"Pink Floyd: "Fletcher Memorial Home" (The Final Cut, 1983)

I heard a BBC story this morning about a 93-year-old veteran of the Anzio landing reaching out to Roger Waters to determine the place of his father’s death, the event that, though it happened when he was just five months old, seems to have been most instrumental to shaping his worldview and work. 

Waters has spent so much of his creative energy working through his feelings about losing his father before he even got to know him that I had always figured he was familiar with the details of what happened. The list of Pink Floyd songs that either explicitly acknowledge this death or seem hover around it, exploring various angles of how soldiers die and why, is long:

"Free Four"
 ”Us & Them”
 ”When the Tigers Broke Free”
 ”Bring the Boys Back Home”
 ”Vera”
 ”Another Brick in the Wall part 1”
 All twelve songs on The Final Cut which is dedicated to him

The one featured here, “Fletcher Memorial Home,” is one of those twelve and is among the emotional peaks of an album that is either a wretched mess or a total masterpiece depending on how you approach it. The Fletcher in Fletcher Memorial Home comes from Waters’ father, Eric Fletcher Waters, who, as implied above, died during the Battle of Anzio during World War II. 

Initially a conscientious objector, Waters reconsidered his position and enlisted when the extent of fascism’s evils became clear—among other things, Waters was a Communist, and he realized acutely that he would have been one of the many under Hitler’s boot heel if he’d had the misfortune to be living in a conquered country. He’d been an ambulance driver to that point; when he joined the army he was assigned to the 8th Royal Fusiliers, an infantry regiment with a history dating back to the 1600s, when it was among the first units to use flintlock muskets, called fusils.

Operation Shingle was the Allies’ attempt to break a stalemate in Italy by landing a force north of the Germans’ front line at Anzio, and it almost worked perfectly. The Germans were caught completely off guard, but when Roger Waters singles out generals for criticism in his songs (i.e. “And the generals gave thanks as the other ranks held back the enemy tanks for a while/ and the Anzio beachhead was held for the price of a few hundred ordinary lives,” from “When the Tigers Broke Free”), he is is referring both to the Allied High Command, which undermanned the effort, and Major General John P. Lucas, who failed to capitalize on the element of surprise and got his army bogged down in a slow, slogging fight that lasted months. It was during this fight that Eric Fletcher Waters died.

Enter Harry Schindler, the Anzio vet. He’d never heard of Pink Floyd, but he heard Waters speaking warmly of his father and was moved to find the report on the death of Eric Fletcher Waters. He got the report, including the map reference for the battle, and is now trying to get a plaque installed in the spot. 

I don’t imagine Waters ever imagined that something like this would come out of all those songs, much less so long after they came out. The one song he put part of his father’s name on is actually not a very personal reflection; it instead sets up this memorial home as an assisted care facility for the 20th Century’s assorted war starters, with an emphasis on Thatcher, Reagan, and other then-current leaders, with the overarching implication that decisions made in capitals by people of power result in the deaths of people like his father. I wish I could say it had lost relevance with time.

Just for fun.

Just for fun.

The first copy of The Division Bell I bought was on cassette. This was the image on the cassette case.

The first copy of The Division Bell I bought was on cassette. This was the image on the cassette case.

