Pink Floyd in Madison '73 - in colour

Pink Floyd kicked off the tour for Dark Side of the Moon here in Madison on 4 March 1973. While I have never seen an audio recording of that show in general circulation, I now see that there are a couple videos from that show - high res scans of Super 8 film.

It is really neat to see and hear the tunes from Obscured by Clouds.

Song of the day, 3 April 2026

That Piper cat's something I can't explain

A little music to bake to

The recipe:

The ingredient:

In my head:

Civil Shrifting in the Cream City

Francis Bacon wrote:

A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castareum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.  

His words came to mind last weekend as I prepared to visit friends in Milwaukee. I wasn't going to have a lot of time there but I was determined to make the most of what I was allotted and that would include not only me imparting griefs, joys, etc. but also my friends doing the same. While I'd hoped to be able to see everyone I knew in the Cream City, a couple had to bow out due to a funeral out of town. Still, two thirds ain't bad.

It was a lovely, sunny Saturday afternoon when I got into Bay View. Traffic hadn't been bad and I made it to the home of a couple friends in good time. I found that they were waiting for me on their porch. One I've known since high school and her husband since they've been married. It had been a while since we'd seen one another so the hugs were generous and most welcome. They were experiencing their own trials and tribulations so we could commiserate.

After presenting them with their gifts - food from Madison, I was presented with a loaf of sourdough bread in embryo. It was rising. Leaving the dough to its own devices, we headed out to Seven Bridges Trail. It was a perfect afternoon for a walk.

While there were still some leaves hanging on until the bitter (cold) end, I suspect we had missed peak color by a couple weeks. That is, I had missed it. My friends had been here to witness Nature in its resplendent glory.

As we walked along, I got caught up on the vexations which plague them and I, in turn, told them of my divorce and my progress in creating a new life for myself. Many griefs, joys, fears, and hopes were exchanged. And then my friend told me that my wife had visited them back in August, a month or so after our divorce began. It did not go particularly well and I felt badly for them; I felt responsible despite not being so, not even knowing of the social call. Oh well. Hopefully there will not be a repeat.

The trail was gorgeous. My friends said that it had been sparsely populated on their last visit but this day it had people everywhere. It lies on the shores of Lake Michigan and had a rather nice beach which I bet is well used during the summer months. 

As we walked along the shoreline, my friend noted that we weren't too far from where the body of Sade Robinson had been found. The 19 year-old had been murdered by a sick fucker named Maxwell Anderson who also dismembered her body.

Despite the horrific tale, it was a relaxing walk and we got caught up on one another's lives. Ever since my divorce began I've been wanting to draw my friends close, to be deeply present and deeply in their presence, and to savor their company like a fine wine. This was a very nice start to the weekend.

The walk also had the effect of giving us all a thirst and so it was off to the newly-reopened St. Francis Brewery.

The brewery closed back in 2019 but had been resurrected this spring - how fitting. I adored their Lust, a Weissbier, back in 2015 and wondered if it was still available. 

I began with a Krug of their Festbier which was very tasty with a toothsome maltiness and just enough hops for balance. While supping and snacking our conversation on the trail continued on barstools. I gave them an idea of the location of my new abode and the details surrounding my hasty exit from the marital residence. In turn, I heard more about their situation and how difficult waiting for resolution was on them.

My second brew was their Hefeweizen, Held Up Hefe. It too was very tasty but had a lighter mouthfeel than Lust. New owners, new recipe, I suspect.

Evening had arrived and we set out to find dinner. We settled on the Vanguard Bar which had vegetarian options aplenty for my friends as well as carnivorous ones for me. On the way there, a couple other friends of mine texted saying that they had returned from the funeral early and were available to get together. Wunderbar! I replied that we were going to eat and that I'd let them know when we were done.

Stepping into the bar we found the place to be packed. We had a 20-minute or so wait for a table. The TV screens had Pink Floyd live from Saint Tropez in 1970 playing but it was Whitney Houston that emanated from the speakers.

I had a bratwurst with onion, sport peppers, and spicy kraut. My friends ordered fries, fried tofu with a ginger-garlic glaze, and a salad of some kind. Everything was delicious but the fried tofu was perhaps the star of the meal with its glazed umami overload.

And the beer was cheap. $6 for a pint of Spotted Cow. Other beers were equally affordable.

With dinner done, I text my friends that we were on our way to the Blackbird Bar which is the tavern of choice of basically everyone I know in Milwaukee. As with the Vanguard, the place was packed. The crowd here was younger, though, and I spied a couple women whose breasts threatened to spill out of their tops. The game was afoot!

We found a few seats at the end of the bar and continued chatting. After a short while, my other friends showed up. We'd not seen one another since May and so their hugs were most welcome. It was simply wonderful to be with all these friends whom I don't get to see often. Even more special than normal. I felt so comfortable and wanted. A couple of them had met before but that was back in 1991 during our college years at a Halloween party that lives on in infamy. They reacquainted themselves with ease.

