... from my time as an art student in the early seventies:
I think we were all very lucky to be young then, but we weren't aware just how lucky we were. Now everything's been turned to shit and we must earn our keep and fight for what we know to be decent, right and proper.
Looking at Pink Floyd on YouTube I came across this:
Just keep taking the drugs ladies and gentlemen, everything is under control, and I keep thinking 'drugs, drugs, drugs and more drugs, and alcohol, and a great deal more alcohol, and then more, and then put the politicians up against the wall and they won't need any drugs of any sort again, and nor shall we'. It's all under control, so don't you worry your little heads about a thing. But there are people who worry and they are themselves a worry simply because they worry and we can all do without worries so what do we do with those people? The answer is that we drink less and we don't smoke and we don't take drugs and although they don't stop worrying, and they don't go away, they can rest assured that we are healthier because they have worried. And that's all that counts to worriers: not what we worry about; merely what we do that worries them.
Fuck them!
Monday, 12 January 2009
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2 comments:
Almost forgotten? Not in this gaff, squire. I listen to Meddle more than I listen to Dark Side, always have. But Wish You Were Here remains the gold standard of classic-era Floyd.
I burned a copy of Meddle for a friend last year who complained she'd lost her vinyl copy and hadn't heard the album for 15 years, so you are not alone.
I cannot remember which of Dark Side of The Moon and Wish You Were Here was released last but whichever it was it was the last Pink Floyd album that I really liked. A depressing number of really good bands seemed to go into decline after about 1973/4.
The LPs that I have always regretted selling are Split, by The Groundhogs, Rocking The Fillmore, by Humble Pie and Electric Ladyland, by Hendrix. I ought to have hung on to the first four Led Zeppelin albums and Emerson Lake and Palmer but they've gone the way of nearly every piece of vinyl I bought.
I really must stop blogging while swilling down stout. I don't drink enough to get drunk but nine half-litre bottles is enough to suppress my critical faculties sufficiently for me to publish the tosh that I write.
Thanks for your comment and how delightful, and surprising, to see you here.
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