Thursday, 28 January 2016
As I have no doubt gone about many a time on this blog - memory is an extraordinary thing, in particular why and how certain moments in life are preserved.
Mark recently borrowed the entire works of Pink Floyd (box set the size of . . . well, a small shoe box) from the music library. I am not au fait with the earlier works apart from a rather super-ly titled song, 'Careful with that Axe Eugene' that was on an album Mum acquired at some point called Relics. But of course I am very familiar with all the later stuff that was so commercially successful - Animals, Wish You were Here, and of course Dark Side of the Moon.
It was a joy to hear this re-mastered version: somewhat different to my old creaky, ash-stained vinyl edition.
Going back to the memory thing . . . On hearing this part of the album, I suddenly had a vivid recollection of sitting with Mum (think I would have been about twelve) in some velvet-clad basement in the centre of London listening to this track as it zoomed in and out of four speakers and a be-suited man leapt about telling her about the benefits of Quadrophonic Sound. Something, that Mark pointed out when I told him of this recollection, in fact lasted for a squintesimal amount of time once people realised you had to sit stock still in the middle of the room rather than doing the washing up.
The really odd thing is why we were there. Mum was poverty struck enough that buying a pot of marmite was a very serious consideration.
Anyway, I was left with a desire to go and buy the album and play it to death on our very old and crap record player - which I/we did.
Well worth a re-listen if you haven't heard it for years, especially for all the marvellously morose lines such as 'Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way' or 'ten years have got behind you; no-one told you when to run'.