Pink Floyd - A Momentary Lapse of Reason (1987)

Dan:

I reasoned wrongly that Pink Floyd was pretty much finished after releasing The Final Cut four years after The Wall. The Wall had exceeded my expectations and was so unique that it succeeded in spite of itself. I "got" The Final Cut, both literally and figuratively, but the heavy hand of Roger Waters and the lack of subtlety or nuance made it a chore to listen to. Plus, I thought the album title was a signal that it was going to be the band's signoff. That was not to be.

In 1987, Pink Floyd released A Momentary Lapse of Reason, which seemed like a comeback album to me. Roger Waters had left the band, thereby relieving much of the tension between him and David Gilmour. With Gilmour, Richard Wright, and Nick Mason operating as a trio aided by 16 (!) contributing guests, Pink Floyd were a long way from their early days jamming as a quartet. The band had become a touring stadium-filler with all sorts of special effects flying into view and a sound loud and clear enough to reach the last row of the upper deck. 

The live shows also included numerous guest musicians and did an amazing job of performing new material from Momentary Lapse while honoring fans' wishes to hear favorites from earlier classic albums, mostly Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and The Wall. A 1994 concert was memorialized on the Pulse CD and DVD, which show how the new and old material were programmed. 

Momentary Lapse included five great songs by Gilmour. "On the Turning Away" and "Sorrow" are my favorites, followed closely by "One Slip," "Terminal Frost, "and "Learning to Fly." "Turning Away" offers hope that people will not "turn away from the weak and the weary." The phrase "where the speechless unite in a silent accord" always gets me, as does the closing stanza:

Just a world that we all must share

It's not enough just to stand and stare

Is it only a dream that there'll be

No more turning away?

Anyone coming of age in the 60s, as Pink Floyd did, can relate to the hope of one world in harmony, even if it may only be a dream.

"Sorrow" is introduced by one of the most incredible instrumental moments since Dark Side of the Moon. Gilmour amps up his Steinberger GL guitar piped into the band's sound system inside the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena, yielding an extremely deep, cavernous sound. The closing verse offers little hope to the plight of the modern world:

There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night

And there's dust in my eyes that blinds my sight

And silence that speaks so much louder than words

Of promises broken

Obviously, lyrics like these make Momentary Lapse one of gravest albums produced by Pink Floyd. Gilmour knew that whatever he composed and placed onto an album would be heard by millions of people. The issues addressed are important ones that he chose to feature on his worldwide platform. 

Steve:

The re-launch of Pink Floyd in 1987 following Roger Waters' departure came as something of a surprise, not least to Roger Waters himself. Having considered the band "over", he soldiered on with his solo career (his second album, Radio KAOS, was released the same year as Momentary Lapse), and David Gilmour had also made strong efforts to bolster his own solo career. Gilmour's About Face (1984) had been a moderate success and a very accessible album, but it didn't sell in Pink Floyd numbers by a long shot. Another Gilmour solo effort eventually gained enough momentum to justify the use of the Pink Floyd name once Nick Mason and Richard Wright offered their contributions. Many Floyd fans (including Waters himself) have argued vehemently online and in print that the Floyd without Waters was a sham, but I'll refrain from turning this post into yet another installment of The Pros and Cons of Bitching About Pink Floyd and focus on the music the new band gave us.

I was a freshman in college when Momentary Lapse was released, and as a confirmed Floyd fan, I was all too happy to scoop it up at my first opportunity. Although the booming production, prodigious use of outside musicians, and employment of modern synthesizers dates this album a bit, on the whole the songs are very good, and sound pretty great as well. "One Slip" (co-written by Gilmour and guitarist Phil Manzanera) has always been a favorite, with its techno-chug providing a lot of propulsion and its thoughtful lyric about a hasty marriage that is immediately recognized as a mistake. I see a sonic connection between "One Slip" and Gilmour's prior solo single "Blue Light", a rare but successful attempt to make the Floyd sound danceable.  

