“The Wall” by Pink Floyd

The last great Pink Floyd album remains darkly compelling.

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Welcome to a new edition of the Best Music of All Time newsletter!

Today’s music pick dives deep into Pink Floyd’s last legitimately great album to coincide with its 45th anniversary.

Genre: Prog Rock, Psychedelic Rock

Label: Columbia

Release Date: November 30, 1979

Vibe: 🧱

Released with a little over a month left in the 1970s, The Wall capped one of the most impressive runs of commercial and critical success in the history of rock music. Beginning with Meddle in 1971, Pink Floyd churned out one classic after another. You have 1972’s severely underrated Obscured By Clouds, followed by a trio of records that need no introduction—Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and Animals. All that in just six years. It’s the 70s arena rock equivalent to Stevie Wonder’s Classic Period, which took place during a similar time frame. That symmetrical balance between artistic achievement and unprecedented global popularity will not be replicated again. Period.

That said, all the baggage surrounding The Wall and Roger Waters, the anti-hero at its center, weighs the double album’s legacy down considerably, like an anvil chained to one’s ankle. Waters had reached his breaking point with rock star fame long before any of the material discussed here was recorded. In July 1977, he famously spat on a fan while performing in my hometown, admitting later that he “was shocked” by his reaction to the audience’s seeming disinterest in the actual music. “I realized that what had once been a worthwhile and manageable exchange between us (the band) and them (the audience) had been utterly perverted by scale, corporate avarice, and ego,” he added. “All that remained was an arrangement that was essentially sadomasochistic.”

And yet, I get the impression he likes it that way. In the decades since, he’s reclaimed The Wall’s music as a vehicle for a warped brand of political commentary that’s veered unapologetically into antisemitic territory. Waters has been investigated for glorifying Nazi Germany and implied that a draconian “Jewish lobby” controls the entertainment industry. In other words, it helps him fit right in as a guest for Joe Rogan’s podcast.

I bring all this up because Waters’ reputation as a consistent spouter of caustic, harmful rhetoric can be directly tied to this album's personal and political tendencies. The rock star at the narrative’s center builds the eponymous wall around himself to avoid dealing with deep-rooted trauma and fear, pushing himself further into the kind of dangerous isolation that can send your life into a tailspin. For all of the emotional grandeur David Gilmour wrings out of two incredible guitar solos, “Comfortably Numb” is, at its core, about being so despondent and disconnected from reality that only a cornucopia of drugs will get the protagonist to walk out on stage. It’s a lot. None of the Pink Floyd LPs I mentioned off the top are “happy” listens, to be sure, but none of them wallow in self-pity quite like this one.

Waters works through some dark subject matter throughout this 80-minute listen, getting so personal at times that, if he were sitting across a table from you voicing these displeasures over dinner, you’d desperately be trying to change the subject. But, by the record’s end, you’re also left with a deep sense of catharsis, as if the protagonist (and perhaps Waters himself) finally found some modicum of peace after confronting the bleakest human tendencies head-on. Feeling tremendous guilt due to visions of leading an uprising that leads to hate crimes, the protagonist persecutes himself (“The Trial”) and, eventually, tears down the figurative wall he’d insulated himself with. Or so we’re meant to believe. However, since The Wall was edited in such a way that the final seconds of the last track blend seamlessly into the opening seconds of the first track, the implication seems to be that the protagonist will always be perilously close to repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

After the first hour, when the central character’s onstage persona becomes a full-blown, openly discriminatory fascist leader (“In The Flesh”), I was reminded of Joseph Conrad’s quote from Heart of Darkness: “We live as we dream—alone. While the dream disappears, the life continues painfully.” That’s more or less the morale of the story. The fictional rock star achieves his dream, only to discover how empty an existence it really is once it becomes a reality. Everything I’ve read about the in-fighting between band members and Waters’ controlling nature in the studio, I can imagine it was a sentiment shared by the rest of Pink Floyd. They were fabulously wealthy and famous musicians, but the bloom was officially off the rose.

Waters’ open-veined songwriting is eerily compelling on its own, but the most intriguing aspects of this record are the interconnected themes that reward multiple listens. For example, the sad portrait of an overbearing matriarch (“Mother”) informs the attitudes towards women later on (“Young Lust”), where he more or less admits that his fascination with sex stems from his fear of it (and perhaps the emotional vulnerability it can represent). Your mileage will vary for how much of this vibe you can take in one sitting, but as an utterly transfixing character study a la Taxi Driver, it more than holds its own.

The most enduring cut off The Wall is “Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 2,” a deceptively rich text. Built on a disco-leaning groove not dissimilar to what the Rolling Stones did on “Miss You,” it’s openly critical of not just the education system but, to a degree, what intellectualism stands for overall. It’s a genuinely creepy song, particularly when the children’s choir kicks in after the first chorus. The refrain, “Hey, teacher, leave us kids alone,” has a militant protest energy to it, one that’s amplified by the cartoonish visuals accompanying it in the 1982 film adaptation of the album. The contrast is more stark because of how upbeat the instrumental is compared to the lyrics. Gimour’s guitar solo has a funky streak, almost daring you not to tap your foot or nod your head along to messaging that’s the opposite of feel-good.

It will surprise no one to learn that critics were initially split on The Wall. Several, including Rolling Stone’s Kurt Loder, praised it for its “relentless lyrical rage that’s clearly genuine.” Others, like the Village Voice’s Robert Christgau, called it “self-indulgent” and “dumb,” likening the main character’s supposed heroism to shallow self-absorption, a take Christgau was criticized for at the time. With the benefit of historical context, I think both can be true. The kind of intense introspection can still be morbidly captivating, even if the ugliness it reveals makes you want to look away at various points. The unanswerable question is how honest Waters is with himself and, by extension, his listeners. Can you take his sentiments about oppression, violence, and the poisoning of a young mind seriously? Is it the most gut-wrenching rock opera ever created or the most shameless example of emotional grandstanding that became more common during the tail end of rock’s last dominant era?

Maybe the answers to those questions don’t matter in the long run. Generations of fans have repeatedly shelled out hard-earned money for this record, with estimates putting it north of 30 million copies sold worldwide. It’s not quite Dark Side of the Moon levels of ubiquity, but it’s more than enough to make it the best-selling double album ever. For such a roller coaster of a listening experience to be that popular, it must tap into universal human truths, even if they’re uncomfortable to grapple with.

👉 Don’t forget to click the album image to stream the album on your favorite platform 👈