southamptonblue
Well-Known Member
On some albums, including this one (Roan)....it's definitely me! ;)
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The Album Review Club - Week #138 - (page 1790) - 1956 - Soul-Junk
- Thread starter RobMCFC
- Start date
journolud
Well-Known Member
We lived in New Zealand in the 90s for a couple of years. Besides waking up on our first morning to see a *n*i*d shirt on the washing line next door it was great and surprisingly, or maybe not when we told people we were from Macclesfield in England there were one or two who thought we might know the Macc Lads!First saw them at Stairways in Birkenhead. Later at Kilburn Ballroom where Mutley got a direct hit between the eyes (impressive shot) from someone spitting from the front. Without hesitation he wipes it with his finger, tastes it ....
"Aye, I can tell we're down south, there's spunk in that there gob"
GornikDaze
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 9 Jul 2012
- Messages
- 9,404
Agree about the anxious edgy side to this album. Floyd we’re going through plenty of traumas at this time, so it was inevitable that it would reflect on any creative writing. Looking forward to listening to this again.There’s no big story that links this album to a particular time in my life. In fact I can’t remember when I first heard it or how I came to have it. I expect it was yet another album bought from Mr Sifter (enjoying his moment in the sun with the return of Oasis) way back in time. Over the years though I’ve developed an emotional attachment to it that I can’t quite explain.
It’s a “mood” album I’m afraid. I do have mood albums that I turn to when I’m feeling on top of the world and full of enthusiasm for life. And I’m not a depressive by any means but I do have a tendency to favour the melancholy which this album provides in pretty reasonable measure.
I have a theory, that my 30+ years working as a mental health nurse tells me wouldn’t really hold up to much scrutiny, that a little bit of melancholy now and then is a useful inoculation against the big black clouds that some people sadly find themselves under more often than is comfortable. A homeopathic dose of misery you might say.
I have built up a picture of Richard Wright in my own mind as an unassuming, even diffident man. The opposite of the megalomaniac Waters and without looking too deeply into it he was always my favourite member of Pink Floyd. My dad, from whom I was estranged through circumstance for some important childhood years was a big Floyd fan and on our reacquaintance, despite his demons struck me as having similar characteristics. Pink Floyd? Fucking hell there’s a danger of this becoming more Pink Freud...
Wet Dream was released to a wave of indifference by all accounts, I vaguely remember Gilmour’s first solo album from the same general epoch getting more attention. Maybe Richard Wright’s indifference to himself (as imagined by me) made it’s way to the general public. It came out after Animals and before the Wall but is probably closer in style to Wish You Were Here. It was released at a time that Wright was struggling to hold his marriage together and the lyrics, such as they are reflect that inner turmoil. But, the lyrics could also reflect his sense of growing uncertainty about his place in the band, an anxiety certainly with foundation as things panned out. For that insight, which I’m sure I would have come up with if I hadn’t read it online I’m grateful to whichever review it was I read in the past few days.
In some respects this is a slight album. 10 tracks, six of them instrumentals. This works for me, Wrights vocals are plaintive, almost moribund and an albums worth of them might be too much. As it is the instrumental interludes set us up nicely for the songs with lyrics.
The great Snowy White on guitar - what’s not to like!
Saddleworth2
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 27 Jan 2014
- Messages
- 21,374
Did I miss voting for Chappel? Oh dear. Never mind. I had little to say that was in any way profound or interesting. I, like everyone on this thread are not her target audience so I suspect if she was reading what we thought of her she would sleep easy.
mancity2012_eamo
Well-Known Member
I’m travelling down The West for a few days tomorrow. I might stick this on in the car.
Loving Floyd, I’d expect to like this.
We’ll see. Had it on earlier, while cooking and then eating dinner. Wasn’t paying a lot of attention to it and it was pleasant enough as background music, without anything jumping out at me.
Too early to judge.
Loving Floyd, I’d expect to like this.
We’ll see. Had it on earlier, while cooking and then eating dinner. Wasn’t paying a lot of attention to it and it was pleasant enough as background music, without anything jumping out at me.
Too early to judge.
mrbelfry
Well-Known Member
This album has left me deeply conflicted. It seems to be deliberately dull but it seems to very accurately reflect the artist. Admittedly I know tap all about him or Pink Floyd or anything but judging from the few lyrics escaping his nasal cavity he seems to be confessing his own dullness.
Against the Odds which may or may not have been written with his wife definitely describes his marriage breaking up. It's delivered incredibly impassionately like they have been arguing about the correct spelling of the colour grey/gray and now can't eat breakfast together.
