On the Run
How Pink Floyd helped Johnny V stay afloat, defeat his demons, and see the world through new eyes.
Most of Johnny's On The Run columns have dealt with a journey to a definable Floydian 'place', with Pink Floyd as the soundtrack. But life, it has been said, is a journey, and this time, On The Run is a journey inward to an intangible place, with Pink Floyd providing a soundtrack. --ed.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I find myself once again drawing a blank in terms of a place to visit that fits the "Pink Floyd Unplugged" theme. Sure, I would love to go sit in Grantchester Meadows and write this article, and while being unemployed means I have the time, it also means that I don't have the money. The Spare Bricks staff had tossed the idea to me that I go visit KQED studios, where Floyd performed "Grantchester Meadows" in 1970. Yes, it was a stretch, but it at least somewhat ties into this issue's theme. Alas, it was not to be. Thanks to the events of September 11, the whole world is on guard, and KQED would not grant me a tour. In fact, the person I talked to had no idea Pink Floyd had ever set foot in the studio. So it was back to the drawing board.
September 2001 was a horrid month. In addition to the world events, I had a lot of personal sh*t go down as well. A friend, knowing I was stumped for a column topic, asked me, "Did you listen to Floyd to get you through last year?" Well, yes, of course I listened to Floyd. Pink Floyd is unquestionably my favorite rock band of all time, and although I don't listen to them exclusively, they are the band that I always find myself going back to. They have been with me through the highs and lows of my life, so yes, last September I found myself listening to a lot of Pink Floyd. And by the purest of coincidences, it was the acoustic side of Floyd that I seemed to have favored. Something about an acoustic guitar or a grand piano reaches deeper into my soul than any other instrument.
You want the Reader's Digest version of what I experienced last September? OK, sure, why not? I feel like I should be laying back on a shrink's couch now. First off, the girl that I had been interested in and seeing more and more of decided that "it just isn't right" and in a multi-day tear-fest, called it off. Not more than a week later, my truck was rear-ended on the freeway.
Then, on the night of September 10, I received a phone call that a close friend had died in a car wreck while working on a film shoot in Bulgaria. So I was already a bit numb when I woke up the morning of September 11, before I had even heard the news. In fact, I was in my car heading to work to tell my boss that I needed to take the day off to be with my deceased friend's husband when I turned on the radio and heard about the World Trade Center attacks.
As a result of the worldwide heightened security brought on by the attack, it would be a while before her body could be flown back here to the US for a proper funeral, and we were left in limbo as to when the funeral would happen. On Wednesday, September 19, we received word that her body was en route to the US and that the funeral would finally happen that Saturday. Then, on Friday, September 21, my entire department at work was closed down thanks to the "genius" of Clear Channel, and we were all laid off. But my head couldn't even digest the loss of an 8-year job because the next day was the funeral.
Now, I'm not pining for sympathy here, but I think you might agree that that's a lot to deal with in 4 weeks' time. Thankfully, there is Pink Floyd, and their music was possibly my main external tool in coping with what seemed to be an endless line of crap. It is quite possible that, by lying back on my couch and listening to Pink Floyd, I saved myself from snapping. I mean, I think everyone has a boiling point where he or she just can't take it anymore, and last September mine was put to the test. Now, I'm not saying that Pink Floyd's music made everything all right and rosy, but it gave me the auditory escape I so desperately needed at the time. For example:
Mother do you think she's good enough for me
Mother do you think she's dangerous
Tell me
Mother will she tear your little boy apart
Mother will she break my heart?
You know that point in a developing relationship when the two of you have that first real "talk"? That's just about where I was with my girlfriend when she had the realization that this wasn't a good idea. More often than not, I've found The Wall to be the album that I put on at a time like this, and this time was no exception. In this state of post-breakup depression, I identify with the array of emotions that Pink goes through on the album. And while I'm normally a "side 3" fan, this time I went right to "Mother." I think the acoustic guitar in this song is comforting, it's calming, and it immediately says, "relax". With the subtle angst in Waters' voice calling out for help and the assuredness of Gilmour's "Hush now baby, don't you cry" response, I could relax a little, and try to focus on the knowledge that sooner or later I'd get over this and everything would be fine. Pink Floyd. It works...
At this point, I stopped writing. It was 11:30pm Thursday night. I stepped away from this increasingly-personal column for an entire week.
OK, so I just re-read the last line I wrote. "Pink Floyd. It works..." I guess I intended to finish the sentence, but as I sit here reading it a week later, I like it as is.
"Pink Floyd. It works."
Is that a bumper sticker waiting to happen or what? If you make one, please make two and send me one!