I had a giant poster of this image on my bedroom wall all through high school. It’s my favorite thing Storm Thorgerson ever did, a strangely haunting symbol of human-to-human communication and how it doesn’t always go the way we hope it will. 
If there’s a legitimate criticism that could be leveled at most of the work Hipgnosis did over its long run as one of the most in-demand album art companies in the world, it’s that a lot of those cool images don’t really have much to say; they’re to be taken almost as decorative. That doesn’t apply to all of them, of course, but when I look at that Audioslave cover they did, there’s not a whole lot to it. The point is that it’s enigmatic.
The Division Bell is different, though. Communication is a theme running through the album, so it makes sense that the artwork would reflect this, of course, in much the same way that, say Thorgerson’s Wish You Were Here cover reflected the themes of that album back in 1975. 
So you have these heads in a field. And they are actually big, metal head sculptures, placed in a field, with Ely Cathedral way in the background. They’re shot in real light, with no matting or computer graphics. 
And they’re talking to each other, sort of. Their mouths are open, but they’re both open, as though they’re talking past each other as much as to each other. And then again, the overall expression on their faces suggests that maybe they’re not even talking at all. They’re poised to talk, but they can’t think of what to say. Stand back far enough, and it even looks a bit like a single face, surprised at something you just said. 
These blank-eyed sculptures are much more effective ciphers for the difficulties of telling each other how we really feel than two actual people would have been; they don’t have anything about them that suggests class, race, ideology, or any of the other things that artificially divide us. They’re the ultimate equals, and that means they share equal credit for anything they work out and are equally complicit when they blow it.
This is, of course, an example of an album cover made with a real budget. That is increasingly not an option, and people find ways around it. I think a lot of people would default to doing this by computer today, maybe with 3D models. It may not even look that different, but it wouldn’t be quite the same. For one thing, with real sculptures, Thorgerson and his team were able to move these figures all over the place and take photos under different conditions for different effects, effects that they may not have been able to predict. Open air photography is an invitation to serendipity. 
There may or may not be a very subtle message about religion being a bell that divides in this image—I’m not sure if they were thinking about that or not when they chose Ely Cathedral’s bell tower as the thing that would be between the mouths of these heads. What the cathedral’s placement does accomplish rather nicely, though, is something that the best surreal images are uniquely suited to do: it reminds us how very strange the world looks on a regular basis.
That cathedral just sticks up over the trees at the end of this winterized field. People take it for granted, but it doesn’t really look like it belongs there when you scrutinize it. I wish there were more images online of the photo shoot for this album cover. I’d rather like to see the staging. 
I may do a lot of writing, but I’ve never thought of myself as a great communicator, at least as far as the people in my life are concerned. So when I look at this image—when I looked at it every day, up there on my wall, it reminds me that this is pretty tough for everybody; everyone has his or her own communication problems. Sometimes, they render us mute, other times, they make us talk over or past one another.
In either event, I also think it’s notable that these big head sculptures are missing ears. Half of communication is listening, and when we forget that, it leads to problems. 
This is my favorite thing Storm Thorgerson did. I hope he knew how good it was.

I had a giant poster of this image on my bedroom wall all through high school. It’s my favorite thing Storm Thorgerson ever did, a strangely haunting symbol of human-to-human communication and how it doesn’t always go the way we hope it will. 

If there’s a legitimate criticism that could be leveled at most of the work Hipgnosis did over its long run as one of the most in-demand album art companies in the world, it’s that a lot of those cool images don’t really have much to say; they’re to be taken almost as decorative. That doesn’t apply to all of them, of course, but when I look at that Audioslave cover they did, there’s not a whole lot to it. The point is that it’s enigmatic.

The Division Bell is different, though. Communication is a theme running through the album, so it makes sense that the artwork would reflect this, of course, in much the same way that, say Thorgerson’s Wish You Were Here cover reflected the themes of that album back in 1975. 

So you have these heads in a field. And they are actually big, metal head sculptures, placed in a field, with Ely Cathedral way in the background. They’re shot in real light, with no matting or computer graphics. 

And they’re talking to each other, sort of. Their mouths are open, but they’re both open, as though they’re talking past each other as much as to each other. And then again, the overall expression on their faces suggests that maybe they’re not even talking at all. They’re poised to talk, but they can’t think of what to say. Stand back far enough, and it even looks a bit like a single face, surprised at something you just said. 

These blank-eyed sculptures are much more effective ciphers for the difficulties of telling each other how we really feel than two actual people would have been; they don’t have anything about them that suggests class, race, ideology, or any of the other things that artificially divide us. They’re the ultimate equals, and that means they share equal credit for anything they work out and are equally complicit when they blow it.

This is, of course, an example of an album cover made with a real budget. That is increasingly not an option, and people find ways around it. I think a lot of people would default to doing this by computer today, maybe with 3D models. It may not even look that different, but it wouldn’t be quite the same. For one thing, with real sculptures, Thorgerson and his team were able to move these figures all over the place and take photos under different conditions for different effects, effects that they may not have been able to predict. Open air photography is an invitation to serendipity. 

There may or may not be a very subtle message about religion being a bell that divides in this image—I’m not sure if they were thinking about that or not when they chose Ely Cathedral’s bell tower as the thing that would be between the mouths of these heads. What the cathedral’s placement does accomplish rather nicely, though, is something that the best surreal images are uniquely suited to do: it reminds us how very strange the world looks on a regular basis.