All too soon our ages showed and we headed out for the comfort of a couch. I was staying at my friends' place and took up position on the love seat while they the couch. We listened to music, supped beers, and chatted away about everything. A wonderful time. They introduced me to the music of Ngozi Family, a Zambian band from the 1970s.

The next morning one of my friends was out the door early to teach her yoga class. For my part, I was to meet up with some other friends to hang out in a sauna before enjoying the cool waters of Lake Michigan at Hot Spell Sauna.

Before then, I hung out with my friends' cats. 

My other friend woke up and we hung out for a short while before I was picked up. I hadn't seen this friend or her husband in a while so I found myself full of joy at being in the company of the remaining folks I know in Milwaukee. My friend has been enjoying the sauna for a while and I couldn't turn down her invitation to join her even if it was only just above the freezing mark outside.

The morning was sunny and clear, if cold, as we pulled into McKinley Marina which the sauna called home. My friend's husband had never been there and I took comfort in not being the only person for whom this was the first time.

A couple portable saunas were set up on the lakeshore next to the boat launch. The idea was that you would spend some time in the heat and then zip down the ramp and into into the lake.

We went into the sauna and I think we all started sweating immediately in the 200+ degree heat. But it felt good. The occasional dose of water on the coals got my nose burning even more as the steam entered my nostrils.

Sitting in the steamy heat, the three of us chatted about life - divorce and kids, for example - for a spell and then it was time to get into the water. We wandered around the fence and made our way down the boat ramp. The second my feet hit the water a shiver went up my legs and I could feel, as George Costanza said, shrinkage. It was freezing!

We waded in deeper. It didn't take long for my legs to go numb. No fancy neoprene accoutrements here; just a swimming trunks and Crocs. I was able to make it in about navel high before retreating. Once out of the water, I felt very good despite the sub 40 degree temps and a moderate wind as I didn't feel the wind's chill; rather it was a revivifying briskness. 

This hot and cold pattern was repeated throughout our 75 minute session. It was absolutely exhilarating!

Afterwards I was invited back to my friend's place for breakfast and more banter. I got to see her kids who had grown quite a bit since I'd last seen them. In addition, I was treated to some highly tasty Anodyne coffee from Sprocket Cafe. And I met their über-friendly hound, Izzy. Look at dem ears! 

All too soon it was time to go and I got dropped off at my other friends' place where I found them relaxing on the couch with the Packers game on the TV. I headed home after the game had finished and we had chatted away even more.

I made it home with a lovely loaf of sourdough in tow.

But also a couple paintings done by my friend that he generously gave to me to decorate the walls of my new place.

What a glorious weekend! I got to see, hug, and chat with every one of my friends in Milwaukee (they are all denizens of Bay View, curiously enough). It was great to be in their company when talking instead of having conversations mediated by a phone. Their hugs were wonderful and just being with them was so invigorating, so needed. In addition to discharging the swellings of the heart, simply being in their presence put me at ease and made my cares seem far away. I am very lucky to have them in my life.

Set the Controls for a Jaunt with the Faun

A month or so ago I noticed that Faun Fables was scheduled to play here in Madison. While I was completely unfamiliar with their music, I had heard of them as Nils Frykdahl of Sleepytime Gorilla Museum is a member. As his significant other Dawn McCarthy. For this tour two of their daughters would be joining them.

And then just a few days before the show I saw that H.R. Britton and Bucky Pope would be opening. I know Bucky a little but had never heard of Britton. The description at the venue's site included that he is "a storyteller, actor, educator, and musician" and that "He creates full-length solo storytelling shows". Interesting. Maybe we'd get an abbreviated half hour storytelling opening set.

Before showtime I went to the bar for a refill and met Bucky who was chatting with local drummer extraordinaire, Dan Hobson. I said hello and turned around to find Nils Frykdahl at the bar next to me. I was surrounded by musos.

Britton began the show with a solo acoustic performance.

He announced that he would be doing a set of Pink Floyd songs from 1967-1970. Now that I did not expect. Furthermore, it would be an anti-storytelling set as he said that he'd refrain from any banter between the songs. Let the music prevail.

"Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun" worked really well even without percussion. I thoroughly enjoyed the set but was slightly disappointed that there was no storytelling to be had. I mean, it seemed to be his raison d'être, after all.

Bucky was up next and took to the stage wielding his guitar while his pal Saul grabbed an acoustic bass. (He would later wield an acoustic guitar.) Apologies to Saul for capturing only a sliver of his face.

I didn't recognize any of his songs but I enjoyed them, especially one called "Jaunty Larkabout" or something like that. Before leaving the stage he mentioned that he would be performing with Mothballs the following weekend.

Faun Fables took the stage. Frykdahl was clad in 90s era cargo shorts while McCarthy and their daughters - I never did catch their names - wore what I guess you'd call peasant dresses.

 

 

Their music was described as avant-folk and I wondered what this retro-rural look presaged.

