Co-producer: James Guthrie
Sound Engineers: James Guthrie, Nick Griffiths, Patrice Quef, Brian Christian, Rick Hart
Genesis
“Waiting for the Worms” concludes the “totalitarian cycle” of three songs that began with “In the Flesh.” Behind the wall, lying low in his bunker, Pink awaits the arrival of the worms, in other words his henchmen, the hammers. The rock star’s ramblings have taken an unsuspected and even more disturbing turn. At the head of nothing less than an army, whose soldiers have been asked to wear black shirts, he has taken it upon himself to clean up the city, that is to say to implement the final solution, to turn on the showers and fire the ovens ready to receive the queers, the reds, and the Jews so that Britannia can once again rule the world. The ultimate horror, in other words… In order to describe these monstrous “cleaners,” Waters uses the phrase waiting for the worms, “in theatrical terms […] an expression of what happens in the show when the drugs start wearing off and his real feelings of what he’s got left start taking over again.”126
Although Roger Waters is clearly describing the dark years of the Second World War, the countless martyrs of Nazism and the “Blackshirts” of Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists, he is also referencing the situation in contemporary Britain: the growing influence of the National Front and the race riots that were starting to shake the multicultural district of Brixton in London, accompanied by police violence. (These riots would grow steadily worse, eventually making news headlines all over the world in 1981.) Here too, Roger Waters draws a parallel between fascist rallies and rock ’n’ roll concerts and creates a particular, highly symbolic effect, as he explains to Tommy Vance: “After ‘Run Like Hell’ you can hear an audience shouting ‘Pink Floyd’ on the left-hand side of the stereo, if you’re listening in cans, and on the right-hand side or in the middle, you can hear voices going ‘hammer,’ they’re saying ‘ham-mer, ham-mer’… This is the Pink Floyd audience, if you like, turning into a rally.”126
Production
Eins, zwei, drei, alle! (one, two, three, everyone!): it is with this count-in in the language of Goethe that Roger Waters launches the song, whose intro takes the form of yet another fantastic homage to the Beach Boys, with Bruce Johnston and his cohort providing an indispensable authentic touch. “Musically, I’ve gotta represent a vast amount of saccharine. Toni’s gotta represent a lot of fluff. There we are, singing songs about worms on this album that certainly has to be 180 degrees from what the Beach Boys do.”9 Johnston is probably right, but the blend of the two musical worlds is one of the triumphs of The Wall, the saccharine and the sardonic proving an unexpected recipe for success. Before long, Gilmour, Ezrin, and Waters add their own backing vocals to those of the Californian gang. The accompaniment consists of two rhythm guitar parts played by David Gilmour on the “Black Strat,” colored by the Electric Mistress and heavily distorted. Gilmour also plays the Prophet-5 and the bass. Ezrin is on piano and Mason on drums (recorded on the upper floor at Britannia Row). Gilmour begins the lead vocal in a gentle, reassuring voice. This is immediately counterbalanced by Waters, who is aggressive and cynical. Mason marks the beat with what sounds like a combination of bass drum and toms, recorded close to the drumheads and with significant compression. Moreover, his beat is almost certainly reinforced by VCS3. After the first two verses, the rhythm hardens, and Waters takes to declaiming his extremely poisonous text in a theatrical tone and apparently through a megaphone, an effect obtained by means of equalization and a delay (from 1:20). Written using the technique of anaphora (the repetition of the same word or phrase in successive clauses), the start of each line, that is to say the word waiting, is picked out by the backing vocalists, with Waters answering in his sententious voice. The rhythm is heavy and very basic, with distorted guitars to the fore and a lead guitar in the background, the whole thing forming a strong contrast with the calmer sections of the song. In the following sequence, Gilmour resumes lead vocal (from 2:09), accompanied by vocal harmonies from Johnston and his gang. Mason plays a highly compressed ride cymbal, creating a curious but interesting pumping effect.
For the outro, Waters picks up his “megaphone” again, the rhythm once more becomes heavy and basic, the distorted Strats are to the fore, Wright’s Hammond organ boosts the overcharged atmosphere a little further, and we hear the crowd’s chilling Hammer! chants, with Waters delirious in their midst, gradually rising in intensity.