That cathedral just sticks up over the trees at the end of this winterized field. People take it for granted, but it doesn’t really look like it belongs there when you scrutinize it. I wish there were more images online of the photo shoot for this album cover. I’d rather like to see the staging. 

I may do a lot of writing, but I’ve never thought of myself as a great communicator, at least as far as the people in my life are concerned. So when I look at this image—when I looked at it every day, up there on my wall, it reminds me that this is pretty tough for everybody; everyone has his or her own communication problems. Sometimes, they render us mute, other times, they make us talk over or past one another.

In either event, I also think it’s notable that these big head sculptures are missing ears. Half of communication is listening, and when we forget that, it leads to problems. 

This is my favorite thing Storm Thorgerson did. I hope he knew how good it was.

natepatrin:

500 Favorites, #008: Pink Floyd, “Dogs”

(from Animals, 1977)

"Dogs” is the first real big thematic track on the album, and it says something about the band’s outlook at the time (or mine now) that I can’t really separate the idea of its critique of capitalism from the idea that they’re singing about actual organized crime figures. (“You’ve got to be trusted/by the people that you lie to/so that when they turn their back on you/you’ll get the chance to put the knife in” — sounds more like one of Donald Westlake’s Parker novels than an issue of Fortune, but that could be the narcissism of small differences.) David Gilmour’s got this great haunted, shaky cast to his voice, more so than usual, and he can turn on a dime from that unsettled mode into something more theatrically aggressive (the way he snarls “put the knife in”) or plummeting into oblivion (the third verse-ending line “just another sad old man/all alone, dying of cancer”). So it’s easy for him to make legitimate business sound like “legitimate business.”

Full Post

Nate’s 500 Favorites series is only nine entries in and is already full of great writing and ideas. I enjoyed reading his take on Pink Floyd’s “Dogs,” a song I’ve listened to too many times to count—it’s fun to follow along as someone who’s obviously thought about it as much as you have rattles off an interpretation you never arrived at yourself. 

I also like that Nate takes the time to talk about David Gilmour’s singing—I think he’s a very effective vocalist if not a spectacular one. It’s easy to overlook that next to his guitar playing. Which, hey, is amazing on this song. The first solo is pretty crazy stuff, a left hook at the end of the verse that I still remember hearing for the first time, almost twenty years ago. But it’s not just the solo. That open, rhythmic strumming behind the opening verses, and the big, electric chords he layers on top of it have their own genius to them—they make a polemical screed go down like candy.

Pink Floyd: “Embryo” (1970/07/16 Paris Cinema, London, Peel Session)


It’s pretty easy for me to know what the biggest event of 2013 will be for me: I’m going to be a father in June. My wife and I are a modern couple. We got married over ten years ago, and now, in our early 30s, we’re just getting to the parenthood phase. Seems like a lot of people I know are doing that (or waiting even longer).

Are we ready? Damn, is anyone ever really ready to be a parent? I don’t think it’s something you can ever fully prepare for. You read up on life stages and what to expect, but parenthood is still something that happens literally in an instant (hopefully not a terribly long one for the mother’s sake). One moment you are not a parent. The next you are. The nine months of pregnancy doesn’t ease you into it at all.

I’m looking forward to it. I’ll with deal with whatever happens. People ask me, “do you want a boy or a girl?” I don’t care. It’s not as though I’d value the child any differently if it were one or the other. I’d like a healthy child. But if there is some health problem, well, we’ll deal with that too.

We won’t know the gender for a few more weeks, but once we do, I guess I’ll start thinking about names and how I might raise that child in a way that helps them flourish. In the long run, that’s all I really want: for the child I have to have the best life possible for that child. It’s not an easy thing to achieve, but I’ll try.

(Source: yeeshkulmk2)

U.K. Prog, Volume 20: 1987-2010 What Happened Next 3
The third volume exploring how the ideas and sounds introduced by progressive rock bands passed through the punk rock filter and became part of the vocabulary of music made in the UK after 1979, from dark techno to rock.
Download the mix here.

