QotD: Pink Floyd

"Wish You Were Here," the much anticipated followup, is one of those albums that seems made for concerts. By which I mean you can get up and leave your seat and go take a leak and buy a beer and come back and they're still going on about it. Oh, and it's about Syd Barrett, who took acid and went nutters on everyone, which was apparently a great tragedy for Western culture akin to J. D. Salinger's silence. "Animals" is just as long, but somewhat better. The target of the massively wealthy rock group's scorn, however, seems to be men who are reasonably content in their office jobs. If there was any justice the world would have best-selling authors who took time off as a middle manager to write brilliant scathing novels about bitter stick-thin tyros who parlayed three chords and fashionable scorn into a license to get his groinal area pogo'd by interchangeable doxies while he suckled on a magnum of good champagne. Nightly.

Is there anyone luckier than the drummer for Floyd? Talk about an undemanding job with great benefits.

James Lileks, The Bleat, 2005-11-04