In addition to its musical and narrative qualities, “Waiting for the Worms” is the result of an incredible feat of production by the talented Bob Ezrin, who has succeeded in alternating diametrically opposed atmospheres, to amazing effect, within one and the same song.
Bruce Johnston was surprised to find himself singing a song entitled “Waiting for the Worms,” given that in 1966 the Beach Boys’ brilliant composer Brian Wilson, in collaboration with his lyricist Van Dyke Parks, had written a song “Do You Like Worms?” Initially intended for the album Smile, the song never saw the light of day under the band’s name.
Stop
Roger Waters / 0:30
Musicians
Roger Waters: vocals
Bob Ezrin: piano
Michael Kamen: orchestration and conducting
New York Symphony: orchestra
Recorded
Britannia Row, Islington, London: September 1978–March 1979
Super Bear Studios, Berre-les-Alpes, Alpes-Maritimes (France): April–July 1979
Studio Miraval, Domaine de Miraval, Le Val, Var (France): April–July 1979
CBS Studios, New York City: August 1979
Producers Workshop, Hollywood: September 12–November 1, 1979
Technical Team
Producers: Bob Ezrin, David Gilmour, Roger Waters
Co-producer: James Guthrie
Sound Engineers: James Guthrie, Nick Griffiths, Patrice Quef, Brian Christian, Rick Hart, John McClure
Genesis
“Stop” seems to be the song that marks a return to reality—a certain kind of reality, at any rate. Following the powerful effects of the drug and his totalitarian ravings in front of a bewitched crowd, Pink finally awakens from his long nightmare. He claims to want to go home, take off his uniform, and leave the show.
Have his eyes been opened? This is by no means certain, as he still finds it necessary to ask whether he has been guilty all this time. Guilty of having constructed the wall that has isolated him from the world? Guilty of having advocated violence and oppression? Whichever it is, it is too late, as Pink has now been locked up. In Alan Parker’s movie we see him sitting in the bathroom of the cells reading his book of poems. He is awaiting trial. “So the judge is part of him just as much as all the other characters and things he remembers…,” explains Roger Waters to Tommy Vance, “they’re all in his mind, they’re all memories.”126
Production
At the end of “Waiting for the Worms,” we hear Roger Waters holding forth through his megaphone in the midst of a delirious crowd. Suddenly a resounding Stop! supported by orchestra (the New York Symphony) puts an end to his verbal diarrhea. It is accompanied by grand piano alone, played by Bob Ezrin, that Waters then performs the shortest song on the album. Theatrical, strained, and plaintive in tone, Waters sings in a high vocal register, needing this physical tension in order to give full expression to his emotions. He has come a long way from his early lead vocals, such as “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun,” “Grantchester Meadows,” and “If,” which were virtually whispered. Since that time he has asserted himself to the full, wholeheartedly taken on the role of lead singer, and with The Wall achieved a major feat. The final words of the two last lines of the song are colored by a delay with abundant feedback, an effect of which the group—and apparently Ezrin too—was very fond. Finally (from 0:25) the first, disquieting notes of “The Trial,” the denouement of this conceptual work by the highly talented Pink Floyd bassist, emerge as if out of nowhere.
The Trial
Roger Waters, Bob Ezrin / 5:20
Musicians
David Gilmour: electric lead guitar, bass
Roger Waters: vocals
Nick Mason: bass drum, cymbals
Bob Ezrin: piano
Unidentified Los Angeles–based Actresses: backing vocals
Michael Kamen: orchestral conducting
New York Symphony: orchestra
Recorded
Britannia Row, Islington, London: September 1978–March 1979
Super Bear Studios, Berre-les-Alpes, Alpes-Maritimes (France): April–July 1979
Studio Miraval, Domaine de Miraval, Le Val, Var (France): April–July 1979
CBS Studios, New York City: August 1979
Cherokee Recording Studios, Los Angeles: September 6–8, 1979
The Village Recorder, Los Angeles: September 21, 1979
Producers Workshop, Hollywood: September 12–November 1, 1979
Technical Team
Producers: Bob Ezrin, David Gilmour, Roger Waters
Co-producer: James Guthrie
Sound Engineers: James Guthrie, Nick Griffiths, Patrice Quef, Brian Christian, Rick Hart, John McClure
Genesis
Like that of any well-constructed storyline, the ending of The Wall has a few surprises in store. Just as we think Pink is on the road to recovery, here he is at the height of his insanity, organizing his own trial. This is a trial that takes place within his own mind, crazed by the drug the physician has injected into him and above all by the frustrations to which he has been subjected since early childhood. In the spirit of Kafka’s novel of the same name, all the characters in the trial are a part of himself: the judge, his mother, and all the facts of the case are drawn from his febrile memory.
