Flashback Friday: The Time I First Listened To Pink Floyd

So here we are again: another week without a single post by me. In my defense, I've spent the majority of it recovering from a debilitating injury (a pulled muscle, to be exact), making thoughtful writing kind of difficult for yours truly. Indeed, I am on some heavy-duty Ibuprofen (prescribed, in case any narcs/DEA agents are wondering) as I type this, hoping to God that it doesn't wear off soon. I did at one point try to write something (similar in tone to the serious post I mentioned last week, but about a different topic and, if it turns out the way I envision it, not nearly as long), but again, my ailment conspired to keep me from fully developing it, forcing me to put it on hold. Given that I am medicated at the moment and thus have a small window of opportunity to write, I will make it up to you all by sharing with you a Flashback Friday about one of my most formative experiences: the first time I heard Pink Floyd.

I don't remember exactly when it was was, but I remember where I was. I was in the backseat of my parent's car on the way to the Orange County Circle, listening to my Walkman (yes, dear reader, it was that long ago). I listened almost solely to The Beatles and 60s' one hit wonders at this early point in my life, but that day, I had decided to listen to something new, if you can call a band that disbanded some 20 years ago new. Before leaving for the Circle that day, I took my dad's copy of Dark Side Of The Moon. I had heard many things about Pink Floyd and that particular album, so I was curious to see what all the fuss was about.

Remember the last time you used one of these? For me, it was shortly after Lehman Bros. went belly up.

I was... uninitiated, to put it lightly. As I mentioned before, my musical palate was limited to the soft, mainly happy-go-lucky songs of such groups as The Tokens, Strawberry Alarm Clock, and Tommy James & The Shondells. Probably the most out-there thing I listened to at the time was Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles' soundtrack for the film of the same name, which speaks wonders about my musical naivete. I was familiar with bizarre lyrics like those heard in "Incense and Peppermints" or "I Am The Walrus", but as strange as the words said in these songs were, they were at least presented in a straight-forward fashion for the most part. This was certainly not the case with Dark Side Of The Moon. 

I stewed with anticipation as I placed the disc in the Walkman and hit play. I waited... and waited. I focused my undivided attention on the soon-to-be-heard music, yet I heard nothing. It was maddening, hearing people chattering, laughing, machines being operated, hearing anything and everything but the music. I even could hear my heart beat increasingly louder, perhaps a sign of an imminent anxiety attack. It was just as I became convinced that I was going insane before the aforementioned sounds built up to a crescendo punctuated by a shrill scream and ominous droning sound. Only then did it hit me that this WAS the music.

I was floored. I had never heard anything quite like that, and to this day I haven't heard anything that managed to recreate that sense of impending insanity. It took me a while to recover as the album merged seamlessly into "Breathe", but I was hooked. I devoured the rest of the album, from the passionate vocals and haunting piano from "The Great Gig In The Sky" to the mellifluous guitar chords and cerebral verses of "Brain Damage". From there, I eagerly sought out the rest of the Pink Floyd canon. I have found that while most of their albums are great in their own, distinct right, none of them quite evokes that same sense of emotional urgency that Dark Side did the first time I heard it. Well some might think I bemoan this fact, I absolutely do not. Better to have one album that does this fantastically, than to have a whole bunch that try to live up to this standard and do so poorly.