Animals. Diseño: Jennifer Ancízar / Magazine AM:PM.
Animals. Diseño: Jennifer Ancízar / Magazine AM:PM.

The Scratched Record: Animals

4 minutos / Carlos M. Mérida

18.08.2020 / Worn-out record,  Reviews

Pink Floyd has always been the old man's favorite band, although before I became obsessed with them he had heard, at most, five songs; really. The cigar is an incredible guy.

I suppose he never had the chance to buy a record or a cassette of the group, at a time when neither records nor money grew wild. He lived at the mercy of some radio station that played this kind of music and, a little later, the program A cappella.

I grew up listening to my dad mutter the first words of the lyrics to Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2), in a jargon that was neither English nor was it anything, something like: “Dido boy, eduquéichon” (that's how he said, “boy ”, Clearly, I swear). It was like his work tune.

He called me every time there was something about Pink Floyd on TV or radio - it could even be another artist covering his songs - and I had to buzz all the time to those fuzzies. One Sunday afternoon in A cappella, he sat me next to him to see these weird images of some guys making a dog sing; the old man, all sublime, and I wanting to go to my room to strike out Vico C from the late '90s. Later I learned the story of the dog, and that the images belonged to the iconic Live at Pompeii concert.

Years after that afternoon - which seemed like a lot but it wasn't that many - I burned my first two Pink Floyd records. He only had one CD to copy various things he wanted, so I had to choose two albums from his entire discography. I went to the Dark Side of the Moon (Abbey Road Studios, 1973), because I knew it was a classic, and to Animals (Vinyl, 1977), because I thought, given the name, that here was the recording of that star dog of the band - which it wasn't, because those howls were recorded for Meddle (Harvest Records, 1971), six years earlier.

I was already getting on badly with the cigar. A constant war. It was normal. I was 15 and everything was going to decompose, doubt and question. However, with the arrival of the CD, we inadvertently invented these truces of locking ourselves in my room to listen to Pink Floyd for almost the first time, the two of us.

Many times I said, as if it were something important, that my favorite song on Earth was Dogs, the second track of this album, contained in side A of the original long play, which occupied almost the entire length, in the proportion that a whale blue occupies any pond other than the ocean. I also said, in the same way, that the guitar solo that begins at minute 5:33 and ends at 6:47 was the one that most deserved to represent the immense David Gilmour on the Rolling Stone list, above those he performs in Comfortably Numb, Time, and Money, those chosen by the prestigious magazine, and that only proved that you didn't have to got the physical form of Yngwie Malmsteen or Joe Satriani to be a great violent.

I tell you another story.

In the pre I was with a Discman, but I had neither headphones nor speakers, I had to borrow them. One pepillo had PC speakers, but no playback device. He would come to my classroom for self-study time and we would put on music. Each one contributed her benefit; a round contract. The downside was that I didn't like what he heard - which was essentially reggaeton - and vice versa; there was always a different problem with that.

We agreed one night, the last one, that we would put on two consecutive songs each. On my first shift I played Sheep, which was ten minutes long, and Dogs, which was seventeen. There was empingue and unilateral termination. Without compensation, also, because I had complied. It wasn't my fault those guys had so many things to say.

Carlos M. Mérida

Oidor. Coleccionista sin espacio. Leguleyo. Temeroso de las abejas y de los vientos huracanados.

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    Muy buen artículo!!

    Más en El disco rayado

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