This surreal trial opens with a preamble from the prosecuting attorney that itself defies common sense, as the rock star is said to have shown feelings of an almost human nature. The witnesses are then called one by one. First of all Pink’s schoolmaster, who had always known that the boy would come to no good and that had he been allowed to, he could have flayed him into shape. Pink’s wife then addresses him directly, calling him a little shit and asking if he has broken any homes up lately. Next it is Pink’s mother who is called to the witness-box. She pleads with the judge to let her take him home. “She is only being over-protective,” explains Roger Waters to Tommy Vance. “She’s not attacking him in the way that the teacher and his wife do.”126
The verdict is delivered. There’s no need for the jury to retire, announces the judge (who has been transformed into a rear end and is literally talking through his backside). Pink is found guilty. Pink is sentenced to tearing down the wall he has constructed, which for the rock star amounts to exposing himself in his state of extreme distress to the eyes of the whole world! A sentence that is utterly comical, as it will have the effect of enabling the “culpable party” to free himself… It is worth reiterating here that the court and all those who participate in it exist only in Pink’s mind, thus the sentence he imposes upon himself reveals the feelings of guilt that have tormented him since the effects of the drug have faded and reality has started to dawn once again. The song ends with the destruction of the wall.
Production
A key turns in a lock, a door opens, and footsteps resonate on a hard floor: the intro to “The Trial” (whose working title was “Trial by Puppet”) depicts Pink leaving prison and making his way to the courtroom. The accompaniment to this incredible piece of music, like “Bring the Boys Back Home” very much an exception in the Pink Floyd catalog, is provided by the fifty-five musicians of the New York Symphony under the baton of Michael Kamen. “That’s largely Roger and Bob Ezrin collaborating,”9 David Gilmour would explain. In truth it is to a score composed by the brilliant producer of The Wall that Waters sings the words of this key song in his conceptual work. Although Bob Ezrin was credited for his contribution, this was by no means a foregone conclusion: “You can write anything you want,” Waters is supposed to have told him, “just don’t expect any credit or money for it.”9 However, Ezrin, obstinate to the end, caused Waters to relent and succeeded in imposing his own original idea on the songwriter. “I think it was written by Bob with the immediate intention to do that with an orchestra, although we did demos of it with synthesizers and stuff,”9 explains Gilmour. It is certainly true that Ezrin had always envisaged an orchestra for this piece, having figured out how important it was. His musical choices would turn out to center largely on Kurt Weill, the German composer who had succeeded in blending the European operatic tradition with the American musical. It also seems possible that this choice of model was influenced by Weill’s own bitter experience. Faced with the rise of Nazism, the Jewish composer quit his home country in 1933 after the performance of his works had been banned. Moreover, Waters would reveal that the specific musical source was the Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny, an opera with libretto by Bertolt Brecht and music by Kurt Weill that was premiered in 1930 (and which includes the famous “Alabama Song” covered by the Doors in 1967).
