Trying to pick an "ultimate album" is ultimately an exercise in subjectivity. But, as humans we always feel the need to categorize and rank things[1]. Having some sort of high-water mark to reference can aid in that endeavour, as well as illustrate the rubric and tastes employed by the person doing the ranking. For these reasons, I begrudgingly chose my ultimate album.
Although I realize that these types of things are innately nothing more than a personal opinion, I had a hard time selecting an ultimate album. I almost felt like I would be forced to defend and argue for this album for the rest of my life. This choice says something about me. Imagine if you had to get your favorite album from seventh grade tattooed on your forehead[2].
With this L.B. Jefferies-esque paranoia in mind, I chose Pink Floyd’s 1977 concept album Animals as my personal ultimate album[3]. Simultaneously a cult classic and underrated, Animals often gets overlooked. It is sandwiched between the heavyweights Wish You Were Here and The Wall. Not too mention still in the wake of the groundbreaking Dark Side of the Moon. The recording of the album also represents one of the many well-documented rough patches for the members of Pink Floyd. It was when Roger Waters first began to feel that he was the driving creative force behind the band, for better or worse, and made sure his fellow bandmates knew it. The mood in the studio was later described as “workman-like”, but that discordant atmosphere bred a collection of music that perfectly encapsulates the feelings of general tension and angst that are expressed in the lyrics.
Animals begins meekly with Roger Waters’ acoustic strumming on “Pigs on the Wing (Part I)”. He sings a pledge of love to his new wife that is as endearingly clumsy as it is relatable. “Dogs” fades in with sharp, contrasting chord changes that quickly sweep the listener from the bittersweet sentiments of the previous track. This is the start of the main misanthropic portion of the album. The scathing lyrics are paired with perfectly tense instrumental counterparts. David Gilmour’s ever tasteful guitar work is in full force here. He mixes lyrical melodies with screaming bends that cathartically complement the subject matter. The 17 minute long track shambles and swirls as Waters’ throws every neurotic accusation at humanity that his cynical mind can conjure. Where “Dogs” is a general condemnation of mankind, “Pigs (Three Different Ones)” is where Waters’ singles out his candidates for biggest disgraces to the human race. Though you may need a quick refresher on 1970’s British politics to understand the literal subject matter of the lyrics, “Pigs (Three Different Ones)”, like “Dogs”, contains timeless Orwellian critiques of human nature that are as applicable today as they were in 1977. Originally titled “Raving and Drooling”[4], “Sheep” is the yin to the yang of “Dogs”. It parodies the rationale of the weak, ignorant members of society that allow aggressive, sociopathic dogs to prey on their complacence and thereby flourish. In Waters’ view, these people are just as at fault for society’s ills by enabling the dogs to continue their exploitative behavior. This is particularly interesting, given Waters’ own reportedly dominating personality. His friends claim that he always gravitated towards people that stood up to his confrontational bullshit, rather than shy away from it. The album comes to a close with “Pigs on the Wing (Part II)”[5]. The corresponding bookend to the album opener features a similarly light mood that brings the listener back from the brink of absolute cynicism. It also features a potential Ol’ Diry Bastard style dick reference with the line “now that I've found somewhere safe to bury my bone”. Or maybe that’s just me.
Peoples’ tastes (thankfully) evolve over the course of their lives. Bands and albums that one day seem amazing can later induce feelings of regret and embarassment[6]. One of the reasons I chose Animals over other albums is its timelessness. The lyrical sentiments and instrumental elements are as relevent and applicable today as they were when the album was recorded. If I had to argue the merits of the album 20 years from now, I think I would still have a good case. Conversely, if I could hop into a Doc Brown navigated DeLorean and force my socially awkward 13 year old self to listen to the album, I think quasi-pubescent Dick would get into it.
This is the album that best represents what I like about music. It is my ultimate album. For the purpose of arbitrary yet interesting rankings and ratings, this is my gold standard that all others will be held up against. There can be only one!
[1] Just look at the bevy of “top ten” articles every other website is churning out these days. Top Ten Stoner Movies. Top Ten Quarterbacks of All Time. Top Ten Rimjobs. Don’t get me wrong --I click on them all.
[2] I likely would have had “Antichrist Superstar” tattooed on my forehead. One hopes it would have served as a convenient bullseye for a discerning sniper.
[3] Dark Side of the Moon is literally a perfect album, but it felt too obvious... too easy. I tend to make things difficult for myself. Kind of like the time I was arrested freshman year of college. I had to pick up trash outside of the dorms for my community service. When I wasn’t skipping out on it or sparking up conversations with passing coeds (you’d be surprised how good of an icebreaker litter reduction can be), I had a burned copy of DSOTM playing in my discman the entire time. It was one of my first times listening to the entire album straight through. I could write a whole separate essay on this enlightening experience.
[4] Thanks, Wikipedia!
[5] On the Animals 8-track, the two “Pigs on the Wing” tracks are fused into one song. The separate pieces are bridged by a guitar solo by a guy named Snowy White, who was apparently in Thin Lizzy during the early 80s. He actually sounds like he’s trying to impersonate David Gilmour, which more guitarists should probably do.
[6] Why is that? No one feels embarassed in hindsight for not knowing calculus in the third grade, but for some reason we hold the aesthetic tastes of our younger selves to a higher standard. Very few people are born cool (Johnny Depp, Robert Downey Jr., Kevin M. Johnstone), most of us have to learn as we go.
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