ACOUSTIC PINK 1 |
Paint Box ACOUSTIC PINK 2 A Pillow Of Winds |
Recently, I put together a two-CD collection of what I think is almost all acoustic Floyd. I titled it Acoustic Pink. In selecting the songs, the criteria were simple: it just had to "feel" acoustic. Oh yeah, baby, "acoustic" is indeed a feeling too! It's laid-back but intense, mellow but ferocious, light but with depth. So, I started with the earliest stuff and worked my way forward. I may have missed some along the way, and I ended up cutting some of the later material that I had in order to fit it all on two discs.
Looking at disc two, I realize that I've fudged a bit. I know a song like "On The Turning Away" isn't all that acoustic, but the opening verses are such classic Floyd, with the simple acoustic guitar strumming, that it holds the acoustic feel for me throughout the song. Likewise for "Hey You" and "Poles Apart." The "feel" is all there. Incidentally, my favorite moment on Delicate Sound Of Thunder is the last verse of "On The Turning Away" sung a cappella, again reinforcing the acoustic "feeling."
As for the last song on Acoustic Pink 2, well, I originally had it on disc one but, even with an 80 minute CD-R, I had to cut something. So I decided, in the spirit of Floyd's latest release, Echoes, in which "Bike" adds a little punchline to the otherwise heavy end of "High Hopes," I would have "A Spanish Piece" follow the more sorrowful "Lost For Words."
As good as disc two is, I love disc one! It just might become my new favorite Floyd disc in my collection. Very instrumental, very obscure, plus it represents my favorite era for Pink Floyd--post-Syd, pre-Dark Side. Coincidentally, this period sees the most extensive use of acoustic guitar. Maybe not so coincidentally. Maybe I do have a subconscious gravitation to that comfort of the acoustic feeling.
After listening to disc one, I am absolutely convinced that if the album Pink Floyd: Zabriskie Point had been released, it would have been their most acoustic album, their most instrumental album, and fairly high up on my preference list. The latter part of my disc one is a sort of Zabriskie Point Suite, and it's quite soothing. I'll tell ya, it makes me want to pack my truck with camping gear and head to Zabriskie Point right now. Uh oh. Do I do it? Should I? Oh boy. I have before. It's not all that far either. Wow, I really could. I don't have to work tomorrow, too. No one else would be out there. Death Valley is only about a 4-1/2 hour drive from here. Uh oh...
A Visit to Zabriskie Point
The weather was sensational. Winter is definitely the best time to visit Death Valley. It gets just the slightest bit chilly at night, but during the day I was clad in simple jeans and t-shirt and was fine. Although there was enough snow in the higher elevations to make me change my 4-wheeling plans, the valley floor proved to be just the escape I needed, and the ABSOLUTELY, CATEGORICALLY, 100% MOST AWESOME setting to listen to acoustic Pink Floyd! I don't know if these photos do the place justice. It's such a massive expanse of open desert. So flat, so desolate, so quiet.
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I put my headphones on and walked in several places. Badwater, Scotty's Castle, Ubehebe Crater, and of course, Zabriskie Point. I can't properly explain what it is about acoustic music in the desert that seems so appropriate, but acoustic Pink Floyd music was truly remarkable. Both discs provided all kinds of aural enhancement to the surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place or inappropriate.
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And for the first time, I was finally able to hear the little bit of violin from Stephane Grappelli at the end of "Wish You Were Here". It's real quiet, but it's there all right. That was a great moment. I was at my campsite, late at night, had a fire going, had just finished eating a steak and potato cooked in the open fire, had a decent buzz going; feeling very content all around. "Wish You Were Here" plays, and sure enough, right at the last seconds, there's this one, quick little violin fill I'd never heard before.
On the highway that skirts Death Valley's floor, there's a sign that indicates you've just reached Sea Level. I stopped at the sign, donned the headphones, set up my chair, and with "Love Scene #1" playing, watched one of the most beautiful dusks I've ever experienced. I wasn't facing the sunset, but instead gazed out into the vast, almost endless desert terrain that makes up Death Valley's floor. This is a moment that I won't soon forget.
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It was therapeutic for me to go to Death Valley. It is a place I've been many times before, a sort of familiar retreat from the world. And in a way, Pink Floyd serves as a therapeutic, musical retreat to familiar themes, emotions, and sounds. Like I said, I always find myself coming back to them. Listening to Pink Floyd--especially acoustic Pink Floyd--has proven to be my remedy for pain and suffering. At my weakest, my most frustrated, my most sad, my most defeated moments in life, I turn to this music and find comfort and reassurance, and eventually the inspiration to pick up and carry on.
Pink Floyd. It works.