The Pink Floyd Poetics

I don’t think I need to explain why Pink Floyd are special, and I don’t think I should try to. I’ve never seen Pink Floyd live nor any of the band’s solo shows, although I am agnostically praying for Roger Waters to visit Europe before he decides to settle down with his fifth wife. I wasn’t alive when their main canon of work was created; my parents hadn’t even met as my mum was still an idea being tossed around by my grandparents when The Dark Side of The Moon was released (they eventually made up their mind by Wish You Were Here). Yet here I am, 50 years after the release of their 6th album Meddle, feeling like Waters is writing for me, sending secretive poetic letters through time until their intended recipient finds themselves attacked with ancient emotions. Oh, how vain.

Pink Floyd have touched the hearts of many, but the key to my own inner sanctum lies in three aspects: their music, their lyrics, and their holistic artistry. As I am relatively uneducated in musical history and certainly have a limited scope on the music I have heard, let alone thought critically about, I am trying to logically map out the emotional severity that is Pink Floyd, so bear with me.

The first is simple, I’m a sucker for crying instruments. Not to be too heavy-handed, but an excellent example of what I consider to be a ‘crying instrument’ is The Beatles’ While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Every time I listen to Harrison softly speaking to me amongst the busy string background, I can’t help myself from stopping what I’m doing to listen, waiting with anticipation for the guitar solo. It is slow, it is clear, and it is singing. I feel that many bands are able to play instrumental pieces that never fail to suck me in, willing or not (too often I find myself late because I can’t let myself turn off Money For Nothing until it runs its own course). Pink Floyd don’t just do it more often than other artists I have had the fortune to find in my Spotify Discover Weekly, but do it brutally, without any care if I am ready for it.

The second is their lyrics. Just like other forms of media, songs generally follow a loose pattern which can be applied across many genres, some more fitting than others. Verse chorus verse chorus bridge chorus (more or less). During their most popular era, after Gilmour’s entrance and Barrett’s exit but before Waters’ ego-fuelled solo career, Waters didn’t write lyrics, instead favouring a poetic prose. Take one of their most famous songs from their most famous album: Time. Two verses and an outro that is a reprisal from a previous song, we get lyrics such as the opening line, “Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day” to finishing off the verse with, “No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.”

It is hard to describe age, even with the aid of a handy metaphor or two, and they smash it. When I listen to Time’s first verse, I want to scream through my speakers, “This is me! I understand you!” As I write this, I am 21 and cannot fathom what it is like to feel old (and I feel selfish when I do, as if I am hogging my own time without looking outwards), but when I hear the second verse I can see it. “The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older.” I feel like I am in English Lit. underlining quotes from my Dragon Book of Verse, deciphering precise words from brilliant minds.

The third is their artistry. This covers many branches so once again I find myself dividing it into three (shorter) parts.

1. Many of Floyd’s songs use non-musical pieces to enhance the experience: Time’s opening clocks, Have A Cigar’s ringing phone, all the titular animals in Animals.

2. Their album covers are not only striking but also do a good job at representing what lies beneath, never afraid to be different (Atom Heart Mother’s sole cow which led the record label asking if they sent the right photo).

3. Their filmic pacing.

I believe that Pink Floyd aren’t musicians looking to play a collection of thematic songs, they are storytellers. When I listen to them, I can hear the small breaks that allow an audience to self-reflect on the scene in front of them; I can hear the inter-song motifs that call-back previous songs or solos; I can hear the climaxes that are cautiously constructed in a methodical but human manner. I mean, there is a reason that the The Dark Side Of The Moon matches perfectly (tonally) with The Wizard of Oz (and also Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 but I think that is a story for another day).

Music is subjective and will continue to grow and transform as trends push the flow of the medium, but I believe there is no higher standard than Pink Floyd. The Dark Side Of The Moon, Wish You Were Here, Animals; each album is a masterpiece of evocative music and piercing lyrics. I can only wish to create works so whole, so fantastical, but aspirations push art so I will let them push me.