Deep into The Wall

Bret Urick is a veteran Floydian from Albany, Georgia. Below is my interview with him on Roger Waters' magnum opus "The Wall". For more on The Wall, visit Bret's website

The Wall is timeless. It has come to be the mouthpiece of several generations. What are some of the things that make it so relevant today even after two decades of its existence?

"The Wall" is timeless simply because it tells a timeless story: Man's journey to find himself. Even if the specifics are different, the general story of the fictional Pink is one that we can all relate to in that we all at times have felt alienated from our loved ones, from friends, from authority figures and society as a whole. Oftentimes, as with Pink, it feels as though life conspires against us, and as a result we build up these massive walls, these psychological defense mechanisms to protect ourselves from being emotionally vulnerable. While these defenses help shield us from the pain, Pink Floyd has gone to great lengths to show the negative aspects of such self-isolation, namely a breakdown in personal stability due in large part to a lack of communication and connectivity to the world around us. It's for this reason alone that we may feel the concept of the wall can even be applied to societies as a whole, and how wars might very well result from such social isolation, even those being waged today. It seems Roger Waters himself felt that the evils of Nazi Germany were created by this same self-righteous detachment from humanity, this hiding behind a wall of xenophobia. War, hatred, and all the ills of this modern world seem to be the product of so many personal walls clashing with each other, refusing to allow the other in. t's a universal message that has been reiterated time and again throughout history: History is bound to repeat itself, personally and socially, unless we learn from our mistakes as individuals and as a collective society.
Put simply, "the Wall" is still relevant because it is about us, all of us, as individuals and a society. It is about our capacity for evil jut as much as our capacity for good. It is, in a way, the story of humankind. Stories don't get much more universal than that!

How unique would you consider The Wall to be in terms of a concept album (both before and since its release)?

By the time "the Wall" came out in 1979, the concept album wasn't an entirely new rock and roll form. Arguably, the Beatles had taken a shot at it with "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", and the Who had already released two concept alums of their own, "Quadrophenia" and "Tommy." To me, though, "the Wall" marks a slight shift from these previous rock operas in that its subject matter is arguably more contemplative and grim, more universal and epic. I really can't think of any other album that manages to tackle many of humanity's most persistent philosophical questions quite as successfully as Pink Floyd's "the Wall". (What is the self? How much of a role does the past play in creating the present? Are we products of society or nature? How closely is reality tied up in our perception of things? What is the nature of war? Of good and evil? Where lies the dividing line between rebellion and conformity? etc.)
So while it is not entirely unique unto itself, "the Wall" manages to put a very grown up, philosophical spin on the concept album.

You might want to shed some light on a few insights that you might have gained into the persona of Roger Waters during the course of your analysis.

What struck me most while writing my analysis was his absolute love of all things cyclical. Evidence of this can be seen even in the previous works, the circular nature of albums like "Dark Side of the Moon" (which begins and ends with human heartbeat, suggesting the continuous flow of life and death), "Wish You Were Here" and "Animals" (both of which begin and end with different versions of the same song).

"The Wall" is no different, beginning and ending with the same music playing faintly in the background, along with the line "Isn't this where..." ending the album, and the rest of the line "...we came in?" beginning the album. The idea is that "the Wall" as an album and a philosophical idea repeats itself continuously, that when one person's wall comes down, another is building his or her own from the wreckage.

I get the impression that, for Waters, the cycle is a double-edged sword of sorts. On the positive side, life will always go on. But on the negative side, man's capacity for committing evil will also persist...unless one can break the cycle, so to speak, by learning from history.

One other interesting trait about Waters is that, although many view "the Wall" as a very serious, almost pessimistic work of art, I think Waters himself is very much an eternal optimist. Despite all the maliciousness he sees around him, all the walls being built, I think Waters ultimately finds sparks of hope in mankind. The fact that Pink (the protagonist) learns from his mistakes, realizes that he is the author of his destiny (not just the victim of chance) and tears down his wall is incredibly promising. Also, that Waters chose to end the album with the song "Outside the Wall" also belies his more optimistic leanings; the message is that for every wall of isolation that is built up, there are just as many "bleeding hearts and artists" willing to make a stand and help tear down these oppressive walls.