 

Frykdahl played electric guitar but it was used for rhythm and color, to abet acoustic guitar and McCarthy's fantastic voice. Their daughters were great singers as well. There was some basic percussion plus occasional woodwind and keys. Songs usually had a basic beat with voice and other instruments laid on top.

Some of the songs had a very ethereal feel that reminded me of some newer Celtic folk music while other songs were more straightforward in their folkiness. The daughters did a little performance for one song. Or was it two?

An excellent show! I really enjoyed Faun Fables with all of their folky, pagan vibes. But the songs should not be shortchanged. They were great. Wonderful melodies and some gorgeous singing. 

It Rained Down on Me

I have some memories of buying The Division Bell, which was released on this day in 1994, and bringing it home. It was good to see that Rick Wright and Nick Mason had more prominent roles, including five writing credits for Wright. The album sounded a bit more like their mid-70s stuff as opposed to A Momentary Lapse of Reason which couldn't be mistaken for anything but a product of the mid-80s.

One of my favorite songs from The Division Bell was and remains "Take It Back". I was thrilled to hear them play it when I saw the band on a rainy Sunday, 3 July 1994, here in Madison. And here it is.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 119: Hark Chazen, hark!

(Watch the prelude.)

(late March 2024)

The past couple of months have been up and down. My Frau’s chronic pain problems have gotten steadily worse. Add in some food allergies that have suddenly appeared and she is depressed and often in a rather foul mood. I suppose I cannot blame her, though. If I had to endure what she does, I’d probably be in a bad mood most of the time too.

Because of her suffering, I’ve been largely sticking close to home. She doesn’t like to go out very much and I want to be close by her instead of gallivanting around town. Well, most of the time.

Last month I went down to the Chazen Museum of Art to check out their exhibition called “Art of Enterprise: Israhel van Meckenem’s 15th-Century Print Workshop”.

van Meckenem was a German goldsmith and printmaker from Bocholt. Today the city is in northwestern Germany but I am not sure what state or principality it belonged to 500 years ago long before there was such a thing as a country called Germany. A placard at the exhibit described him as “a fifteenth-century media influencer and entrepreneur.” I found the application of the rather new meaning of “influencer” to a medieval figure to be cringe-worthy. Perhaps it is not altogether wrong but the phrase conjures in my mind images of scantily clad young women offering their opinions on a disposable, mass-produced something or other made in China as their breasts threaten to burst from their restraints.

Using his goldsmithing skills, van Meckenem created engravings and became the first printmaker to use his own name as a brand, often copying the works of others and pawning them off as his own after some alterations.

For example, here’s a print called The Promenade by the legendary artist of the Northern Renaissance, Albrecht Dürer:

And here is van Meckenem’s reimagining which retained the title: 

Apparently only a small number of his actual engravings survive and a handful were on display.

Here’s a print where you can see his initials rather easily:

That “I.M.” became a brand, of sorts, and he would go on to mass produce his prints. Well, as mass produced as you could get in the second half of the 15th century.

The exhibit drew parallels between van Meckenem’s appropriation of others’ works in a pre-intellectual property age and the situation today where the concept of intellectual property struggles against digital technologies which make it a snap to coopt the work of others and repurpose it.

It would have been interesting to know what the people whose works he copied thought of his appropriation. Flattered? Or perhaps they were aggrieved at the theft. Did the original artists view it as just how human culture gets propagated or resent loss of prestige and income? Speaking of income, did the folks who bought these prints mistake van Meckenem’s (unsigned) works for Dürer’s?

A neat exhibit which indulged my love of all things medieval.

********

In February some of A24's movies returned to theaters in celebration of St. Valentine's Day. The Lighthouse is a love story - kinda sorta. I mean, it features two characters who, I suppose you could say, have feelings of some kind towards one another and the film details their relationship. It quickly became one of my favorite movies of all-time back in 2019 and I jumped at the chance to see it on the big screen once again.

The first time I watched The Lighthouse I was mesmerized by the stark black & white cinematography and took in the period dialogue and all the weirdness and just let the whole thing wash over me in an impressionistic kind of way. I didn't worry about plot details too much and just allowed the eldritch mood sink into every pore. On this viewing I would try to pay more attention to all the crazy stuff and figure out how everything fits together. Well, I could try, anyway.

The film opens with a ship out in rough waters. It brings two lighthouse keepers, a.k.a. - wickies, Ephraim Winslow and Thomas Wake to an island somewhere off the coast of New England. The two keepers they're replacing walk past them without so much as making eye contact. It's as if Winslow and Wake aren't even there. The outgoing men each hold onto one handle of a chest between them while Winslow and Wake carry only their own gear. Arriving at the lighthouse, the fresh replacements stop at the door and stare at the camera briefly as if they were having their portrait taken. It's an unexpected moment of breaking the fourth wall and it had a vague Wisconsin Death Trip vibe to it.