"Sorrow", the closing track, is another highlight. It marches along at a medium tempo that imparts ennui and determination at the same time, and features strong lead guitar accents from Gilmour, including a wall-shaking (especially live) guitar intro that Dan refers to. Initiating a trend that would characterize every subsequent Floyd or solo Gilmour album, Momentary Lapse opens with a mood-setting instrumental, "Signs of Life". Such tracks were always effective, offering a quietly dramatic introduction to albums. Less typical is the album's other instrumental, "Terminal Frost", which offers a Floydian take on either soundtrack music or lite jazz, but actually reminds me of "The Working Hour" on Tears for Fears' Songs from the Big Chair.

The release of A Momentary Lapse of Reason precipitated a years-long legal battle between Roger Waters and the rest of the band, a sad chapter in the band's history. The parties have only occasionally been on speaking terms ever since. As much as I regret the tainting of the memorable story of my favorite band of all time, I'm glad to have this album and its follow-ups, as they contain some very good music and gave me an additional taste of Pink Floyd long after they'd been assumed dead and buried.

David Sylvian - Secrets of the Beehive (1987)

Dan:

David Sylvian's solo career easily surpassed anything he did in his former group, Japan. Secrets of the Beehive was his third full album before his two collaborations with Holger Czukay, of Can fame. The earlier Brilliant Trees (1984) is similar to Secrets of the Beehive, while Gone to Earth (1986) adds Robert Fripp and leans in the direction of ambient music with vocals on only half the tunes. 

Beehive is a wonderful album, completely composed and arranged by Sylvian. It's moodier than Japan's 1980 album, Gentlemen Take Polaroids (reviewed earlier), and sparser in terms of instrumentation. I enjoy the variety of guitarists used (David Torn, Phil Palmer, and Sylvian himself), the trumpet of Mark Isham, Steve Jansen (Sylvian's brother) on percussion, and most of all the incredible bass of the legendary Danny Thompson. Listen to the opening bars of "The Boy With the Gun," and you will surely agree. Throughout, the spatial arrangements allow each instrument to be heard clearly, and their interaction behind the soft vocals is quite moving.

Beyond the 1980s, it's hard to get a firm grasp on Sylvian's recording projects. The bleak and mostly improvised Rain Tree Crow (1991) had a following, but it felt directionless to me. (Coming from the jazz world, I have pretty high standards for free improvisation). I've not heard either of his 1999 releases: Approaching Silence (designed to be heard during a visual art exhibition) or Dead Bees on a Cake. I avoided a later project with Derek Bailey (Blemish, 2003) and everything else since The First Day, his mostly successful 1993 collaboration with Robert Fripp. Ryuichi Sakamoto has also collaborated with Sylvian on a variety of projects, continuing their first encounter on Gentlemen Take Polaroids. The projects are scattered in various places like much of Sylvian's discography. 

I think we're lucky that Sylvian focused on making albums with Japan and as a solo artist between 1980 and 1989. Secrets of the Beehive, Brilliant Trees, and Gone to Earth are all understated (by rock standards) but full of thoughtful songs and expert playing. I consider them to be minor masterpieces. 

Steve:

Gone to Earth may be my clear favorite Sylvian recording, but Secrets of the Beehive is nearly as impressive, albeit with a very different focus. Sylvian's albums are all fairly mellow on average, but Beehive is even more understated and spare than normal for him. However, he has made excellent choices of collaborators - particularly in David Torn and Danny Thompson - who consistently paint their unique sounds around the soft, flowing songs and provide no end of excitement even when their paintbrush strokes are barely a whisper in the mix.  

Secrets of the Beehive has aged incredibly well too. Were I hearing it for the first time today, I would be surprised to learn it was released in 1987, a time when even the most sophisticated pop artists in their most organic moods produced albums with a recognizably 1980s sheen, for better or worse. Pianos, acoustic guitars, upright bass, brushed drums and a bucketload of ambience all contributed to a very natural, easy-on-the-ears album that's perfect for late night chilling out.

