Pink Floyd, the band behind 'The Wall,' in early days: (l.-r.) Wright, Gilmour, Waters, Mason.

Up against a wall of secrecy with Pink Floyd

Apprehension crept up the spines of the roadways leading to Nassau Coliseum, as it always does before a rock event at which too many fans vie for too few seats.  Teenagers clawed at chartered buses in hopes of scoring spare tickets to Pink Floyd's first East Coast shows in two and a half years.  Scalpers asked $100 a ticket, two police impersonators seized cash from scalpers and real cops arrested the fake ones.  Fans came from as far away as Toronto and Cincinnati.  Pink Floyd was pre-senting a major concert in the most desolate month of a depressed season, and everyone form Steve Walsh of Kansas to the hustling throng of bootleg T-shirt vendors wanted to be part of the event.
  Aided by four British session players and an American vocal quartet, Pink Floyd presented its best-selling Columbia opus, The Wall, in New York and Los Angeles in two hours of songs, floats and films.  Tapes mingled

 with the live rhythm section, live vocals by Roger Waters and David Gilmour, and the occas-sional guitar passage from Dave or Snowy White, which was tossed like a pearl before an inflatable hovering swine.  Gro-tesque 30-foot floats resembling a teacher, a mother and Pink's waspish wife menaced the stage like some fantastic air raiders at a Thanksgiving parade.
  During Sides Three and Four, the animated films of Gerald Scarfe splashed in multiple images across the huge wall that roadies and house crew built out of numbered bricks to hid the musicians from view.  As Roger Waters' anti-fascist lyrics floated from giant speakers, cartoon hammers goose-stepped threat-eningly along the wall, and a serpentine judge in a comic-strip stadium sentenced the Pink character to a life term of being himself.
  The crowd was so quiet you could hear a pig drop.  When the white wall of plywood and

styrofoam fell at the show's climax, a cheer ran the length of the arena.  But as soon as the legion of fans got wise to the arty British foursome's latest stage gambit, groans took the place of cheers.  There was to be no more pulsing, electrified music - only a parade of Floydian minstrels who strolled the stage with folk guitars for a tongue-in-cheek encore and were gone.  The production simply followed the Wall LP.  Floyd had written no rock music to succeed the Wall's collapse.
  Still, what kind of rock spectacle is capped with a visual effect instead of a song?  Does the Floyd stage appearance signify a move to serious theater, or just a big, Watery joke on the rock audience?
  "The Wall couldn't have been done live," admitted coproducer Bob Ezrin.  "The 'live' show grew from the record, but it's a copy of the record.  They just don't play together anymore."  The most powerful force behind the attrition

 

The production of 'The Wall' was so lavish that it could be performed only in L.A. and New York.


of Floyd as a stage band is bassist Roger Water's un-shakable command of the Floyd citadel.  The very man who writes anti-totalitarian songs expects every musician around him to kowtow to his leadership and songwriting prowess.  When band work on The Wall began a year and a half ago, Waters reportedly said bluntly, "The other guys work for me."
  Nick Mason and Rick Wright, admittedly not the innovators they once were, have been so displaced by Waters's restric-tions that they've taken to outside projects - Mason drumming with Rob Grill, Wright going the solo album route.  Both contributed instrumen-tation but no writing to The Wall.  Even guitarist Gilmour had to "bust Roger's arm," Ezrin said, in order to write for the project.  And Waters told Ezrin, "You can write anything you want; just don't expect any credit or money for it."  Ezrin swallowed his pride and got on with his work (producing, arranging, editing and adding keyboards).  "I keep hitting these turkeys," he said of the rock world, "who cant' put four words together in a nice sentence.  To run into Roger Waters was an absolute joy.  He's the finest lyricist in rock."

Is this not what you expected to see?/If you'd like to find out what's behind these cold eyes/You'll just have to claw your way through the disguise.
-Roger Waters, "In The Flesh?"