In certain ways and most proximately, the film is about, as George Steiner put it, one of the "principal constants of conflict in the condition of man", namely the conflict between age and youth. Wake is the veteran wickie while Winslow is a newbie. The grizzled Wake walks with a limp and unabashedly farts whenever and wherever he cares to. He wastes no time in putting his young protege to work doing the dull, repetitive, and sometimes physically demanding maintenance tasks. This involves things such as lugging large cans of kerosene up from the ground floor to the area just beneath the lantern room as well as painting the exterior of the lighthouse while sitting in a swing dangling over the side with only Wake's steady hand keeping him aloft. (Tellingly, Wake agitates Winslow so much that he falls from the swing.) Basically everything but dealing with the lamp. Wake makes it perfectly clear that the lantern room is his domain and his alone.

Winslow finds a mermaid scrimshaw tucked into a rip in his mattress. A simple token left by his predecessor? Or perhaps a talisman? Either way things get weird really quickly. He notices that Wake likes to wander the lighthouse's gallery deck free from the burden of clothes when he tends to the lamp. And then the mentee has visions of a mermaid. In addition, he is plagued by a one-eyed seagull.

I paid closer attention to Wake's dialogue this time around and I noted just how prescient it was. At one point Winslow asks Wake what happened to his predecessor and the elder wickie tells him that the man went mad. He ranted about merfolk and thought that the light was enchanted. The men struggle to get along even at dinner and it is during one of these meals that Wake gives his classic curse on Winslow. The scene never fails to send a shiver down my spine.

"Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK! Hark Triton, hark!"

In it he mentions "Black waves teeming with salt foam", something Winslow has seen. Wake describes Triton "crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard", a vision that Winslow shall have later. Wake also mentions Winslow's viscera being for "the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon", he having explained that the souls of dead sailors inhabit the seagulls, and that is how the film ends.

Director Robert Eggers and his brother Max wrote a fantastic screenplay that at once puts Winslow's decent into madness on display but never fully explains why he does so nor ever absolves Wake. Did the grizzled veteran leave that mermaid mojo in the mattress? Is it responsible for Winslow losing touch with reality as he claimed? Or has his mental state been adversely affected by deadly combination of Wake's antagonism along with the intense isolation?

The imagery of the film is great with a black & white pall hanging over everything and shadows everywhere. I also adored that scene that illustrates Winslow in the grip of madness and him blaming Wake for his predicament. Winslow comes across a body on the gallery deck and, upon turning it over he finds it is himself. (Echoes of Genesis' The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway here for me. "Something's changed, that's not your face/It's mine, it's mine!") We then quickly cut to that scene based on the 1904 painting, "Hypnosis", by Sascha Schneider. In the film, a naked Wake looms over a kneeling Winslow as a beam of light emanates from his eyes and illuminates the face of his youthful assistant. But they are on the land somewhere, not high above on the lighthouse.

Oh, and I also noticed that homage to The Shining where we see Wake, axe in hand, running after Winslow just like Jack Torrence in a very Kubrickian tracking shot.

Sitting in the theater, I found myself at times caught up in trying to link Wake's dialogue to events onscreen and note Kubrickian flourishes. But I couldn't help myself from getting lost in the film's atmosphere - the sense of impending dread and the horror of witnessing Winslow lose his grip on reality. The antiquated dialogue, the sepulchral texture of the film, and the boxy aspect ratio which gave the film a cramped verticality instead of the breathing space of widescreen - all lured me in hook, line, and sinker.

********

OK, onto something more pleasant – food.

Because it was winter, I needed something hearty like gołąbki soup.

It turned out pretty well and I think my babcia would have been proud. For dessert I continued my cooking dalliance with rye and made rye chocolate chip cookies with cardamon.

I was combining a couple different cookies recipes here and I think that I needed to adjust the flour to liquid ratio a bit and to also use fewer chocolate chips. At the end, a bunch of them were strewn about at the bottom of my mixing bowl along with some small clumps of dough.

Having said that and noting that they don’t look perfect, I will say that they tasted absolutely fantastic. That earthy rye flavor along with luscious dark chocolate accented by just the right amount of cardamom. Oh mama, they were good!

Continuing in a food vein, I want to show you something that someone brought into the office recently.

Rather than a simple sweet treat, it turned out to be a confectioner's version of Russian roulette. You give the spinner a whirl and then grab one of the beans with the appearance of the one in the spot that the arrow landed on. Let’s say it lands on the orange bean with red spots. With no small amount of trepidation, you grab one from the dish because you don’t know if it will taste like peach…or barf. Is that green one juicy pear or booger?

Good times at work.

********

March began with a trek down to our local planetarium.

On offer was a screening of the fulldome experience of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album. Back in 1973 there was a promotional event at the London Planetarium to celebrate its release where images of the cosmos were projected onto the screen as the shiny, new record was played.

But 50 years later a new set of images was constructed to be shown in planetaria along with the music. Although Madison’s planetarium isn’t as large as, say, the Adler in Chicago, it uses the same grade of projection equipment and it features surround sound courtesy of a new stereo system bought especially to accommodate the Dark Side of the Moon experience.

