Pink Floyd - The Wall

One of my earliest musical memories is of The Wall. My dad had a modest collection of records mostly by Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Thin Lizzy, and they sat very neatly in the unit the hifi lived on, rarely being played. I remember looking through them from a young age - mostly reading the spines but sometimes taking them out and looking at the sleeves. I have a few particular memories: being terrified of the "war pig" on the cover of Sabbath's Paranoid, not understanding why In Through the Out Door came in a brown paper bag and the terrifying cartoons inside the gatefold sleeve of The Wall. As far as the music goes, I distinctly remember Mother and it's slightly haunting lyrics (I think my dad used to sing it to us), as well as the school children on Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2, but little else.

Fast forward some years and I heard Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile for the first time, maybe a year or so after it came. It's probably too much of an over-statement to call that album my generation's The Wall, but double albums weren't really a thing, and I remember the endless comparisons to The Wall. That was a landmark moment in a lot of ways - the realisation that the music my dad listened to could influence the music I was listening to. In hindsight, it's obvious - those were some of the biggest bands of the decade and Black Sabbath basically made metal the awesome thing it is, but to a 16-year-old child, you just assume everything is always new, and not a constant reinvention of things from the past.

In January 2001 I bought a copy of the 1980 live recording of The Wall to add to my small collection of cds. Obviously between hearing The Fragile and then, I'd decided that Pink Floyd were a cool band that it was ok to like, and not some dad-rock band; my friend Matt who I walked to school with was a huge fan, so that maybe helped. That was how I properly got into Pink Floyd, but all the preamble is important; I'd been listening to Pink Floyd long before I even knew it.

Over the years I've seen Roger Waters a handful of times - Glastonbury 2002, Roskilde 2006 (where he played Dark Side of the Moon in full, more on that another time) and at the O2 Arena in 2011. That night deserves a special mention - in a brilliant combination of events, he was touring The Wall and playing a series of shows at the O2 that happened to coincide with my dad's 50th birthday, so I got us tickets to one of the nights. I think he'd seen Pink Floyd play it back in the day, or certainly had seen concert footage of the wall going up. Either way, I think we were both as excited as each other to see the album played out. By complete chance I happened to pick the same night where both Nick Mason happened to be in the crowd, as well as the night where David Gilmour fulfilled a promise to come on stage with Roger for Comfortably Numb; in Outside the Wall, for just a few moments, the three living members of Pink Floyd were reunited on stage to play together for what I think remains the last time and by complete chance we got to witness that. It was very cool.

The stage show was, of course, everything I imagined it would be - the wall gradually being built and the giant flying inflatables and the anti-war rhetoric projected onto the newly built wall. If The Wall teaches us anything, it's that if you're going to have a theme, you might as well to commit to it fully (aside from being over two discs and telling something of a story, the comparisons to The Fragile (or rather The Fragile to The Wall) fall away pretty quickly - Trent had no stage show like this). Being a moody teenager listening to The Wall was a strange experience, and quite grounding - clearly people had been having similar thoughts for a long time and I was in no way unique in emphasising with the idea of building a wall. Again, obvious in hindsight.

Musically, The Wall didn't hugely influence what I was listening to - beyond being guitar-based, it sounded nothing like the other bands I was into, and considerably poppier (or should I say radio-friendly, since the definition of pop has changed a million times since this was released). Very little of my collection pre-dates 1990, so it certainly didn't send me on a journey through 70's rock. But The Wall set new ideals of what I wanted from concept albums, and is probably part of the reason I have such a soft-spot for them. Albums are great, but albums that are tied together with a narrative are a whole step beyond; albums that feel like haphazard collections of songs where not even the music fits together do considerably less for me.

To list the highlights is to list most of the songs on the album - The Thin Ice, Another Brick in the Wall (all parts), Mother, Goodbye Blue Sky, Goodbye Cruel World (what a dangerously bleak lyric), Hey You, Comfortably Numb (not initially a favourite of mine but one I came to love - Roger's vocals in the chorus are perfect. Plus, you know, guitar solos), In the Flesh (with the backing singers providing the haunting "against the wall" lines), Run Like Hell, Waiting for the Worms (what a trio of songs) and The Trial wrapping everything up in a pinnacle of pomp and commitment to the theme. It's a truly remarkable album.

Anyway, this isn't my dad's copy of The Wall - this is one I picked up for a ridiculous 33p in a charity shop near my house in December, in what can only be called remarkable condition for an LP that's 40 years old - the vinyl is cleaner than some new vinyl I have (and sounds crystal clear) and the picture sleeves and gatefold all look incredible. One detail I'd never noticed before is the gradually increasing height of the wall over the four labels - a very nice touch.

I've rambled on for quite long enough (and I still have a side of vinyl left to go). We all know this is a classic, so I'll forgive you if you skimmed most of this.