“The Trial” is therefore dominated by a big orchestral sound conducted by the extraordinary Michael Kamen. Roger Waters gives a brilliant performance as each of the protagonists in turn. One by one, the various characters take the stand: the prosecutor (with his upper-class accent), the schoolmaster (with his Scottish accent), Pink’s wife (with a southern English accent), his mother (with a northern English accent), and finally the judge (again with an upper-class accent). There are also two refrains sung in a normal voice, supported by Bob Ezrin’s lyrical piano playing and backing vocals by a group of Los Angeles actresses hired by the Canadian producer. Significantly it is in the final verse, in which the sentence is pronounced, that David Gilmour enters on his “Black Strat,” playing a distorted motif (with Big Muff and Electric Mistress) that is doubled for extra power. Gilmour also plays bass guitar, while Nick Mason works his cymbals and supports the rhythm with a very present bass drum. Finally, as soon as the sentence is passed down, an impressive crowd starts to chant, Tear down the wall! Before long we hear the beginnings of a rumbling noise that gradually builds in volume, culminating in the collapse of an enormous wall (at 5:00).
Two teams were needed to create this final sound effect. To start with, Nick Griffiths was given the task of recording the demolition of a building. As Nick Mason has observed, this kind of operation carried out by experts using only small explosive charges is relatively quiet and therefore failed to produce the anticipated effect. So a second team was sent into action. Nigel Taylor, the technical manager at Britannia Row, traveled down to Somerset with a couple of technicians, armed with a rented Nagra and a pair of mics, to record a real explosion in a quarry. As this procedure was performed only once a day, they did not have the opportunity to set their sound levels before the daily explosion. Fortunately the sound was captured perfectly. Ultimately, James Guthrie filled a twenty-four-track tape with all these takes. He slowed them down, doubled them, and supplemented them with other available sources.
Outside The Wall
Roger Waters / 1:46
Musicians
David Gilmour: backing vocals
Roger Waters: vocals
Frank Marocco: concertina
Trevor Veitch: mandolin
Larry Williams: clarinet
Children’s choir (unidentified): backing vocals
Recorded
Britannia Row, Islington, London: September 1978–March 1979
Super Bear Studios, Berre-les-Alpes, Alpes-Maritimes (France): April–July 1979
Studio Miraval, Domaine de Miraval, Le Val, Var (France): April–July 1979
Producers Workshop, Hollywood: September 12–November 1, 1979
Technical Team
Producers: Bob Ezrin, David Gilmour, Roger Waters
Co-producer: James Guthrie
Sound Engineers: James Guthrie, Nick Griffiths, Patrice Quef, Brian Christian, Rick Hart
Genesis
Roger Waters’s conceptual work concludes with “Outside the Wall.” Now that the wall is no more, is Pink’s true personality revealed? Roger Waters leaves this question shrouded in doubt. Is Pink now cured? Or has his mental confusion reached the point of no return? It remains a mystery. The final song on The Wall is all about those who have loved Pink, for want of understanding him, perhaps, who are walking up and down outside the wall waiting for him, even if after all it’s not easy banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall.
In Alan Parker’s movie, “Outside the Wall” has been relegated to the credit sequence, following on from the destruction of the wall. We see women and children clearing away debris (including a Molotov cocktail) from the wall. According to Roger Waters, this closing scene is an illustration of mankind’s natural aversion to violence.
Production
As the wall continues to collapse, Larry Williams plays a solitary, melancholy melody on the clarinet. After twenty seconds or so, Roger Waters starts to sing, or rather recite, the final lyric of The Wall. He is accompanied by a children’s choir (with the participation of David Gilmour singing falsetto!), by the mandolin of Trevor Veitch (at the back of the mix), and by the concertina (an instrument of the accordion family) of Frank Marocco. It is interesting to note that Veitch and Marocco were regular Beach Boys sidemen, Marocco even having taken part in the sessions for Pet Sounds. After three verses, the three musicians continue their accompaniment alone, Waters and the choir having fallen silent. The atmosphere is distinctly forlorn and recalls the Berlin of the war years. Suddenly we hear Waters’s voice saying: Isn’t this where… And then his words and the music are brutally silenced. Thus ends the fourth and last side of the album. To discover what comes next, all we have to do is return to the first song of the album, “In the Flesh?” because the opening song of The Wall begins with the end of “Outside the Wall,” clearly symbolizing that life eternally repeats itself, bringing not redemption, but a path of sorrows that has to be traveled until the end of time.
Pink Floyd All the Songs Page 60