The place was packed with folks old and young alike. Looking around, I highly suspected that several of my fellow attendees, especially the ones with grey pony tails and beards, had smoked a joint and/or popped a tab of LSD before the show. My suspicions were proven correct on at least one count when I someone walked past me who smelled of a certain green, leafy substance.

The show looked a bit like this:

Dark Side of the Moon is not an album I listen to much these days as it was overplayed in my youth. I recognize it for the landmark that it is and adore some of the songs but there's just something too slick about it and too familiar. In some ways, I prefer the embryonic version of it that audiences in early 1972 heard at gigs such as this one. I miss the rough edges of earlier Floyd and the weirder tributaries they took me down on Meddle and Atom Heart Mother.

Regardless of my history with the band, the dome show was a hoot! The visuals were a blast and the surround sound was just great. It was neat to hear the voices so clearly – not the singing, but rather the voices of people answering various questions posed to them at the studio and that are interspersed throughout the album. For instance, at the end we hear Gerry O'Driscoll, the doorman at Abbey Road studios, say, "There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact it's all dark."

“On the Run” was the highlight for me with synthesizer patterns zipping around my head while the visuals went into manic overdrive as we went through a 2001-like stargate made of triangles and lights streaming headlong towards us. One of the great things about the program was that we all listened to an album from start to finish without the distraction of a phone or a computer screen. These days it seems that music is usually an accompaniment to other things we do, such as destroying our brains on social media, and not given the attention that it deserves. I just sat back and enjoyed the show and didn’t look to see if anyone had texted me and my email went unchecked throughout too. It was simply wonderful to get lost in the album - something I used to do rather often but now, sadly, I have to pay someone $25 and leave home to do it.

Here's the trailer:

 

 

On my way out, I stopped to buy a pair of solar glasses so I could observe next month's solar eclipse.

********

In the middle of this month I took a short vacation in Chicago. The occasion was to see the Bay Area band Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. I'd been aware of SGM for 15+ years but only ever ventured to listen to song or two every once in a while. I have no recollection of how I'd heard of them and I suspect that my first listen to their avant-garde heavy metal or whatever genre you think best classifies their music proved to be a bit more than I could chew and so I put investigating them further on indefinite hold.

I had no idea that they'd called it quits in 2011 when I read earlier this year that they had reunited and were going on tour once more with the closest stop in Chicago. And so I made the trek down to Lincoln Park on a Wednesday evening.

They were to play at Lincoln Hall, a venue I’d never been to, and so I booked a room at the Chicago Getaway Hostel just 3 blocks or so from the venue.

Stepping inside, I appeared to be the eldest guest as small groups of kids in their 20s were wandering the halls and hanging out in the lobby. My room was small and on the spartan side but that’s all I needed, really. It had a half bath which meant I’d be competing with other guests for a shower stall in the morning.

After dropping off my bag, I headed to Lincoln Avenue in pursuit of dinner. While I never spent a lot of time in the neighborhood, I would occasionally go to the Wax Trax! record store there with a friend back in the late 80s. Little did we know that Al Jourgensen and the rest of folks in the band Ministry were upstairs recording albums that would define the subgenre that is industrial metal. I don’t think the store is around anymore but I believe it was somewhere near Lincoln Ave. and Fullerton – right where I was that evening.

I ended up at a trendy Mexican place. My waitress had this odd habit which I’ve noticed in more than a few 20-something waitstaff: she replied to most things with “awesome”.

It was awesome that I was doing well that evening; it was awesome that I ordered an unsweetened iced tea to drink; it was awesome that I ordered a burrito to eat. It was just weird. English seems to have lost all words that express having a feeling of awe that actually have the letters a-w-e in them.

Just one store front down from the restaurant was the Biograph Theater and I hadn’t been there since I was a boy. A mural on the building next door noted the historic significance of the place.

Lincoln Hall is just across the street from the Biograph. The interwebs tell me that the FBI agents who shot Dillinger were lying in wait on its roof. These same interwebs also tell me that Lincoln Hall was called the 3-Penny Cinema back in the 70s when it made Chicago history by being the first joint in town to screen the infamous adult film, Deep Throat.

Today it’s a really nice little venue. Intimate but not cramped.

It reminded me of the High Noon Saloon here in Madison.

Two Chicago bands opened the evening: Dead Rider and Cheer-Accident. Both were good. Dead Rider was the odder of the two with guitarist/singer Todd Rittmann almost rapping once or twice and songs alternating between those with Rittmann playing some more straight forward licks with a flying-V guitar and those with a heavy synthesized rhythm track. Cheer-Accident had a fuller sound as it was more of an ensemble. They started off a bit on the heavy side but quickly changed gears as the horns kicked in with a blast of something vaguely like you'd get from a marching band to send the opening tune on a wonderfully crazy tangent. The band showed it was willing to throw in every twist and turn they could with a dose of lighthearted silliness.