1. Medal: Is Your Soul in Your Head? 6:10 (1999)2. Talk Talk: Ascension Day 6:00 (1991)3. Fairport Convention : Spanish Main 4:31 (1998)4. These New Puritans: We Want War 7:23 (2010)5. Radio Massacre International: Syd 2:47 (2007)6. The Orb: Montagne d’Or (Der Gute Berg) 10:42 (1994)7. Mansun: Television 8:22 (1998)8. The Pineapple Thief: West Winds 8:54 (2007)9. Peter Murphy: Just for Love 6:38 (2002)10. Roger Waters: Four Minutes 4:00 (1987)11. Pink Floyd: High Hopes 8:32 (1994)
Volume One: Mix.  Notes. Volume Two: Mix. Notes. Volume Three: Mix.  Notes. Volume Four: Mix.  Notes.  Volume Five: Mix.  Notes.  Volume Six: Mix.  Notes. Volume Seven: Mix.  Notes.  Volume Eight: Mix.  Notes.  Volume Nine: Mix.  Notes.   Volume Ten: Mix.  Notes.   Volume Eleven: Mix.  Notes.   Volume Twelve: Mix. Notes. Volume Thirteen: Mix. Notes. Volume Fourteen: Mix. Notes.Volume Fifteen: Mix. Notes.Volume Sixteen: Mix. Notes.Volume Seventeen: Mix. Notes.Volume Eighteen: Mix. Volume Nineteen: Mix.

U.K. Prog, Volume 20: 1987-2010 What Happened Next 3

The third volume exploring how the ideas and sounds introduced by progressive rock bands passed through the punk rock filter and became part of the vocabulary of music made in the UK after 1979, from dark techno to rock.

Download the mix here.

1. Medal: Is Your Soul in Your Head? 6:10 (1999)
2. Talk Talk: Ascension Day 6:00 (1991)
3. Fairport Convention : Spanish Main 4:31 (1998)
4. These New Puritans: We Want War 7:23 (2010)
5. Radio Massacre International: Syd 2:47 (2007)
6. The Orb: Montagne d’Or (Der Gute Berg) 10:42 (1994)
7. Mansun: Television 8:22 (1998)
8. The Pineapple Thief: West Winds 8:54 (2007)
9. Peter Murphy: Just for Love 6:38 (2002)
10. Roger Waters: Four Minutes 4:00 (1987)
11. Pink Floyd: High Hopes 8:32 (1994)

Volume One: Mix.  Notes
Volume Two: Mix. Notes
Volume Three: Mix.  Notes
Volume Four: Mix.  Notes.  
Volume Five: Mix.  Notes.  
Volume Six: Mix.  Notes
Volume Seven: Mix.  Notes.  
Volume Eight: Mix.  Notes.  
Volume Nine: Mix.  Notes.   
Volume Ten: Mix.  Notes.   
Volume Eleven: Mix.  Notes.   
Volume Twelve: Mix. Notes
Volume Thirteen: Mix. Notes
Volume Fourteen: Mix. Notes.
Volume Fifteen: Mix. Notes.
Volume Sixteen: Mix. Notes.
Volume Seventeen: Mix. Notes.
Volume Eighteen: Mix.
Volume Nineteen: Mix.

Meet Me on the Moon: Space Age Music for Neil Armstrong (1930-2012)
Download link. 
1. Orchester Roland Kovac: Space Station 12. Dick Hyman & Mary Mayo: Space Reflex (Blues in 5/4)3. Os Brazões: Modulo Lunar4. Russ Garcia: Birth of a Planet5. The Tornados: Telstar6. Dr. Samuel J. Hoffman: Mist o’ the Moon7. Ferrante & Teicher: Man from Mars8.  Joe Meek/Rod Freeman & the Blue Men: Valley of the Saroos  9. Peter Thomas Sound Orchestra: Raumpatrouille (Space Patrol) 10. Pink Floyd: Moonhead 11. Tom Glazer & Dottie Evans: Why Go Up There? 12. Les Baxter: The Other Side of the Moon 13. Alain Goraguer: Les Fusees 14. Daniel J. White: Mer de la Tranquillite 15. The Ventures: Moon Child 16. John Keating: Unknown Planet 17. The Ames Brothers: Destination Moon 18. Perrey-Kingsley: Carousel of the Planets 19. Bernard Herrmann: Prelude/Outerspace/Radar 20. Tom Dissivelt & Kid Baltan: Song of the Second Moon 21. 101 Strings: A Disappointed Love with a Desensitized Robot 22. Louis & Bebe Barron: Forbidden Planet Main Title 23. Akira Ifukube: The Mystery of Planet X 24. Delia Derbyshire: Planetarium 25. Ernie: I Don’t Want to Live on the Moon

Meet Me on the Moon: Space Age Music for Neil Armstrong (1930-2012)

Download link. 