R.E.M. - Document (1987)

Dan:

Document was R.E.M.'s fifth album, released two years after Fables of the Reconstruction. It arrived in the midst of my R.E.M. frenzy about the time Steve was headed to college, where I expected his classmates were also in R.E.M. frenzies. After all, the band was from the college town of Athens, GA. But Steve rebelled and got caught up in the Canterbury prog scene, leaving his old dad alone to pick his way through popular rock bands of the day.

I was glad to discover Document, which continued a strong run of albums from Michael Stipe and company. Like Steely Dan before them, success led to more polished production and, in Document's case, a harder edge. It worked for me, especially the few songs that I tended to play over and over. 

The song I played the most was the album's closer, "Oddfellow's Local 151." Following a sustained twang from Peter Buck's guitar, a cool repeated riff sets the tone. Stipe's lyrics take the listener to a place behind the firehouse where a dude named Pee Wee holds court over the locals. I had created a clear mental image of this place and the characters involved. The song never details Pee Wee's agenda, which could have been anything, so I supplied my own. The song turns out to be far more mundane than I imagined; Pee Wee was one of a bunch of drunkards who slept in their cars near a bar called Oddfellows behind the firehouse near where the band members lived. And here I was thinking it was the Klu Klux Klan! Regardless, I still think it's one of R.E.M.'s best songs if only because of the riff.

Other excellent songs on Document include "Welcome to the Occupation," "Disturbance at the Heron House," and "Exhuming McCarthy." Although falling short of taking any discernible social or political stance, the songs are at least about something, in contrast to some of their earlier albums that included songs that made little lyrical sense. Songwriting seemed to be taken more seriously as the band matured. 

Steve:

R.E.M.'s commercial fortunes were definitely rising around the time I went to college and Document was released. I never owned a copy of my own until fairly recently, and I still don't know many of the songs that well, but re-listening to it for this review had me nonetheless impressed. They were still in their "indie" sounding phase, not yet the stadium rockers they would be in a few years' time, but their sound is muscular, well-organized, and full of interesting musical ideas. 

"The One I Love" is the first R.E.M. song I recall getting serious radio play. It's a well-constructed piece, with a ringing guitar hook introducing the song and punctuating the verses, some neat lyrical hooks, not to mention a clever subtext that most listeners might miss if they don't listen closely. But that song was nothing compared to "It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)", which was played at nearly every party I attended while at college. None of us could follow the rapid-fire verses (except the "Leonard Bernstein!" part, of course), but when it came to the singalong chorus, we'd pipe in "It's the part of the song that we knowwww" and then congratulate ourselves for our edgy cleverness.

Document was indirectly responsible for my discovery of what became one of my favorite bands, Wire. The song "Strange" (from Wire's debut album Pink Flag) appears on Document, which planted the first seed of my interest. The following year I saw Wire's A Bell Is a Cup Until it Is Struck album in the racks with a hype sticker quoting Michael Stipe saying how influential Wire had been to him. It was my first Wire album, and I still regard their albums highly today.

While I never did quite regain the love that I had for R.E.M. after their first three albums, revisiting Document makes me think that I may be missing out. Each song held my interest and had a good riff, lyric, and/or musical idea. Many people consider Document to be the band's peak, and I can see why.

10,000 Maniacs - In My Tribe (1987)

Dan:

As the 1980s progressed, the boundaries of classic prog expanded. Our entries may therefore be challenged by purist progheads. In particular, In My Tribe by 10,000 Maniacs should raise a few eyebrows because it seems to cross a lot of the supposed boundaries defining prog. It's led by a female singer, Natalie Merchant; the band received endless exposure during the heydays of MTV; there are no jamming or jazzy tunes; and no purely instrumental tracks were included on the album. Nonetheless, I can't help but include it because it's one of the best albums of the 1980s, regardless of genre or subgenre. I'm sure not everyone would agree with me, and many listeners grew tired of Merchant's later work and constant celebrity. I too spent hardly any time on the group's subsequent albums. But that's not grounds to devalue In My Tribe. 