Sleepytime Gorilla Museum took the stage in costume with some of the members donning face paint. I am only slightly more familiar with their music now than when I was at the show. Very slightly. But I was thrilled when they played "Phthisis", one of 2 or 3 of their songs that I actually know. While there were moments of peace with a bucolic sounding flute adding mellow vibes, most of the time these folks were rocking hard. (Pictures by Jeffrey McDonald.)

Bassist Dan Rathbun looked like Egon from Ghostbusters to me. For one song he played what looked like an oversized pedal steel guitar but I think it was a homebrew contraption consisting of a 2"x4" about 8 feet long with strings running the length and some C clamps acting as capos. He alternated sliding drumsticks along the strings and hitting them as if this weird instrument was made of piano viscera wrenched from the case.

Matthias Bossi and Michael Iago Mellender frenetically added all manner of percussion while Nils Frykdahl conjured aural chaos from his guitar as he spat out his vocals. Rounding things out was Carla Kihlstedt who sang and added her often martial sounding violin to the highly melodic pandemonium.

SGM’s set was usually heavy, often chaotic, and the band liked to fuse a classical ethos with a generous dose of industrial thrash setting the music off in different directions with tempos changing often. But there was always at least a sliver of a melody for me to hang onto. Their music is heavy and I can’t help but adore the drama of it all. There's an operatic quality to it, if we're talking about an opera based on the Book of Revelation.

It was a great show! The staccato beats of “Phthisis” were a real highlight for me. I just adore how the violin keeps a melody going underneath the thundering percussion and slashing guitar chords.
I hope they don’t go into hibernation once more as I’d love to see them again.

Their performance that night was recorded.

 

********

As winter was giving way to spring, I trekked out to my beloved Acewood Conservation Park to see how things were coming along.

Not exactly verdant but the snow was gone and the woods were alive with the sounds of red-winged black birds who had returned.

They held court in branches where they were hanging out with grackles.

In the water, Canada geese and mallards were leisurely swimming in the chilly water and occasionally took a break on the shore.

Despite the bare trees, there was the odd bit of life here and there on the ground.

Soon enough the arch would be decked with green.

********

Bonus photo! Here’s Piper looking all cute as she prepares for winter by shedding her warm weather coat on our couch.

 

 

(Listen to the postlude.)

How I wish I was there

Holy biscuits! Obscured by Clouds is 52 today. Superstardom arrived ere long and things were never quite the same. The last gasp of the old Pink Floyd, in a way. Or one of the old Floyds, at least.

This is "Childhood's End" by Nick Mason's Saucerful of Secrets live in Milwaukee back in 2019

They're lining up at Whole Foods

They were prepping free hot drinks and it looks like a DJ was getting ready to spin some tunes for the grand opening of the new Whole Foods. There was already a person in line at the "Line starts here sign".

What will the DJ play?

It's awfully considerate of you to think of me here

Recently there were a couple of screenings of Have You Got It Yet? The Story of Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd and of course I was in the audience for one.

The movie was co-directed by Roddy Bogawa, whom I’d never heard of, and Storm Thorgerson, friend of Syd Barrett (and Roger Waters) starting in childhood. Thorgerson, a graphic designer by trade, co-founded Hipgnosis which devised most Pink Floyd album covers plus countless others for a bevy of bands.

The movie is a typical mix of archival photos and film along with talking head interviews by the members of Pink Floyd – minus Richard Wright, and a variety of Barrett’s friends, former lovers, and his sister. Thorgerson is the interviewer here and, since he died in 2013, these interviews are likely 12 years old or thereabouts.

But this doesn’t really matter. Since he personally knew most of the people he talks to, the interviews are more like conversations and have an ease about them that most documentaries lack. They often come across as friends having a chat and reminiscing rather than someone investigating a subject and scrutinizing their interlocutor. No music journalists are consulted for an “objective” view and, aside from a couple television clips featuring Barrett on TV, all of the interviews seem to have been done just before Thorgerson’s death. This movie is a bunch of people who mostly know one another looking back at the days of their youth and mourning the loss of their friend, lover, brother.

Very early on, we are given orthodox rock history: Barrett took too much acid and it fried his brain so he had to leave Pink Floyd and become a recluse. We then get an account of our tragic hero's childhood and see him mature into a handsome young man who joins a band doing American blues and R&B songs. They abandon the trendy covers act and go their own way. Barrett re-christens the group Pink Floyd and the rest is history.

Friends gush about Barrett’s charisma and playfulness while fellow musicians can say nothing less about his musical and songwriting talents than he was simply a genius. Former girlfriends describe how they were attracted to his quirky personality. One of them says something to the effect of a goofy musician being a much more attractive proposition than a banker. So there’s an element of hagiography here.

But we also get some great early Floyd footage. Presumably the filmmakers were given access to people’s private collections of old 8mm or 16mm films from back in the day. I’m not intimately familiar with the extant Syd-era footage so perhaps the movie features stuff largely already available. Regardless, that scene of them playing “Astronomy Domine” with the psychedelic liquid projection and the lights, in color, no less, was just fantastic. Like most music documentaries, Have You Got It Yet? suffers from the we-can’t-play-a-whole-song syndrome. But I did appreciate that “Bike” got an extended examination.

