Pink Floyd Dark Side Of The Moon and the discovery. . . . . .

Looking back now it staggers me that I was fourteen when this record gripped me. I mean, what on earth would a relatively happy fourteen year old need from a progressive concept album made by a bunch of dinosaurs with a silly name, that, say, a Super Nintendo and a milkshake couldn't provide? The answer, my friends, is I still don't know. What I do know is this: Dark Side Of The Moon was like an alien spacecraft smashing through my roof in the dead of night, exploding into a kaleidoscope of colours, lights, images and feelings. It came from absolutely nowhere, and, to this day, is every inch as mesmerising as that first time I got my hands on it.

The night, if I remember rightly, was way back in 1997. I had gone to Tesco one evening with my Dad since it had begun opening late, and, as usual, buried myself in the CD isle, staring at the album covers and scanning the booklets. That was something I loved to do; I would regularly walk into town on a Saturday afternoon and jump from record shop to record shop staring in wide-eyed wonder at all of the names and faces on the record sleeves. Back then Southport was full of music orientated shops - Andy's Records, Market Records, MVC, Our Price - and Woolworths and WH Smiths also had extensive music departments. On this particular night my eye was drawn to the most fascinating record cover I think I'd ever seen - the now iconic prism of light that graces Dark Side. I picked it up and even then it felt like a piece of pure gold in my hand. Something inside told me I just had to have it. I harassed my Dad to buy it for me - needless to say he eventually gave in, and there I was, travelling home as the neon lights flashed by with one of the greatest albums ever made in my possession.



I knew nothing about Pink Floyd before I put the album into the player that night. Nothing at all. I had, of course, heard the name banded about, but had no idea what people were talking about. Little under an hour later I felt like I'd been sat in the studio with the band as they recorded it. That was how consuming this record was the first time I played it. I'd never heard anything like it in my life. From the emerging heartbeat at the beginning of the record to the dramatic, almost orchestral 'eclipse' at the end, I felt totally and utterly compelled. The concept - a man sinking into uncontrollable paranoia and depression - is not the ideal light relief one might command from a record. However, its sheer tenacity and alchemy is impossible to ignore. Somehow, somewhere inside my mind I felt like a door had been unlocked. I could breathe this music in - that's how powerful it seemed. Gilmour's guitar work on Breathe is quite simply immense. His vocal is equally as good. In fact, as the record progressed, I felt like I'd been taken on a journey through many different soundscapes and realms. On The Run and Time are both brilliantly inventive and experimental, whilst The Great Gig In The Sky - an adorable Rick Wright-penned piano piece - stands out as the album's defining moment. The ad-lib vocal solo by Clare Torry is, to this day (in my opinion) the greatest ever vocal recorded. It is beyond sublime. Many a night has passed by in which this song has eased the troubles at my door. It is purely magical.

Money - one of the few songs ever written in 7/4 time - is the perfect sequel to Torry's startling performance. It is a song that says so much about capitalist greed, selfishness, ego and paranoia. Waters excels himself with such superbly crafted lyrics. Us and Them is a haunting reminder of the initial concept, Brain Damage a terrifying account of mental breakdown, and Eclipse the perfect, manic crescendo at the end of a stunning forty odd minutes.

Several years later, when I went off to Sheffield to study for a degree in English, I found that many of my fellow students heralded this album in the same way that I did. Many a drunken and, admittedly, stoned night culminated with Dark Side at 4am. It provides the perfect escape from a world so cold and ruthless; a perfect escape from a life so often so bland. A defining moment in my life came in Hyde Park, London, a few years back when I saw Roger Waters perform Dark Side from start to finish with an all-star band - an evening I'll remember forever. David Gilmour, when interviewed in recent years, commented that he couldn't quite believe the monster they had created when he first listened to the record back. Well, David, I still can't believe it, and the chances are I never will.