PINK FLOYD'S WALL: Live and All Pink On the Inside
Was it coincidence that the earliest pictures of Johnny Rotten had the pimply pre-Lydon scowling in a shirt emblazoned: FUCK PINK FLOYD? Or that a Rockpile audience, told to cheer on cue while engineers recorded it for the new Pink Floyd album, decided it would be more appropriate to boo instead?
PINK FLOYD'S WALL: Live and All Pink On the Inside
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Dave DiMartino
Was it coincidence that the earliest pictures of Johnny Rotten had the pimply pre-Lydon scowling in a shirt emblazoned: FUCK PINK FLOYD? Or that a Rockpile audience, told to cheer on cue while engineers recorded it for the new Pink Floyd album, decided it would be more appropriate to boo instead? That a band viewed years earlier as purveyors of the avant-garde actually be dismissed as Boring Old Farts?
The schism that separated the Yesses, Genesisesand Emerson, Lake and Palmers of the early 70’s from the upcoming Pistols, Clash, Stranglers and Buzzcocks of the later 70’s was widening, almost laughably so, and where Pink Floyd stood was obvious. They were the aging dinosaurs Robert Fripp would later refer to, the last of the Big Bands, bloated and floating aimlessly from tax shelter to tax shelter. It was said by all but a few: Pink Floyd No Longer Mattered. Music made in garages sounded better than music made in mansions and critic and fan alike were beginning to realize it.