In the latter part of 1967 Barrett started to lose it, I guess you’d say. One interviewee says that the burgeoning pop star simply didn’t want to be in the music business anymore, that the taste of fame he'd already had was enough. While I can certainly believe this, his behavior and eventual seclusion suggests there was more to it than that. He became withdrawn and undependable. At first, David Gilmour was brought in to augment the increasingly erratic front man but he would go on to replace him. I was happy that “Vegetable Man” and “Scream Thy Last Scream Old Woman With a Casket”, Barrett songs from his last days with the band, were brought up as I adore both of them.

He was kicked out of Pink Floyd in 1968 at the tender age of 22 and his recording career was done within a couple of years. I had no idea that he occasionally played gigs with other folks until 1974 or so but we find out that he did. The section of the movie where Barrett turns up at the Floyd’s recording session for Wish You Were Here in 1975 was heartbreaking.

At first, the band didn’t know who he was. Someone – I cannot recall whom – noted that he had a new still camera in the studio that day and took some photos of the revenant band leader in the control booth that I had never seen. We are told that Barrett picked up a guitar and strummed a bit as the band looked on, not quite knowing what to do or say.

Barrett lived the rest of his life painting and his sister says that he cared for him because he was unable to do so for himself. An ex-girlfriend vehemently denies the legend that people dosed Barrett’s coffee daily with LSD so that he ended up tripping all day. But, in the end, no one really knows what happened to Syd Barrett. While he did take a lot of LSD, we cannot definitively say that his usage caused a mental breakdown. Maybe it exacerbated another problem. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with it.

Near the end, Gilmour remarks that the guys in Pink Floyd did all they could for him but they were young. In a tender moment, he admits that he regrets not having gone to visit Syd despite Barrett’s family discouraging visitors.

Even though Have You Got It Yet? covered a lot of territory that was familiar to me, it was interesting to hear people relate tales of events that they were present at that I’d only read about. I loved seeing the old performance footage on a big screen with a good sound system. There is a brief clip of Pete Townshend talking about Barrett’s status in the London music scene and his influence on other musos. I do wish there was a bit more of this because Barrett's musical output is rather paltry so I’d love to hear more to better understand his outsized legacy. So much that is said about him relates to his tragic life instead of how his creative genius influenced others.

Lastly, watching this movie gave me the desire to really investigate Barrett’s solo albums, something I’ve never done.

From the Wisconsin Blogosphere: A Forgotten Town and Pink Floyd

A couple recent blog posts of note.

First is Ryan Urban's "Uncovering old Lehigh".

Ryan gives some history on the town of Lehigh which was up in Barron County. All that remains is a decaying schoolhouse.

"According to the 1976 book 'Barron County Schools Past and Present,' Lehigh was 'a Polish community. The school was the center of many of their activities, and the young people often took part in putting on plays and programs to raise funds for the Christmas program. Many of the students went on to become teachers, artists, successful businessmen and farmers.'"

Next is an encomium for Pink Floyd's Animals at The Aural Retentive.

He writes:

"I like to listen to 'Dark Side Of The Moon' on occasion, but for me, when I am in the place for some Pink Floyd… it’s 'Animals' all the way."

I listen to DSotM less frequently than he does but I agree - Animals is superior. (I wrote something similar earlier this month.)

The Dark Side of the Moon Hits the Big 5-0

A couple days ago marked the 50th anniversary of the release of Pink Floyd's biggest album, The Dark Side of the Moon. I have run into many an article online about the album's big 5-0 including news that Roger Waters is re-recording the whole thing for reasons that aren't clear to me. Here's a rather lengthy piece that looks interesting.

While I understand the album's importance and don't hate it, I much prefer other Floyd albums, especially Meddle. I've got a real soft spot for that one. The pre-Dark Side albums are more raw and weirder, which I appreciate. Floyd performed Dark Side live in 1972 as they were working on writing and recording it. I think it was being billed as "Eclipse: A Piece for Assorted Lunatics" at that point and I find this proto-version of the album to be better than the released version in certain ways. While unfinished, I enjoy the rough-around-the-edges feel. The polish isn't there. It sounds more like a descendant of Meddle rather than an AOR staple.

Another reason I tend to avoid it these days is that I simply heard it way too much in my youth. "Money" is a great tune, but I heard it countless times as a teenager and I just don't think it's that great. The song just isn't able to maintain my interest over time and after repeated plays unlike, say, "Fearless" or "One of These Days" or "Echoes" or...

Three days after the album's release, the tour in support of it started here in Madison.

Sadly, no recording of this concert has emerged. But they returned 15 years later and that show was recorded. And from that concert, here's "Us and Them", a song from Dark Side that does hold up over the years for me.

