WordPress has a little stats doohickey which shows me what people have searched for to find this blog. It’s always interesting to see how people have stumbled across my little oasis of inconsequence. And today…
Um. Goodness. I can only imagine that was one disappointed browser.
My favourite Pink Floyd song. And this performance is just… very emotional. There’s something about four old fellers, guitar, bass, keyboard and drums, ditching the backing singers, percussionists, saxophones and synthesisers, putting aside a lifetime’s worth of animosity*, and just playing the damned song. It was for a good cause, but you know, the music is cause enough sometimes.
It’s a song whose spirit transcends the actual lyrics, I think. I’ve never traded my heroes for ghosts, but it still feels like it’s for me and about me. That’s a kind of musical alchemy.
I was crying when I watched it on the telly in 2005, and… yeah. Wish you were here.
*although I do like to imagine the conversation when Roger decided he wanted to sing a verse: “but Roger, you… you know, you can’t really, uh, it’s maybe more suited to somebody who can, um… sing?” Can’t blame him though.
From The Armando Iannucci Shows, the oddly dreamlike sketch show, written and fronted by the small, hairy mastermind behind The Day Today, I’m Alan Partridge and The Thick of It.
The programme is a mix of sketches and monologues. It’s frequently surreal, but the show sets a tone in which everything has its own logic. It meanders along, and you get caught up in the slow-pulsing rhythm of it as much as anything else. The result is much like slowly drifting into somebody else’s anxious, paranoid daydream. But in a good way.
That’s Hale and Pace working in a shoe shop at the end, by the way. Of course it is.