When I was 13 years old, I didn't really care about music. I didn't listen to the radio, I didn't have any CDs, it just wasn't something I concerned myself with. But one day, for a reason that I don't at all remember, I went looking through my dad's modest rack of CDs. Way down at the bottom I found this one CD case that was way bigger than the others. I pulled it off the shelf, and it was all covered in dust. I could tell right away it was something different. All the others that I'd looked at had been a picture of some man or woman posing for a picture, with their name written up in the corner, or some strange photograph that made no sense. But this CD just had a bunch of lines drawn across a white surface, with the words
Pink Floyd The Wall scrawled down on it. It didn't even look centered!
Intrigued, I opened up the case. I saw a booklet and a couple of discs. Skimming through the flimsy little paper that made up the liner notes, I tried to decipher the words that just seemed to be jotted down here and there, all over the pages. With my interest piqued, I went into my parents' bedroom and put the first disc in their old tape deck/CD player combo.
That's when it all changed.
From the very start I was blown away. I'd never heard anything like this, never even IMAGINED these types of sounds could exist. Even after I'd heard them I had no idea what to think of any of it. Who IS this man, and what is he talking about? Disguises, sound effects, shows? Why is there an AIRPLANE in this music? And now a baby? Who are these children, why are they singing? Are they in the band too? I got through that disc twice before I remembered - there was MORE! Moving quickly, I switched out the CDs and listened to the second disc, with the same basic result (amazement and sheer confusion).
I listened to that album more times than I can even begin to imagine. I was always playing it. I dragged an old CD player into my room so that I could always listen to it. I'd listen to it while I read, while I slept, while I did my homework. I was completely enthralled with The Wall, and everything it had to offer me. It was such a strange sensation, to be so entertained by nothing more than SOUND, but I loved it. Every track, every lyric, every note of that music was nothing less than pure perfection in my mind.
At some point, it occurred to me that Pink Floyd was a band. Bands had MANY albums, not just one! There might be more of this music, just waiting for me! At this point, my memory goes fuzzy, largely because everything happened so quickly. It was just this huge, massive snowball effect. I explored Pink Floyd's music, which eventually branched me out into the entire world of music that I now enjoy. I owe my entire musical taste to Pink Floyd, because with a different starting point, who knows where my tastes would be right now? They taught me early on that music didn't have to sound like everything on the radio, that it didn't have to have some structured sound, and I've kept that sentiment with me ever since.
Today, their keyboardist
Richard Wright passed away of cancer.
A couple years ago, when
Syd Barrett died, I was a bit down in the dumps. He had such a large influence on Pink Floyd's later music, and he made some great music in his own right. But I've never felt the same way about
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn as I do about their later work. I love all things Floyd, but I've always felt as if I could live without Syd's direct contributions if I had to. And more than that, he was out of the picture for so long. His name had reached such a mythical status within the band's history, that when the man himself died, it was almost as if it didn't really
matter. Syd himself seems to have been destined to become a footnote, with his influence being another matter altogether. And influence can't die.
Last Tuesday, a person I knew took his own life. Stephen always struck me as a happy guy. He was tall, with goofy hair, and he walked around with a big smile on his face, all the time. Always cracking jokes, always making people laugh. He was just a fun guy to be around. I wasn't particularly close to him, so I'd be lying if I said his death had a large effect on me. But it was just so strange, so unexpected. Still now, a week later, I see no reason, no explanation, and looking back I don't see any warnings, any foreshadowing of what was to come. Is our state of mind truly so fragile as to be so wholly disrupted, and so quickly? Or are we just good at hiding it?
When I found out the news this afternoon of Rick's death, I was listening to an album by
Alice in Chains.
Dirt, to be exact. I was about halfway through the album, and someone messaged me and told me. I was in a daze, I think, although the reasons for that are only now becoming clear. I decided to switch on
Wet Dream, an album I hadn't listened to in quite a while. From there I went to
Wish You Were Here, to a bootleg of what was to be their final performance as a four-piece band, their 4-song set at Live 8 2005. I guess I did this as some sort of tribute to Rick, some way of 'honoring' him and his memory. A nice gesture, I suppose, although ultimately a fruitless one.
It did get me thinking, though. It got me thinking about my adamant promise to myself, made right after I watched Pink Floyd take their televised bow at Live 8, that if those four men ever played together again I would be there no matter what it took. It got me thinking about how their music no longer sounds the same to me; while it was once full of wonder and amazement, I've now become spoiled with so many sounds and visions that I don't feel as if I fully appreciate them anymore. It got me thinking about how similar my response to the deaths of both Rick and Stephen have been. Two people, neither of whom had any true impact on me in life, but both of whom appear to be doing exactly that in death.
A 65-year old man, a member of one of the most famous rock bands of all time, a multi-millionaire, happily married with children. An 18-year old guy with his whole life ahead of him, plans for the future, friends who cared about him. Such different people, whose lives ended at such different points, and yet both within a week of one another. Two people whose paths were crossed not with one another, but at a shared point on a third path. Mine.
When I look at myself, at my life, what I see is fairly normal (I think). As far as music goes, I have a tendency to appreciate catharsis, which may not be the healthiest thing in the world, but I always enjoy regular doses of good, unassuming fun. As for everything else, I'm not exactly the happiest guy in the world, but I'm not in some depression, either. And I may not be the most easygoing guy you'll ever meet, but I'm not some bitter, pissed off dude looking for a fight. And even though I may pass up some opportunities out of fear, anxiety, self-doubt, or any number of other reasons, I'm also at a point in my life where those opportunities will likely come around again.
I feel as if sometimes things happen around us that are designed to make us take a good, hard look at ourselves and make sure we're who we want to be. I think it's easy to become so wrapped up in our own thoughts that we neglect to keep track of our outer life. I think that's what this was, because that's what it's helped me to do. I see the effects that both of these people had on me in life and in death, I see my reactions to each. As for what it means, well, that might take a while. I guess this journal can be summed up pretty easily, though. Thank you, Rick. Thank you, Stephen. You're both keeping me in check, whether you know it or not.
Shine on.
(It's become clear to me now that this journal entry wasn't really written for anyone other than myself, and that it veered very far off its original course, so if it totally weirded you out I hope you feel no obligation to reply. Still, I find it helpful to sometimes transfer my thoughts to others like this, in an organized way. I think it helps me keep myself straightened out, which is definitely something I need on a regular basis. I can be a pretty scatter-brained person.)
2. Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon (243) 
