose of free spirit—went into the albums they made. Their songs were borne from consistent effort to find perfection rather than from listless tinkering. Because I am not a drug user, I could not relate to the false image I had of the band, even though I enjoyed their music. But knowing the truth, I now realize that their process is repeatable. I personally can strive for what they strove for. We are on the same field.

Like all bands, fame didn't come easy and keeping it together at the top was more difficult. Their “best musician” as Nick Mason called their first lead guitarist left the band before they really got started, and their second lead guitarist and singer went crazy partly as a consequence of their growing fame, but also as a result of getting caught in the drug culture the others avoided.

They cut their teeth in the mid-60s in London clubs and Freak Outs, but while their fans watched on in starry-eyed wonder, tripping on drugs, high on the music and the light show, Pink Floyd was, according to Mason, too ambitious to pay attention to the lifestyle around them (except for Syd Barrett). They were working class, they were dedicated to making it as musicians, motivated by what they played and the reaction they got from those listening.

Syd Barrett unfortunately and inevitably succumbed to the lifestyle of the people around the band. Once they lost their lead singer and guitarist, they had to regroup, take on a new guitarist (David Gilmour) and point themselves in another direction, slightly away from the psychedelic scene and more toward an instrumental focus. Perhaps into the heart of the sun, as they would, within ten years, find themselves at the top of the world.

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Echoes


Get headphones, put them on and lay down with your eyes closed. Listen to this entire song. Don't analyze it. Don't judge it. Just listen.

What did you feel? How did you feel? What did you hear?

~*~

Obviously Echoes is an instrumental, save for a couple of minutes of lyrics near the beginning and near the end. What is this song saying? Hopefully you've already listened to it and have an idea for yourself, and my own won't contaminate yours.

The lyrics (for me) put forward the idea that we are separate, that we struggle to connect with each other, and yet that we are all each other, all the same. The words have a very heavy pantheistic tone to them. As I listen, I am the albatross, the waves, the coral.

I am you and what I see is me

Most importantly I am the music itself. Pink Floyd had an amazing ability to create beats, tones, rhythms, sounds that meld with the body, and Echoes is one of the best (but far from the only) example of this.

There is an underlying layer of spirituality in the lyrics, and the long instrumental in the middle, of tones and beats and odd sounds, acts as a cacophony emulating life itself. Then this seeming chaos gives way to order and a more normalized sound.

I'm going to break down the lyrics because they seem to have a steady pattern in them that touches a deep part of me and the ideas I hold about life.


Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves
In labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant tide
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.


This is the first segment, and it's fairly natural. No human presence, just animals, water, sand, sights and sounds. It sets the mood. Think of Adam seeing Earth for the first time in the Garden.

And no-one called us to the land
And no-one knows the wheres or whys
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light


The second segment portrays Man's creation. Not by a god, as in the story of Genesis, but naturally, from the foam of the sea. It is mysterious and mystical. We don't have the answers, but we are here. We never asked to be here, but here we are. We move toward the light (toward a higher evolution) by instinct. 

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can


Now in the third segment we have arrived. We are in our society, our cocoon, separated from nature, from the green and submarine, and even from ourselves. This third segment is the deepest and most meaningful to me. It is filled with so much hope and potential, that all we have to do to connect to one another is to catch a glance, take a hand, and go.

And no-one calls us to move on
And no-one forces down our eyes
And no-one speaks and no-one tries
And no-one flies around the sun


The fourth segment shows our failure, our inability to connect with each other, and it seems to be a cry of frustration. And no-one speaks and no-one tries, And no-one flies around the sun is an irony. We don't try? Hell, we must not be here at all then, flying around the sun!


Cloudless everyday you fall upon my waking eyes
inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning

And no-one sings me lullabies
And no-one makes me close my eyes
And so I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky


The final two segments are reserved for the end of the song, separated by what went before by nearly fifteen minutes of sound, sometimes random, other times organized. These lines are an extension of the fourth segment, or at least seem to be. He speaks of the sun, the one constant in our world. And then of the loneliness of living in a world without others to care for us, to stand by us.

And so he calls to the sun, the constant - Nature herself. When we have forsaken each other, what else can we have but her?

Deep, eh? It's a great song.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Echoes_%28Pink_Floyd_song%29

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The Sounds of Oppression


Someone had said that they enjoyed all things “Southern” but found it weird that they didn't listen to country music. To me it makes perfect sense, because there's little “country” about the South. Country music is a product of Nashville and Texas, and to a larger extent the Midwest (Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, etc., or certainly this is where most of the listeners are from).

The United States is a vast place, and differs greatly from one location to another. To me the “South” is Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, maybe South Carolina and Northern Florida (for Southern Florida, especially Miami, is in its own universe). Texas is more Western than any other state, and is distinctly not Southern. Tennessee and other middle states are quite the same, something a little different.

What is the music of the South? Southern rock, of course! As well as rap, jazz, and the blues. The African American influence on the world is incredible. The South, whether it be New Orleans or Atlanta, has had a huge impact on several prominent forms of music. There would be no Led Zeppelin without the 1940s and 50s blues musicians—there would be no rock n roll!

There are some places which supersede their surroundings. New York City is far different from New England or the Northeast. Los Angeles and Hollywood seem alien settings adrift in California's beautiful mountainous regions, forests, and deserts. Nashville is nothing like anywhere else. New Orleans and Miami are no more Southern than Fargo or Chicago are. Speaking of Chicago, it dwarfs the rest of the Midwest, a strange artifact, an international conglomerate in the middle of farmland for as far as one can drive in a day. And yet not all great American cities can claim the same grandness. Boston seems to be quintessential New England and Atlanta is the South. Seattle is to the Northeast as apples are to pie.

And yet these cities are at least unique compared to one another, and it is in these “unique” cities where many of the groundbreaking musical evolutions have come from, and these revolutions are both a product of their city's uniqueness and also mother to that uniqueness. Rock stars in L. A., country music superstars in Nashville, the blues and jazz in New Orleans.

So I do not see the South as a place of country music. When I think of the South I think of black men playing horns and pressing their strong fingers against some of the first electric guitar strings. When I think of the South I think of the precursor to “rock,” both in England and in the South itself (whether it's The Rolling Stones or Lynyrd Skynyrd), not to mention the West coast. The South has a sound, and that sound has a lot to do with the hardships of tilling the land, not on green tractors, but with the hands that later free men would put to use on instruments quite different from plows.

The South is all about music. Or, rather, music is everything to the South. But what kind of music is it?

It's the music of pain, of being put down and kept down. It's no coincidence that the downtrodden youth of the 1960s, be it in America or England, related to the blues masters of the 1950s. There is a distinct trend of oppression from society throughout both musical genres.

When I speak of oppression I am not talking of slavery, but of being singled out for the way you look, act, and feel. There are few people today who can relate or truly understand what it was like to be a slave, but there are millions who know what it's like to be oppressed. Oppression is as general a human emotion as fear or joy. Kurt Cobain understood oppression, as did Keith Moon.

This oppression, as far as I can tell, has not existed in country music for decades—not since, perhaps, Johnny Cash and Loretta Lynn. Otherwise country music is about more wholesome topics. Losing or winning the girl, riding the ranges, painting a sound to go with the picturesque ideals of Midwestern America.

In African American culture there is still a heavy, lingering memory of oppression. It is visible in rap and hip hop.

Counterculture in the 1960s ran headlong into oppression. The blues artists of the previous decade were born from it. It is no more unique to the South than rocks are unique to mountains. Yet the South harbored it, erupted it, and from there its music spread across land and sea.

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