In Summer Elegy he writes "this song has no end" and you feel it. Not because it is delivered with any kind of conviction but because you just really want this thing to end. Unironically he writes that "too many words fill my mind" on an album that is full of instrumentals. He drinks too absent friends not realising that everyone else is still friends but they just stopped inviting him out because he loves to talk about all the different grit sandpaper he owns.
To be fair Waves does sound like waves washing gently upon a beach somewhere and has a nice little skip in it. It's actually in these small moments that the album has some merit and there's a good chance I'm just too cynical and blunt to get it. Wright is demonstrating the proper way to construct a perfectly fit dovetail whereas I want to just stick a couple of nails in it and be done.
I'll mention Holiday briefly because it sets up a line for me later on. It's message is a little confused as it starts with a plea to take a holiday, suddenly he exposes his own lack of conviction and general malaise before the song takes a bit of a positive slant without anything really changing.
Mad Yannis Dance retreads some of the same ground as Waves and like Cat Cruise fails to live up to it's title. I keep expecting and hoping for a Baba O'Riley style breakdown but it never comes. It is probably worth considering this album as a long piece of music rather than a collection of individual songs as the same piano patterns repeat throughout and the electric guitar and sax remain tonally stubborn.
Drop In From The Top attempts to do something slightly different as though the above mentioned holiday was taken at a Caribbean resort which Wright stubbornly refused to leave in case a pineapple fell on his head. His wife though went out and got a braid in her air which left Wright reeling - she's mad that one. That night as he anxiously smoked a cigarette on the balcony of his hotel a taxi went past. Through the open window of the cab he heard the snippet of a song he couldn't quite remember in the studio as he and the band jammed this out.
Then just as I'm about to rank this a 4 Pink's Song suddenly reminds me of my mate Derek. Derek was 20 years my senior and when I first met him he was on his way to commit suicide. He felt like life had done him dirty. He had married a much younger woman who had unexpectedly asked for a divorce. He'd moved into a tiny flat and was eking out a living making wedding videos. Every video he made reminded him of what he had lost and all his energy had been consumed by a deep sadness. He'd once ran a successful chain of bingo halls and started a pet ambulance business but all that conviction and confidence had left him with just a comb over and an Amiga.
He drove a Toyota Yaris and he'd installed a sound system in it worth more than the car. He'd often invite me into his car to listen to something he was really excited by. He never played me this but no doubt if he'd owned it he would have. I would politely admire the tunes and his car which he was so proud of mainly because Derek was the kind of guy who really wanted you to like what he liked and if you didn't he would get quite upset. The boot was full of car cleaning products and he was so meticulous with his own car that he eventually ran a small business cleaning the cars of beautiful women who worked for the now defunct clothing company Misguided.
When he got sick with cancer i was 100% not a good enough friend but he still held me in a higher regard than I deserved. He was in and out of hospital and I would sometimes pick him up in my car. He would admonish me for how untidy it was and vowed to leave me his Yaris when he passed away.
He kept his promise and I drove his car full of cleaning products for more than a year. My hands would smell of the cologne he wore that had seeped into the steering wheel and I'd listen to the mix cd he had made me make him. When it finally packed in I sold it for £50. It was worth so much more - not as a vehicle but as a testament to him.
I had made some invites to his memorial service and had a picture of him on my computer. My four year old somehow managed to change the title of the file to "Dead Derek" which he would have been gravely offended by but which never fails to make my family laugh.
Like the car this album smells of him and he would have really enjoyed it. So in honour of him and because I'll forever now call it "Dead Derek's Album" it gets a 10.
Against the Odds which may or may not have been written with his wife definitely describes his marriage breaking up. It's delivered incredibly impassionately like they have been arguing about the correct spelling of the colour grey/gray and now can't eat breakfast together.
In Summer Elegy he writes "this song has no end" and you feel it. Not because it is delivered with any kind of conviction but because you just really want this thing to end. Unironically he writes that "too many words fill my mind" on an album that is full of instrumentals. He drinks too absent friends not realising that everyone else is still friends but they just stopped inviting him out because he loves to talk about all the different grit sandpaper he owns.
To be fair Waves does sound like waves washing gently upon a beach somewhere and has a nice little skip in it. It's actually in these small moments that the album has some merit and there's a good chance I'm just too cynical and blunt to get it. Wright is demonstrating the proper way to construct a perfectly fit dovetail whereas I want to just stick a couple of nails in it and be done.
