Review Summary: The Wall is the best narrative work of popular music ever made. What more needs to be said?
Here it is, the mother of all rock operas! Pink Floyd were neither the first nor the last to make a concrete narrative out of popular music, but no one has ever done it with as much stupefying grandeur and remarkable narrative force as Roger Waters did with The Wall. In my opinion, this could very well be the pinnacle of rock as an artistic medium. Literally everything about it, from its lavishly detailed story to its bombastic arrangements to its daunting double-length to its theatrical expressiveness, is taken to the utmost extreme, making it one of the harshest, most unforgiving musical experiences I’ve ever witnessed. I completely acknowledge that there are many listeners who despise this album or will learn to (I don't blame anyone for being put off by it), but I have yet to meet one. It's the ultimate cliché of progressive rock, somehow beloved for all the reasons that it should be hated.
It’s worth noting that the album was released at the very end of the 1970s, a time defined by the unceremonious rise of punk rock and disco, economic disaster in the United Kingdom, worldwide social unrest and the escalation of progressive rock as an ugly relic of studio hedonism. Somehow, Waters’ creative vision condensed the entire end of the decade into a work so emblematic of everything that was wrong with the era it belongs to that I can’t help but be absorbed every time I listen. For all of his ludicrous ambition and selfishness (he downplayed the other member’s contributions), he was simply doing his job. Except that he did it far better than everyone else.
Unlike many similar musical projects, where an overarching plot is placed above all else, the main focus of The Wall is the development of its main character, Pink. Clearly based on Waters himself, Pink is undoubtedly one of the most psychologically complex and engrossing characters ever written in any medium. His personality and development operate on so many levels of meaning that the story demands multiple listens. From the very beginning, with the death of his father in World War II, his life is built upon tragedy to the point where he begins to cut himself off mentally from the rest of the world. His experiences, including the trauma caused by his father’s death, the abuse given by his schoolteachers, a failed marriage and a foray into the abyss of late-Seventies rock, are vividly brought to life by the lyrics and the elaborate, surprisingly diverse music. That’s definitely not a 4-man band working behind it, though, even if some of the more “rocking” group performances are really impressive. David Gilmour is really the only other member that gets a chance to shine, but when he does, his guitar work is breathtaking. And while Roger Waters isn't nearly as talented as a musician, he cannot be faulted for a lack of effort. His rough voice also works well, adding to the emotional gravity of Pink's manic journey.
Owing to the luxury of being an established mainstream act during the 1970s, the band and their producers spared no expense in loading the album with detail. Sounds effects are all over the place, and the massive scale of the whole affair is intimidating! The plethora of recurring themes and imagery is even crazier, being just barely held together by Pink's delirium. In what other album will you hear fascism, Vera Lynn, rock n' roll hedonism, emotional trauma, schoolyard rebellion, disco, punk, opera and extreme self-pitying collide with such reckless disregard for thematic cohesion? A better question would be, could that ever work as well again?
The first half outlines Pink's downward spiral, with the different themes building up to his ultimate decision to build a metaphorical wall protecting himself from further misery. Seeking a life of gratification without emotional investment, he turns to the corrupt rock lifestyle while rejecting social interaction. The songs get progressively more intense until he snaps, and his breakdown is positively unnerving. The second half takes place in his mind after he “walls” himself off from society and is even more dangerously volatile than the first; it’s the very definition of mood whiplash. The tracks blur into each other without warning, the dynamic range between them is absurd and all logic is thrown out the window when Pink rules a rock show as a Neo-Nazi. If not for the fascinating narrative style, this would all be preposterous! Or maybe it still is. Finally, without giving anything away, let me just say that the climax is absolutely mind-boggling.
I could keep going, but just the fact that such a deep, unsettling and poignant work of musical art exists is hard enough to explain. The album stands proudly on the very edge of popular appeal, saved from its own insanity by just being extremely well-written. That, and the fact that Roger Waters wrote it with such powerful judgment: he saw a generation of disillusioned listeners through the end of a difficult era, fully aware that he could only save his dream by abandoning himself. Shockingly, The Wall rings true to this day.
