Coincidentally enough, most of the guys I've seriously dated had a Pink Floyd phase themselves at one point or another. My first "real" boyfriend was Rick, in high school. I was sixteen (16) when we dated (he was fourteen (14), and two years is no big deal now, but was sometimes frustrating at the time.) He was a crazy insane Pink Floyd fan. He liked all the way from the crazy Syd Barrett stuff to the modern day Gilmour stuff (I went to see them in Yankee Stadium on the Division Bell tour with him and his mom. His mom was there, and it was the endgame of our relationship, and also the drunk grownups in front of us were annoying, but we were on the field and it was a very memorable show,) but mostly I would say he was a Roger Waters man. Then there was Jerry my freshman year of college: he was also crazy-obsessed with Pink Floyd, but he was definitely a Gilmour dude (he was also boring, I am sure you are unsurprised to learn.) Jeff always seemed most taken with the Syd Barrett years. Chris is hard to pin down as well . . . he definitely goes for the Syd Barrett stuff, but also maybe some later stuff? I'm not even sure where the stuff he listens to comes from. Maybe it's early Barrett stuff before he went crazy.
Me, I think I'm a Roger Waters man myself. Although I have to admit that a lot of Gilmour stuff is so big and breezy that I can't resist it. I thought "Learning to Fly" was the most amazing song in the universe at one point in college. I pretty much almost can't stand a lot of the Syd Barrett stuff though. It hurts my ears, and it doesn't really sound like real music to me. Some of it's okay because I've heard it so often.
Chris asked me a while back what my favorite Pink Floyd song was, and I said, well, my favorite Pink Floyd album is Animals. No dizzoubt. I played it once or twice for Chris after he had played a Les Claypool (or Claypool-related project, who knows) cover of "Dogs" (and inspired me to purchase the thing) assuming he would love it as much as I do, and he didn't! I don't get it. Although I guess I do, it's an album. It's good for having on when you're driving long distances at night. Or delivering Chinese food in high school. It's not very exciting, though, it's a . . . mood piece. Or something.
Favorite song, though, is harder. And I reserve the right to change my mind upon further reflection, but I'm going to have to go with "Nobody Home" from The Wall. The first time I heard The Wall was in a car in Martha's Vineyard, the summer after eighth grade. I was there on vacation with my best friend Nancy and her parents. Nancy was the Bad Girl -- she drank and smoked pot and slept with boys. I was the quiet, shy, nerdy sidekick who didn't kiss a boy until I was fourteen (14). We hitchhiked all over the island that week, and snuck out of the hotel at night. One of the rides we scored was with a couple of older dudes (haha, they were probably, like, seventeen (17)), who were blasting The Wall. Nancy was familiar because her older brother listened to it, and she sang along or mouthed the words or something so that they would know she knew it and that we were cool. (I remember doing that with the two songs I knew from Pretty Hate Machine in Boomer's dad's van in ninth or tenth grade. I was DYING for "Ringfinger" to come on so that I could casually illustrate how cool I was, DYING I tell you.) After that vacation we watched the movie, which Nancy owned (or stole from her brother), about a thousand times. Okay maybe not that many but at least twenty-five. I dubbed the album onto a cassette tape ("Hey You" had to go on the first side, even though it's the first song on the second disc; that's just the way it fit) and drew little wall blocks on there and listened to it a zillion times. I know it by heart.
So when Chris first asked me, I couldn't remember the name of the song. I could only remember the way it went. "I got a little black book with me poems in/Got a silver spoon on a chain. . . " yadda yadda yadda. Finally today I looked up the name of it. Nobody Home. Man that song is great, but part of its greatness is in its inclusion in the album, quiet among the loud. Quiet and plaintive and honest and hopeless.
I have the song now because friends are awesome, but this morning I didn't, and I searched for it, and ended up watching the scene from the movie on YouTube. Man I've seen that movie a lot of times. When he shaves his chest, and then splashes the water onto his chest to wash off the blood . . . I knew that scene. I knew the rhythm of it, how the splashes go. It resonated with me. I don't know a lot of movies like that anymore -- probably the ones I do are all ones I watched with Nancy, or in college -- but I like knowing a movie that way. I may not be able to recite every line, but they're in there. I know the rhythm of the movie.
And listening to this album again? Fantastic. It's not the best album in the universe, but man, I will sing the goddamn hell out of it when there's no one around to listen. UP AGAINST THE WALL! Man. It just . . . I'm in that car, and the sun is shining in through the sunroof. I'm in Nancy's room, watching it for the upteenth time, saying the name "Pink" like it's a real name. I'm in Greg's room in college, trying so hard to get him to like me. Man, music.
Um . . . this entry was less cohesive than I had hoped. But I have to get back to work. Tell me what movies YOU know the rhythm of! I could write an entry about Yellow Submarine too. But now, back to work! Who let all this riff-raff into the room??