I'll mention Holiday briefly because it sets up a line for me later on. It's message is a little confused as it starts with a plea to take a holiday, suddenly he exposes his own lack of conviction and general malaise before the song takes a bit of a positive slant without anything really changing.
Mad Yannis Dance retreads some of the same ground as Waves and like Cat Cruise fails to live up to it's title. I keep expecting and hoping for a Baba O'Riley style breakdown but it never comes. It is probably worth considering this album as a long piece of music rather than a collection of individual songs as the same piano patterns repeat throughout and the electric guitar and sax remain tonally stubborn.
Drop In From The Top attempts to do something slightly different as though the above mentioned holiday was taken at a Caribbean resort which Wright stubbornly refused to leave in case a pineapple fell on his head. His wife though went out and got a braid in her air which left Wright reeling - she's mad that one. That night as he anxiously smoked a cigarette on the balcony of his hotel a taxi went past. Through the open window of the cab he heard the snippet of a song he couldn't quite remember in the studio as he and the band jammed this out.
Then just as I'm about to rank this a 4 Pink's Song suddenly reminds me of my mate Derek. Derek was 20 years my senior and when I first met him he was on his way to commit suicide. He felt like life had done him dirty. He had married a much younger woman who had unexpectedly asked for a divorce. He'd moved into a tiny flat and was eking out a living making wedding videos. Every video he made reminded him of what he had lost and all his energy had been consumed by a deep sadness. He'd once ran a successful chain of bingo halls and started a pet ambulance business but all that conviction and confidence had left him with just a comb over and an Amiga.
He drove a Toyota Yaris and he'd installed a sound system in it worth more than the car. He'd often invite me into his car to listen to something he was really excited by. He never played me this but no doubt if he'd owned it he would have. I would politely admire the tunes and his car which he was so proud of mainly because Derek was the kind of guy who really wanted you to like what he liked and if you didn't he would get quite upset. The boot was full of car cleaning products and he was so meticulous with his own car that he eventually ran a small business cleaning the cars of beautiful women who worked for the now defunct clothing company Misguided.
When he got sick with cancer i was 100% not a good enough friend but he still held me in a higher regard than I deserved. He was in and out of hospital and I would sometimes pick him up in my car. He would admonish me for how untidy it was and vowed to leave me his Yaris when he passed away.
He kept his promise and I drove his car full of cleaning products for more than a year. My hands would smell of the cologne he wore that had seeped into the steering wheel and I'd listen to the mix cd he had made me make him. When it finally packed in I sold it for £50. It was worth so much more - not as a vehicle but as a testament to him.
I had made some invites to his memorial service and had a picture of him on my computer. My four year old somehow managed to change the title of the file to "Dead Derek" which he would have been gravely offended by but which never fails to make my family laugh.
Like the car this album smells of him and he would have really enjoyed it. So in honour of him and because I'll forever now call it "Dead Derek's Album" it gets a 10.
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mancity2012_eamo
Well-Known Member
WTF!This album has left me deeply conflicted. It seems to be deliberately dull but it seems to very accurately reflect the artist. Admittedly I know tap all about him or Pink Floyd or anything but judging from the few lyrics escaping his nasal cavity he seems to be confessing his own dullness.
Against the Odds which may or may not have been written with his wife definitely describes his marriage breaking up. It's delivered incredibly impassionately like they have been arguing about the correct spelling of the colour grey/gray and now can't eat breakfast together.
In Summer Elegy he writes "this song has no end" and you feel it. Not because it is delivered with any kind of conviction but because you just really want this thing to end. Unironically he writes that "too many words fill my mind" on an album that is full of instrumentals. He drinks too absent friends not realising that everyone else is still friends but they just stopped inviting him out because he loves to talk about all the different grit sandpaper he owns.
To be fair Waves does sound like waves washing gently upon a beach somewhere and has a nice little skip in it. It's actually in these small moments that the album has some merit and there's a good chance I'm just too cynical and blunt to get it. Wright is demonstrating the proper way to construct a perfectly fit dovetail whereas I want to just stick a couple of nails in it and be done.
I'll mention Holiday briefly because it sets up a line for me later on. It's message is a little confused as it starts with a plea to take a holiday, suddenly he exposes his own lack of conviction and general malaise before the song takes a bit of a positive slant without anything really changing.
Mad Yannis Dance retreads some of the same ground as Waves and like Cat Cruise fails to live up to it's title. I keep expecting and hoping for a Baba O'Riley style breakdown but it never comes. It is probably worth considering this album as a long piece of music rather than a collection of individual songs as the same piano patterns repeat throughout and the electric guitar and sax remain tonally stubborn.
