As my crazy fortnight-and-a-bit trails off in to a return to my version of normality, I take up again with The Rod for My Own Back Project ie playing - and blogging - all my record collection before I hit forty. (I am 37½ in a couple of weeks).
By some gorgeous serendipity I realise that apropos rock/pop cassettes I have alphabetically arrived at Pink Floyd. Pink Floyd, whom I have seen live, in a powerful and memorable performance, one of my top four from Live8.
Not that my record collection is massively endowed with Floyd. I am 99.99% certain that I taped these two albums from my brother-in-law. Since then I have always liked them, but not loved. I have an inherent prejudice against a certain type of 70s Rock, ponderous longwinded guitars. But, on the other hand, they are mellow and atmospheric, musical and easy on the ear. And excel at everything that I loathe so much in bands of a similar genre. I don't want to be one of those people who rave at the genius of The Floyd, they are, after all, desperately uncool people, and mainly men. But, what can I say, Pink Floyd - Genius...! Putting (almost) all those young arrogant bands to shame, most of whom, if they were play to a massive gig in twenty-five years would have most people shrugging and saying "Who?"
And now, gorgeously, everytime I hear these albums I shall recall that one wonderful day three weeks ago in Hyde Park.
My favourite tracks are Shine On You Crazy Diamond,Wish You Were Here and Speak to Me/Breathe but I think the albums have to be taken as an overall, er, concept, chilling, laying back. I kind of feeling they are a perfect soundtrack for a mellow joint, except that joints make me feel sick.