I never thought that you'd lose that light in your eyes

Back in 1994 I saw Pink Floyd here in Madison down on campus at Camp Randall Stadium. I went with my girlfriend at the time and, unfortunately, we didn't have particularly good seats. Afterwards, having sat through a show where I could barely see anyone on stage with none of them ever looking over at us in the cheapest of seats off to the side, I think I understood Roger Waters' concept of the wall a bit better. Still, there were some nice moments such as my surprise at "Astronomy Domine" opening the show (back when you could easily avoid setlist spoilers), "Take It Back", a favorite of mine from the then new album, The Division Bell, and "One of These Days", an oldie from 1971 which just plain rocks. Plus, a line from "Run Like Hell" got changed to "They're gonna send you back to Madison/In a cardboard box".**

I had high hopes that I'd get a chance to hear "Poles Apart", another new song from The Division Bell. It was played occasionally in the spring and summer so some recordings of it performed live exist but it was more or less abandoned come the autumn as the tour was coming to a close and the recording of a series of shows for the live album, Pulse, was done. During a lengthy stretch of October concerts in London, a full performance was broadcast live by BBC radio but "Poles Apart" was omitted from the setlist.

"Poles Apart" was one of the songs that I immediately took to upon first hearing The Division Bell. (I think the other was "Take It Back".) It opens with a gorgeous rolling acoustic guitar and is soon joined by some bass and keys. Before long the guitar settles into a gentle melody that reminds me of "Narnia" by Steve Hackett before the singing begins. I have always assumed the song was about Syd Barrett ("Why did we tell you then/You were always the golden boy") or Roger Waters ("Hey you/Did you ever realize what you'd become?") or perhaps both. There is a sense of regret in the song and I felt that the lyrics were those of a middle aged man looking back.

Before the last verse we are treated to a wonderful diversion. Out of nowhere comes this circus interlude, sounding something like a sullen "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" Its tone is set by bouncy organ-like keyboards that evoke lion tamers and acrobats and is completely out of place yet some somber strings mark this diversion as being improbably appropriate. Something redemptive follows with the lines "I thought of you/And the years and all the sadness fell away".

The song ends with an emotive Gilmour solo in the tradition of the one in "Comfortably Numb" and is a masterpiece in its own right. For the first year I lived with it, the solo gave the finale a wistful feel. But after the girlfriend with whom I saw Floyd sent me packing the following year, the song took on a more sentimental tone. Those final couple minutes seemed to go from a middle aged man feeling nostalgic to a post-apocalyptic scene where the last flower in existence is being plucked from the ground, a fragile beauty never to be seen again.

**Funnily enough, in another Shazam moment, until I listened a few minutes ago, I would have sworn that one of the "Hey you, out there in the..." bits from "Hey You" was changed to "out there in the rain" because it started pouring towards the end of the show. I have listened to 2 different recordings of the show and it just ain't there.

Pink Floyd's Animals is 44 today

Today is the 44th anniversary of the release of Pink Floyd's Animals. This is one of my favorite Floyd albums and, to my taste, their best after Meddle. It's got the proggy twists and turns but also a drive - an anger and perhaps even a bit of menace that not only fits in with the punk ethos of the time, but also was something new for their music.

Most of the album actually dates back to 1974 as the band were trying to figure out how to follow-up Dark Side of the Moon. A short tour of France in June '74 saw the debut of a song called "Raving and Drooling" which the world would come to know as "Sheep" two and a half years later. (An early version of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" was also performed on these dates.) Later that year Floyd toured England and "You've Got to Be Crazy", eventually to become "Dogs", joined the set.

For ages the only way to hear these early versions of the songs was via bootlegs. I'd heard them on recordings from the mid-November shows at Empire Pool (Wembley Arena) that, although taped from the audience, were of excellent quality. But in 2011 recordings of these songs were officially released by the band.

I really like "Raving and Drooling" with its persistent percussion and the soloing by Wright. It has a raw feel that harkens back to the pre-DSotM days and would certainly have been the black sheep of Wish You Were Here had it been included. On the other hand, "You've Got to Be Crazy" sounds like it would have fit on Wish You Were Here quite well. Less mayhem and anger plus the keyboards sound like other songs on that album.

In 2014, I believe it was, a bootleg started making the rounds called The Extraction Tapes, Vol. 1. Supposedly from Britannia Row Studios and recorded in June 1976, it contains in-progress versions of all the songs on Animals. (Also included are field recordings of sheep baaa-ing and some blues improvisation from their 6 July 1977 show in Montreal.) Sometimes a vocal is just a bit different than the album version while "Sheep" still has the lyrics from "Raving and Drooling" and some of the music which would later be excised. "Pigs on the Wing" hasn't been riven in twain yet and has an electric guitar solo, although I'm not sure if it's the same one that's on the 8 track version of the song.

To the best of my knowledge, Pink Floyd never played any songs from Animals after the In the Flesh tour of 1977. But Roger Waters has so here is "Pigs (Three Different Ones)" live from Milwaukee, WI on 29 July 2017.