1. Orchester Roland Kovac: Space Station 1
2. Dick Hyman & Mary Mayo: Space Reflex (Blues in 5/4)
3. Os Brazões: Modulo Lunar
4. Russ Garcia: Birth of a Planet
5. The Tornados: Telstar
6. Dr. Samuel J. Hoffman: Mist o’ the Moon
7. Ferrante & Teicher: Man from Mars
8.  Joe Meek/Rod Freeman & the Blue Men: Valley of the Saroos 
9. Peter Thomas Sound Orchestra: Raumpatrouille (Space Patrol)
10. Pink Floyd: Moonhead
11. Tom Glazer & Dottie Evans: Why Go Up There?
12. Les Baxter: The Other Side of the Moon
13. Alain Goraguer: Les Fusees
14. Daniel J. White: Mer de la Tranquillite
15. The Ventures: Moon Child
16. John Keating: Unknown Planet
17. The Ames Brothers: Destination Moon
18. Perrey-Kingsley: Carousel of the Planets
19. Bernard Herrmann: Prelude/Outerspace/Radar
20. Tom Dissivelt & Kid Baltan: Song of the Second Moon
21. 101 Strings: A Disappointed Love with a Desensitized Robot
22. Louis & Bebe Barron: Forbidden Planet Main Title
23. Akira Ifukube: The Mystery of Planet X
24. Delia Derbyshire: Planetarium
25. Ernie: I Don’t Want to Live on the Moon

Pink Floyd: “Wot’s… Uh, the Deal?” (Obscured By Clouds, 1972)

It’s the curse of the middle child. Someone else came first and had all the attention to themselves, and then you were only the focus until the younger sibling came along and stole your thunder. When people talk about Pink Floyd, Obscured By Clouds usually rates little more than a passing mention, overwhelmed by the albums it sits between, Meddle and Dark Side of the Moon

Meddle earns its rep as the one that set the mold for the band, the one where they stopped flailing, focused, and made a really killer, back-to-front. Dark Side is of course the one that tens of millions of people all over the world bought, the one that’s still in heavy rotation on the radio today, the one that put them on an entirely different level.

And Obscured By Clouds is… the soundtrack they recorded in two weeks for Barbet Schroeder’s La Valee. It is easily the most conventional rock record the band ever made, a collection of ten songs, four of which are instrumentals, and two of which are almost shockingly tender ballads. There are no concepts, no extended pieces, no bits of studio experimentation. Only three of the songs ever made it into their live set (“Obscured by Clouds,” “When You’re In,” and “Childhood’s End”), and none stayed there for long. 

Even in Nick Mason’s own biography of the band, this album barely comes up. He spends a page talking about it, and introduces it as a distraction from the work of developing Dark Side. It’s really quite a good album, though, and rather makes me wonder what might’ve happened if the band had been put on a tight deadline more often.

It also rather casually marks a few landmarks in the development of the band. The title track and “Childhood’s End” feature Mason’s first use of electronic drums, which would rear their heads importantly on “Time” and “Welcome to the Machine” later one. The title track also features their first prominent use of the VCS3 synthesizer (those big, droning tones), which is one of the signature sounds of Dark Side

The VCS3 also features on “Free Four,” but that song is more important for being the first song in which Roger Waters brought together his disillusionment with the music business and his resentment of his father’s death at Anzio during World War II. “Free Four” is essentially the seed that grew into The Wall, though it approaches the subject matter with considerably more humor and bounce—it was also the band’s first big radio hit in the US.  

My favorite song was always the ballad that closed side one, “Wot’s… uh, the Deal?” I suspect that the hideously awkward title, which is actually sung in the song, was hilarious to the band at the time; now it’s just curious. Bu the song itself is lovely. the middle has both a guitar solo and a piano solo, but they’re quick, tight, and memorably melodic, and the lyrics, among the only ones on the album to tie in thematically to the movie, make for one of the band’s only direct love songs. 

The movie itself is a product of its time, which was really the last era when any part of the map of the Earth could still be marked “obscured by clouds.” It’s a post-hippie back-to-the-land story in its own way, with an upper crust woman joining a few other Europeans on a one-way journey into the backwoods of Papua New Guinea. The film has documentary-style scenes of the Mapuga people. 

