![]() And off you went with your double-album or long-play cassette. As if, in some irony according to one the album’s themes, an authority figure of dubious credentials was about to stand over you and force you to scrawl the words ‘Pink’ and ‘Floyd’ and ‘The’ and ‘Wall’ on the bag. In Hawke’s Bay it was practically issued out by the city council to teenagers, along with army-surplus school-bags and a felt pen. ![]() At least not until The Wall was released. It’s borderline nonsensical, spreading strange tones of racism, homophobia and smash-the-state politics under some strange guise of the war-affected when actually no one ever simply told Roger Waters to shut the fuck up. It’s a smart conceptual album – if you’re a dummy. It’s the worst kind of indulgent, fawning, horrid yawn-fest plodding prog-rock as (reluctant) stadium fare.
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