The themes of In My Tribe's songs deal with contemporary social issues such as child abuse ("What's the Matter Here"), alcoholism ("Don't Talk"), military induction ("Gun Shy"), seasonal affective disorder ("Like the Weather") and generally reflect modern liberal values. (Suzanne Vega tackled some of these same issues on her album Solitude Standing from the same year.) I like the Maniacs' songs for their lyrics and messages but also for their musicianship and arrangements. "Gun Shy" deals with a sister's misgivings about her younger brother's choice to serve in the military, which seems to me like a reasonable worry. Not all are heavy. "My Sister Rose" is a joyful song about a wedding, and "The Painted Desert" is a great song about a hopeful reunion that may never come. All of the songs on the album are permanently stuck in my memory and retrievable on call (stereo system optional).

The final song, "Verdi Cries," is both the simplest and most moving. It deals with the innocent experience of overhearing opera every day from another apartment during a holiday. Merchant caresses the tune as the holiday ends and she has almost learned the entire score to Aida (Verdi's classic opera). 

Some may feel that these themes are too trifling or precious to be good rock 'n' roll, but I happen to appreciate music drawn from more feminine inspirations, and the 80s were a good time for aspiring female stars to stake their claim in the rock universe. In contrast to their more common role of background vocalists, women emerged as songwriters, lead singers, band leaders, and instrumentalists. Prog seems to benefit whenever female contributions are placed in (or near) the spotlight, however briefly. 

The following women are all represented in our blog. Can you find their groups?

Grace Slick, Amanda Parsons, Polly Samson, Toni Tennille, Gillian Gilbert, Christine McVie, Isabelle Fueillebois, Alice Coltrane, Tina Weymouth, Jessica Kion, Clare Torry, Kate Bush, Sophie Trudeau, Carla Diratz, Donna Jean Godchaux, Susan Hoover, Annie Haslam, Caroline Joy Clarke, Jasmine Veillette, Deborah Santana, Alfreda Benge, Deborah Workman, Julie Covington, Bridgett Wishart, Jenny Conlee, Isobel Sollenberger, Ann Odell, Courtney Swain, Annette Peacock, Stella Vander, and Carla Bley.

10,000 Maniacs took a political stance when they decided to exclude Cat Stevens' "Peace Train" from reissues of In My Tribe. Stevens had embraced Islam and was accused of making comments supporting radical Islamic politics. Stevens, then known as Yusuf Islam, was vilified in the US media, which influenced the Maniacs to remove the song while many radio stations banned all of Stevens' music. Unfortunately, "Peace Train" was one of the best songs on In My Tribe. I have the complete vinyl release and listen to it guilt free. 

Steve:

10,000 Maniacs were a band that was always in the background of my college life. Many of my friends had In My Tribe, who seemed to be a part of a movement of 60s-influenced jangle rock Americana (read: Byrds influenced) that was earning a lot of popularity in the late 1980s. R.E.M. were kings of this domain, but 10,000 Maniacs proved to be very popular as well (coincidentally, R.E.M. singer Michael Stipe guests on "A Campfire Song"). Once out of college, everyone I knew had a copy of Natalie Merchant's Tigerlily, so I heard that a lot as well.

Although I liked the sound (and specifically, Merchant's voice), I never really sat down and listened to a full album on my own before embarking on this blog. On the surface, it does seem a strange inclusion for a prog-inclined blog, but no stranger than R.E.M. or New Order or any number of bands we've included here. The important thing with music like this is that it gives you plenty to think about, if you so wish. The musical arrangements are eclectic ("Sister Rose" even has some mariachi elements) and the lyrics offer unique takes on a number of topics. Dan already mentioned the opener "What's the Matter Here?" and that lyric does stand out as a strong screed directed at an abusive parent. The aforementioned "Sister Rose" paints a clear portrait of real characters and real places to make a more general statement about the tradition of weddings and the sexist practices therein that are accepted as the status quo.

In My Tribe is a welcome re-entrant into my musical consciousness. I may go and grab a copy of Tigerlily too the next chance I get.