The thing that keeps the film from descending into finding-yourself-through-primitivism/they-have-so-much-to-teach-us cliche is the fact that the travelers, idealistically searching for a Shangri-la in this uncharted, inaccessible valley are so obviously doomed. They have not even a fraction of the ability to survive in this place that the natives do, and Schroeder never pretends that they do. The movie essentially declares hippie idealism dead.

The band scored the film by watching rough cuts and timing them with stopwatches, which is not a very precise way to score a film. In the final cut, the songs are cross-faded in and out. A couple of them play diegetically over radios. 

The band titled the album Obscured By Clouds after a dispute with the film studio, rather than title it after the film. The film was retroactively retitled La Vallee (Obscured By Clouds) after Pink Floyd became global stars. 

"Wot’s… uh, the Deal?" song features the band at their most relaxed and easy-going, not a look we got often. It also provides a glimpse of the band we didn’t get, the one that settled into a comfortable groove making ten-song rock albums with no overarching themes. It’s probably a band that wouldn’t have gotten nearly so famous. But it could have been a good one nonetheless.

doomandgloomfromthetomb:

PINK FLOYD - Live at the Hollywood Bowl, September 22, 1972
Pink Floyd aficionado Joe over at Every Great Song Ever called this gig “among the best shows they ever played,” in particular singling out the version of “Echoes.” Embarrassingly, I’d never heard it til today! But now we can all listen to it. It is indeed a killer show, with the full Dark Side of the Moon set kicking things off in glorious fashion. This is a little while before Dark Side would be released, so they’re playing an embryonic, not-quite-fully-formed version of the album, which is always cool to hear. Looser, groovier, you know? Then things get really loose as the Floyd moves onto an amazing second set of extended interstellar explorations. This “mastertape” audience recording ain’t perfect, but it’ll do! [Interestingly, there’s also some Super 8 video footage of this show too, giving a grainy glimpse of what the stage setup was like on the 1972 tour.]
Set 1: Dark Side of the Moon - Breathe, On The Run, Time, Breathe Reprise, The Great Gig In The Sky, Money, Us And Them, Any Colour You Like, Brain Damage, Eclipse.
Set 2: One Of These Days, Careful With That Axe, Eugene, Echoes, A Saucerful Of Secrets.
Via Mindbending Music, a treasure trove of Floydian delights. 

Yeah, this is the show, good from front to back. I love the mid-1972 Dark Side, which so deftly strode the line between their loosely structured early material and their more song-oriented, arranged hits. I could listen to versions of “Any Colour You Like” for hours.

Edit: Oh, and! This is one of the evilest versions of “One of These Days” ever to make to tape. 

doomandgloomfromthetomb:

PINK FLOYD - Live at the Hollywood Bowl, September 22, 1972

Pink Floyd aficionado Joe over at Every Great Song Ever called this gig “among the best shows they ever played,” in particular singling out the version of “Echoes.” Embarrassingly, I’d never heard it til today! But now we can all listen to it. It is indeed a killer show, with the full Dark Side of the Moon set kicking things off in glorious fashion. This is a little while before Dark Side would be released, so they’re playing an embryonic, not-quite-fully-formed version of the album, which is always cool to hear. Looser, groovier, you know? Then things get really loose as the Floyd moves onto an amazing second set of extended interstellar explorations. This “mastertape” audience recording ain’t perfect, but it’ll do! [Interestingly, there’s also some Super 8 video footage of this show too, giving a grainy glimpse of what the stage setup was like on the 1972 tour.]

Set 1: Dark Side of the Moon - Breathe, On The Run, Time, Breathe Reprise, The Great Gig In The Sky, Money, Us And Them, Any Colour You Like, Brain Damage, Eclipse.

Set 2: One Of These Days, Careful With That Axe, Eugene, Echoes, A Saucerful Of Secrets.

Via Mindbending Music, a treasure trove of Floydian delights. 

Yeah, this is the show, good from front to back. I love the mid-1972 Dark Side, which so deftly strode the line between their loosely structured early material and their more song-oriented, arranged hits. I could listen to versions of “Any Colour You Like” for hours.

Edit: Oh, and! This is one of the evilest versions of “One of These Days” ever to make to tape.