Format: Double 12", gatefold, picture sleeves
Tracks: 26
Cost: £0.33 second-hand
Bought: Blue Cross charity shop, Kidlington
When: 01/12/18
Colour: Black
Etching: none
mp3s: none

Led Zeppelin - IV

Once upon a time, charity shops were a great place to find good old albums on vinyl. But long before the "vinyl revival" really kicked in, it seemed that either no one was giving away any good records, or the shops realised that they could get more for some of the better records by selling them online. And so, for most of the time I've been buying records, charity shops have not been the fruitful picking ground they used to be (for vinyl at least, I've consistently found gems on cds over the years and love buying something I might not usually because it was 50p in a charity shop).

On 1st December 2018, I found that rare treat - a newly arrived box of records in a charity shop that no one had had the good sense to send off to be sold online. In fact, it was three boxes of records from the 70's and 80's, all in incredible condition that I think had only just been dropped off. I immediately started trawling through them and was amazed to find the likes of Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan and Led Zeppelin. I asked the woman at the counter how much they were and to my amazement she replied "three for £1"! I'd struck charity shop gold. My heart was pacing a bit as I went through all three boxes and pulled out most of the Floyd and Zeppelin back-catalogues. I've been gradually working on those two back-catalogues on cd, but was more than happy to swap over to vinyl at those prices. There were two early REM albums and more Dylan than you could shake a stick at; I have a tricky relationship with Dylan, so only opted for The Times They Are A-Changin' (a classic by any measure) and At Budokan (to get a wide mix of stuff). There was also a Roger Walters solo album that I bought out of curiosity more than anything else - I don't think many Floyd fans consider having all the various solo albums an essential part of any collection.

Now is a good time to mention the slight guilt I felt at leaving the shop with 18 albums I'd just paid £6 for. A better person might have told them that these albums are worth considerably more than "three for £1" and offered to pay a few £ each. An even better person might have looked on Discogs, checked the details and seen that the copy of Animals by Pink Floyd was the Italian first edition and worth in the region of £30 alone - not a fortune, but quite a lot more than I was about to pay for it. I, however, am not a good person, it seems. I did leave a lot of records that probably had reasonable value - including a lot of Dylan albums and a Kraftwerk album in very good condition - I could have bought all these and sold them for profit; I'm not the worst person, but definitely occupying a place on the lower end of the ladder. When I went back a few weeks later, all of the records had gone, so either someone else had taken advantage, or they'd finally seen the value in shipping them off to be sold somewhere else.

A minor addition to this story (and possibly a factor in deciding exactly how much of a bad person I am) - the reason I was in the charity shop was because I'd taken the baby for a walk to the supermarket, but decided to swing by the local charity shops first. Whilst I looked through every LP in those three boxes, I periodically waved my spare hand in front of my daughter's face to make sure she wasn't getting too bored. I loaded up the pram with my LPs and rushed home, in my excitement entirely forgetting to actually go to the supermarket. "Did you get the shopping?" "Better than that..."

Anyway, this is a lot of waffling about things that aren't Led Zeppelin IV. I've been listening to Zeppelin for longer than I can remember as they're one of the bands my dad loved; I remember him once turning the radio off in the car about two minutes from home because Stairway to Heaven was starting and he didn't want to start listening to it if he couldn't finish it. Somewhere in his record collection is also a copy of this LP.

I bought a copy of Led Zepp IV on cd in HMV in my second year of university. I was clearly very influenced by my housemate Matt on that trip, because I bought Led Zepp IV, Radiohead's Pablo Honey and Jeff Buckley's Grace, all bands he was a huge fan of (it was one of their four-for-£20 deals, which at the time was a great deal; I also bought King for Day by Faith No More). I knew of the importance of the band far more than I really knew the songs, so that cd was meant to be the beginning of me getting into the band properly. Somehow, nearly 15 years passed before I bought any more Led Zeppelin, a strange act I can't quite explain. In that time, I got into a lot of other music, and I guess I just didn't have the time to dedicate to Zeppelin too. Also, whilst I like Led Zeppelin, they're not a band I'm hugely passionate about (a sentence that I'm sure be controversial to certain people); I'm a casual fan at best.

Black Dog and Rock and Roll are a great opening duo and everything I want from Led Zeppelin - huge riffs, heavy and crazy amounts of energy. Stairway to Heaven is, of course, Stairway to Heaven - the unfuckwithable epic that everyone knows. It's a great song and deserves the endless praise it gets - the drums are a particular highlight. I'm sure no post-rock band would call it an influence, but that overall song structure - the gradual build-up and ultimate release - can be seen countless times throughout my collection. Songs like The Battle of Evermore and Going to California are less my thing - perhaps an album full of Led Zeppelin riffs would be too much to take, so maybe these songs serve more of a purpose than I'm giving them credit for. When the Levee Breaks closes the album with another ridiculously huge riff. I'm probably one of the few people who was introduced to this song by the A Perfect Circle cover rather than the original. Robert Plant's vocals here are impeccable.

It's going to take me years to write about all the other albums I bought that day; it's been six months and I've still not had a chance to play them all (I am purposely spreading them out, to give each its time). I'll try to avoid telling the whole story again each time.