"We had so many effects, different styles of echo and different EQs," said Ezrin, "That every song had to be set up and individually crafted."  Bringing this mountain of sonic com-plexity to the stage meant hiring extra musicians, partly to free Roger Waters to sing better; partly to facilitate the tricky staging, which involved three different band setups; and partly to fill out the sound.  On stage, bassist Andy Bown holds most of the bottom down, while Snowy White trades guitar solos with Gilmour and the tape recorder.
  When former Sutherland Brothers & Quiver organist Peter Woods plays "In the Flesh?" in a Rick Wright mask, the lyrics prove literally true, for the "cold eyes" of Woods's mask are really part of a disguise.  Substitutes Woods and White aren't "what you expected to see," for the elusive Wright and Gilmour don't join the performance till the second

number,  "The Thin Ice."  When the band rocks the hardest, as on "Another Brick (Part Three)," all eight musicians, including ex-SB & Q drummer Willie Wilson, play together.
  At such times the quartet image of Pink Floyd loses definition, and one wonders how long Waters intends to keep group appear-ances going.  A Wall insider has predicted that Richard Wright will not remain long as Floyd's keyboardist after the mini-tour.  Circus Magazine has no proof that the four Londoners played even once in the same room between the '77 Animals dates and the '79 Wall tour rehearsals.  Helping to keep them together, however tenuously, is their friendship, shared backgrounds as engineering students, and a mutual preference for the clinical approach to musical perfor-mance.  As rock & rollers go, they're comparative highbrows.  Recordings, not shows, have become their main creative outlet.

  The presence and backgrounds of the music arrangers Michael Kamen and Ezrin seem indicative of Waters's growing restlessness with the Floyd format and with rock & roll in general.  Kaman, known in the U.S. music business for orchestrating sophisticated pop and folk-rock albums, has recently scored a ballet for La Scala, and is involved with a complex, reggae-inspired Broad-way musical.  Canadian Bob Ezrin wrote for The Atlantic before becoming a record producer.  He's worked with Lou Reed on the concept album Berlin, and seemed a good choice to Roger after Caroline Waters (his wife) suggested he use Ezrin, for whom she used to work.
 "Boby has a gift for taking someone's concept and


At the outset of 'The Wall' project, Roger Waters said, "The other guys work for me."

organizing it almost before the artist has though of it," said Kamen.
  "In an all-night session," Ezrin revealed, "I rewrote the record.  I used all of Roger's elements, but I rearranged their order and put them in a different form.  I wrote The Wall out in forty pages, like a book, telling how the songs segued.  From that the stage show grew.  [Album and show development cost over $1,500,00 before road ex-penses.]  It wasn't so much rewriting as redirecting.  I acted as Roger's editor, and believe me, his lyrics were so good they didn't need much."
  Roger Waters's original version of The Wall, for example, included this lyric for "Another Brick in the Wall":
  I don't need your drugs to bring me down, down, down.
  Waters set down a series of parallel lines which substituted other specific substances for "drugs."  At Ezrin's editorial insistence, Roger generalized the lyrics for Part Three of the song to convey Pink's alienation with more power:
  I don't need no arms around me.  I don't need no drugs to calm me...Don't think I need anything at all.
  "The record used to be Roger's life story," Ezrin said, "and there were dates in the lyrics that put him at 36 years old.  Kids don't want to know about old rock stars.  [Ezrin is only 30.]  I insisted we make the record more accessible, more uni-versal.  It was kept universalized, with some very important fine tuning by Roger.  But the credits would've read like the Bible if we'd broken everybody's con-tribution down."
  Now that he's done a double album and multi-media stage show with the collaborative assistance of classicists and showmen Ezrin and Kamen, could Waters (and Floyd) be looking to more "legitimate" theatrical work?  Producer Ezrin may have the answer.
  "One thing we went for with the Pink Floyd vocals was an 'acting' quality.  For example, Gilmour, who's very sober by nature, sang screaming on 'Young Lust' in a way he hadn't sung in years.  And all the characters and accents in 'The Trial' are Roger.  When we were through, I said to him, 'We've really got to do Broadway.'  He and I are ser-iously discussing something like that."
  Set the controls for the hart of the theater district - or the boards of the British sound stages.
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