Oh look! Another massively overrated album by Pink Floyd that (typical for Pink Floyd,) doesn’t qualify for progressive rock in the slightest, has nonstop nihilistic ramblings and has a concept! “In the Flesh” (and its utterly useless reprise) have massive sounding riffs. “Happiest Days of Our Lives” is a fucking triumph that not only perfectly connects the sandwiching tracks, it also establishes its own identity, urgency, melody, and climax – all under 2 minutes! “Another Brick in the Wall Part II” is one of the few songs that works in a children’s choir that isn’t exploitative, and indeed revolutionary (though Kanye West will do it better on “We Don’t Care”). The Cold War anxiety-cum-Oedipus Rexian “Mother” is a nice strum set against a really lovely synth tone. “Goodbye Blue Sky” has a nice skittering hook juxtaposing the acoustic ambient transitionary passages. “Comfortably Numb” – their last great song – is the only reason the second disc exists. That’s it, and the rest of this album falls into one of these three buckets: sheer ugliness (“The Trial”), Queen-like melodrama (they even have a song with the same title!), or 1-minute concept-furthering tracks that everyone seems to take umbrage with on Tommy but are perfectly okay when Pink Floyd does it.
People who say they identify with this album – that is to say, they identify with a rockstar who spits in the faces of his fans, and who wants to fuck his mother, and who hates his life and everyone around him because he was named “Vagoo” (paraphrasing) – worry me. Oh, sorry, these people identify with the fact that the main character has built a wall around him? You mean to say, they identify with everyone? Christ.