Format: 12", gatefold sleeve, picture sleeve
Tracks: 8
Cost: £0.33 second hand
Bought: Blue Cross, Kidlington
When: 01/12/18
Colour: Black
Etching: none
mp3s: no

Paul Simon - Graceland

I own a Paul Simon record. Given the 650-or-so records I've written about on here over the last seven years, this might seem like an outlier. On the other hand, there are so many Paul Simon records in existence it's only likely that one would end up in my collection; buy enough records, and one of them will eventually be by Paul Simon.

Throughout my 20's it seemed that a lot of people around me really loved Paul Simon. Near the start of that decade in my life, I bought this copy of Graceland in a charity shop in Canberra for AU$1, which was about 42p at the time. I'd already heard enough good things about it and you can't argue with that price. I think perhaps I was trying to seem a bit more eclectic in my music taste around then (regardless of whether I actually was or not). I definitely remember thinking that owning a Paul Simon record suggested I wasn't this one-dimensional character that only listened to modern rock bands, which it would have been easy to believe (in truth, I thought I was being pretty eclectic by loving an indie band like the Manics as much as I loved post-hardcore and metal, but such differences didn't seem to translate in the other hemisphere, where all of that was basically "rock").

Towards the end of my 20's, the love all my friends had for Paul Simon seemed to peak with him playing all of Graceland in Hyde Park as part of their series of summer shows; it says more that I didn't go with them, but went to see Soundgarden play two nights before in the same venue instead with Hugh and Holly (we also saw The Mars Volta for what would turn out to be the last time too). I'm sure I would have had a great time sitting in the sun with a huge group of friends watching Paul Simon play this album, but I definitely had a better time getting unnecessarily drunk, singing along and seeing Soundgarden live for the first time in my life. (Two years later we'd see Soundgarden play the same venue with Black Sabbath, Faith No More and Motorhead. Soundgarden decided that morning to play Superunknown in whole, and I had an even better time. I count myself very lucky to have seen Soundgarden twice, partly because the first time I was too drunk to really remember much in detail, other than having the time of my life.)

Here I am writing about Paul Simon and I still end up raving about a hard-rock band. Perhaps I am one-dimensional?

Anyway, I like this album. I can honestly say there is nothing else like it in my collection. I know very little about Simon and Garfunkel so can't say much about the important differences and cultural significance of this album. I'm sure countless other people have said it all much better than I ever could a million times anyway. Boy in the Middle is a great song, and the backing vocals on I Know What I Know catch me by surprise every time. The title track stays in your head for days and it's hard not to sing the chorus when thinking about the album. You Can Call Me Al was the one I knew best going into the album, a song that was surely littered over the radio when I was a kid. I once put it on a mixtape for a girl I was trying to impress - it was the only song she mentioned from it, so that was probably a sign it wasn't meant to be (again, trying to look eclectic and not one-dimensional!). It is a huge tune.

Format: 12"
Tracks: 12
Cost: £0.42 second hand
Bought: Charity shop, Canberra
When: 14/10/05
Colour: Black
Etching: none
mp3s: none

Le Peuple De L'Herbe - Triple Zero + [Promo]

Le Peuple De L'Herbe are a French hip-hop band that my friend Steve got into when he was living in France on his gap year. I remember him raving about them on his return and having a t-shirt of theirs, quite possibly featuring the art in the top corner of this sleeve.

Roll on three years or so, and I found this record in a charity on Albany Road in Cardiff that often had some interesting things - lots of promos that someone was routinely dropping off. I figured it was worth a £3 punt; it's worth dwelling on mine and Steve's musical tastes for a moment - there are bands and musicians that Steve and I have agreed on in the past, and some of them are amongst my all-time favourites (Jason Molina sits at the top of that list, but we've also both enjoyed Pavement and Pavement-a-likes, Car Seat Headrest). However, the vast, vast majority of stuff we don't actually agree on - he hates a lot of the bands I like and a lot of the ones he really loves do less than little for me. Here, I was willing to take his praise as recommendation but it was certainly not going to be a sure fire bet.

Le Peuple De L'Herbe is not really for me. As the name (and leaf on the sleeve) suggests, the band spend a lot of their time Very High. I imagine if you are Very High that this might be interesting music. But sat here, sober and in my thirties it's really pretty dull. I've never got very much from it and it's spent almost all of its life sat in my record collection, unloved. Herbman Skank has a fun beat for a while, but quickly descends into something unlistenable with a flat, programmed drum beat and a guy saying "Give me the weed". There are only four songs here, but their obsession with weed wears thin very fast (Electric Wiazrd's Dopethrone is a great example of a record obsessed with weed that doesn't make you wish they could sing about literally anything else, but it's very likely I'm saying that because I like doom-metal and not whatever genre of hip-hop this belongs to).

I'd go so far as to say that Le Peuple De L'Herbe are really quite terrible. I wonder if Steve's enjoyment came out of the rare intersection of the Venn diagram featuring hip-hop, French musicians and cannabis.

Format: 12", promo insert
Tracks: 4
Cost: £3 second hand
Bought: Albany Road Charity Shop
When: 09/10/07
Colour: Black
Etching: none
mp3s: None