The album has certainly come alive in its visual form through the movie, but would you point out any contrasting features that separate the movie from the album?

Considering that Roger Waters and film director Alan Parker often butted heads during the making of "the Wall" movie, I think the main contrasts between movie and album lie in this contrast of visions. That said, with the movie being such a cult classic, it's hard to imagine it as anything but what it currently is. Many feel that the movie isn't nearly as epic as the album; I definitely think that's a valid point. But at the same time, I think Parker's skills in film making helped give the story more structure and visual cohesiveness...something that was definitely needed in order to tame the more sporadic nature of the album.

Would you like to describe the role that Scarfe's animations -- hammers, dove, eagle, flowers -- play in shaping the idea of the wall?

As much as I admire Alan Parker's work, I think Gerald Scarfe's animations absolutely make the movie. Sequences like "Goodbye Blue Sky" and "What Shall We Do Now?" wouldn't have had nearly the same kind of visceral effect had they been regular film pieces. The brilliance behind Scarfe's animation lies in his ability to boil down some rather complex ideas and themes into a single animated "character." It's simply amazing how an image as simple as crossed hammers can invoke such a wide range of ideas and emotions in the viewer: force, violence, oppression, mob rule, brutal fascism, the Nazi party. The same goes for the flowers. It's hard to imagine getting anything out of a picture of two flowers, yet Scarfe somehow manages to encapsulate an entire history of love and abuse and violent sexuality within a sequence that is barely 30 seconds long. In this way, Scarfe's animation almost acts as another instrument in "the Wall", filling in some rather important and relevant information that the lyrics only hint at. Likening it to a person, "the Wall"'s live-action shots are like the story's exterior - the skin, the eyes, the hair, the physical qualities of the action - while Scarfe's animation is like the mental landscape, revealing an often sordid look into what's making this character tick.

Comment on Another brick in the wall.

"Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2" is pure rock and roll. It's also pure Pink Floyd. Throughout much of his artistic life, John Lennon was obsessed with advertising slogans. He loved the way that simple words could convey grand ideas. This idea was the impetus behind some of his most well known sons ("Give Peace a Chance," "Imagine"). I think the same idea lies behind "Another Brick." When you step back and look at it, it's a rather simple melody, a simple beat, and a rather simple and repetitive lyric. It's easily recognized and easily sung. At the same time, the simple lyrics hint at much broader themes, especially that of rebellion. And what could be more rock and roll than a song about rebellion, about standing up to the status quo!

What makes the song even more interesting is that, once you get past the exterior, you'll find an even more complex interior. The line "We don't need no education" is so anthemic that it practically lends itself to mass singing...which is exactly Roger Waters's ironic point. At what point does this mass singing, this mob rebellion, begin to resemble the very same mob rule that the singers are rebelling against? (Again, an example of Waters's circular logic.)

Going into my analysis, I might have believed that "the Wall" was a terrific rock album, but coming out I know it to be nothing short of a great work of art.

Autorickshaw - Jazz fusion

Ever heard someone scatting Sanskrit syllables while remaining true to both traditions — Carnatic and Jazz? Suba Sankaran, in her Canadian world-music ensemble, Autorickshaw, does it with a child's sense of wonder and virtuosity, in effect highlighting the similarities between the two forms.

She keeps the listener hooked, not merely with the panache with which she balances her hybrid vocals but also with her strong south Indian looks and a contagious smile.

Suba's musical talents and interests span a dazzling range: European Renaissance, jazz, Bollywood and Indian classical to vocals, piano and percussion. Daughter of the famed mridanga maestro Trichy Sankaran, Suba's family could safely be called the first family of Indian Classical music in Canada. "I was born with a perfect pitch," says Suba, who was able to identify and reproduce tunes from the age of two.

Starting young

"My dad used to come up with these complicated compositions on the mridangam and the kanjira. He'd then ask me to `Name that Nadai'," she says with a laugh.

Her first experience on stage was in the U.S. when she was only four. "It was for a Navarathri festival at the Wesleyan University when I was one of the four children selected for a solo-performance on stage, and I sang the hymn Santhanam Pahiman."