Drop In From The Top attempts to do something slightly different as though the above mentioned holiday was taken at a Caribbean resort which Wright stubbornly refused to leave in case a pineapple fell on his head. His wife though went out and got a braid in her air which left Wright reeling - she's mad that one. That night as he anxiously smoked a cigarette on the balcony of his hotel a taxi went past. Through the open window of the cab he heard the snippet of a song he couldn't quite remember in the studio as he and the band jammed this out.
Then just as I'm about to rank this a 4 Pink's Song suddenly reminds me of my mate Derek. Derek was 20 years my senior and when I first met him he was on his way to commit suicide. He felt like life had done him dirty. He had married a much younger woman who had unexpectedly asked for a divorce. He'd moved into a tiny flat and was eking out a living making wedding videos. Every video he made reminded him of what he had lost and all his energy had been consumed by a deep sadness. He'd once ran a successful chain of bingo halls and started a pet ambulance business but all that conviction and confidence had left him with just a comb over and an Amiga.
He drove a Toyota Yaris and he'd installed a sound system in it worth more than the car. He'd often invite me into his car to listen to something he was really excited by. He never played me this but no doubt if he'd owned it he would have. I would politely admire the tunes and his car which he was so proud of mainly because Derek was the kind of guy who really wanted you to like what he liked and if you didn't he would get quite upset. The boot was full of car cleaning products and he was so meticulous with his own car that he eventually ran a small business cleaning the cars of beautiful women who worked for the now defunct clothing company Misguided.
When he got sick with cancer i was 100% not a good enough friend but he still held me in a higher regard than I deserved. He was in and out of hospital and I would sometimes pick him up in my car. He would admonish me for how untidy it was and vowed to leave me his Yaris when he passed away.
He kept his promise and I drove his car full of cleaning products for more than a year. My hands would smell of the cologne he wore that had seeped into the steering wheel and I'd listen to the mix cd he had made me make him. When it finally packed in I sold it for £50. It was worth so much more - not as a vehicle but as a testament to him.
I had made some invites to his memorial service and had a picture of him on my computer. My four year old somehow managed to change the title of the file to "Dead Derek" which he would have been gravely offended by but which never fails to make my family laugh.
Like the car this album smells of him and he would have really enjoyed it. So in honour of him and because I'll forever now call it "Dead Derek's Album" it gets a 10.
I know I’m going to have to read that again, but if this is what it makes you feel and this is a 10 for you, I’m conflicted between wondering how melancholic you are feeling, yourself and if you’d like to talk.
That and my own feelings of, maybe I won’t play this in the car tomorrow, myself, as I’ve had an odd year and this mightn’t be the best travelling companion.
Are you ok mate?
We’re all friends here. ;-)
BimboBob
Well-Known Member
The power of music.WTF!
I know I’m going to have to read that again, but if this is what it makes you feel and this is a 10 for you, I’m conflicted between wondering how melancholic you are feeling, yourself and if you’d like to talk.
That and my own feelings of, maybe I won’t play this in the car tomorrow, myself, as I’ve had an odd year and this mightn’t be the best travelling companion.
Are you ok mate?
We’re all friends here. ;-)
Although I'm a little confused, it's a 4 until he remember Derek might have liked it.
And people wonder about my scoring system...
Black&White&BlueMoon Town
Well-Known Member
This album has left me deeply conflicted. It seems to be deliberately dull but it seems to very accurately reflect the artist. Admittedly I know tap all about him or Pink Floyd or anything but judging from the few lyrics escaping his nasal cavity he seems to be confessing his own dullness.
... (some very deep insightful stuff)
Like the car this album smells of him and he would have really enjoyed it. So in honour of him and because I'll forever now call it "Dead Derek's Album" it gets a 10.
I don't know if I'm more amazed at how fast you are in reviewing an album each and every week, or your innate ability to tie it into something that is so emotional and insightful that I probably would never reach.
You and I both love Radiohead, and when I read how you interpret an album, it makes me know that I'm both on the right side of history on appreciating good music (I don't want to hear it, naysayers!), and there's still hope for me to sense it to the degree that you do.
Sorry to hear about your mate, I know he'd be proud of how you've honoured him. Since you are done with the album, you should definitely give "Wearing the Inside Out" a spin, because Richard has done well to capture isolation and despair and coming back out of it.
"This bleeding heart's, not beating much."
"And with these words, I can see, clear through the clouds that covered me"
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