Suba carved her own path at an early age. Her musical identity is derived from her Indian roots (her mother is Telugu and father Tamil) as well as the diversity of Canadian culture.

Starting at age six, she studied piano at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto for over 15 years. Her vocal virtuosity comes from singing with madrigal choirs; she is part of Voyces Past, a Renaissance music group. She shared the stage with her father from the age of 16 and they formed an Indo-jazz fusion ensemble called Trichy's Trio.

But he wasn't the only one who led her to Indian classical. "Throughout the year, visiting artistes from India stayed at our place during festivals and performances. I had the privilege of studying under many of them."

Among these artistes are celebrated musicians like T. Vishwanathan, K. Subramaniam and N. Ramani. She studied jazz at York University and completed her M.A. in ethnomusicology in 2002. As if that weren't enough she sings 80s pop hits in a-cappella (voice without instrumental accompaniment) with Retrocity, and Bollywood numbers with the Hannaford Street Silver band. Oh, and she loves busking (those informal street performances). "It's such a fun thing to do! We even used to sing Christmas carols. " A few years ago, though, she busked for a purpose. "It helped me make money to release my first album (with Autorickshaw)."

"Autorickshaw is a dream come true for me and Ed Hanley," says Suba, whose husband Dylan Bell is the touring India with the band. "It is our musical vehicle."

Ed, who plays the tabla, had approached Suba with the idea of forming a world-music ensemble. "It took us about 30 seconds to realise that it was like looking in a mirror."

This ability to analogise various traditions from a classical perspective chiefly came from a solid four-year training in Carnatic vocals by Sankari Krishnan in Chennai.

"I was able to paint more of a picture of where the music came from rather than just read notes on a page."

She is strongly influenced by R.D. Burman and Asha Bhosle apart from fusion artists like Trilok Gurtu, U. Shrinivas and Shakti.

The song "Ganamurthy," from Autorickshaw's second album Four Higher (yes, a take on For Hire) was inspired by U. Shrinivas's rendition of the paean for Lord Krishna.

Suba also composes music for radio and has worked with Deepa Mehta on a radio play called Funny Boy. She directs choirs, performs jingles, sings for films, and even doubles as a part-time faculty at York University.

Suba Sankaran and me at KCP

Michael Schiefel

Jazz vocal artiste Michael Schiefel demonstrates the dynamism of repetition in his music with his loop machine

Michael Schiefel: ‘I am like a parrot, but a little more creative’

“Repetition is an integral part of music,” says German jazz singer Michael Schiefel of the most basic element rampant in his music – loops. Looping has, in recent times, evolved into a musical form in its own right wh at with the works of minimalist composers like Terry Riley, Steve Reich and Brian Eno, and Robert Fripp of King Crimson and Guitar Craft fame.

Schiefel, however, demonstrates the dynamism of the music with his loop machine in a manner hitherto unseen. His avant-garde use of mimed and played-back beats, sounds and melodies, all fashioned by his vocals, form a brilliant mélange of pop/jazz moods and rhythms.

“It was the piano that drew me into jazz,” says Schiefel recounting his foray into jazz in his late teens. But having learnt the jazz piano only as an accompaniment instrument, there was a dire need to express himself through his voice. “I was always singing and I found that improvising on the piano was tougher than improvising with my voice.”

Soon he began developing a highly androgynous voice from soprano through baritone and even bass. “It wasn’t hard for me to sing and imitate artists like Ella Fitzgerald, Bobby McFerrin, Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington.”

Having moved to Berlin in the early 90s from his hometown of Weimar, Schiefel was suddenly exposed to the burgeoning post-Wall cultural scene in the city. But the 21-year-old soaked in the atmosphere and soon began his musical career. “There was a mixture of East and West jazz scenes and a new scene was emerging with influences from as far as America and Eastern Europe. The time and space felt very creative.” With places to learn and play jazz sprouting up rapidly, Schiefel started gigging at small clubs around Berlin with his band JazzIndeed. As the cultural awakening slowly changed from an underground subculture to an established tradition, Schiefel joined Berlin’s University of the Arts and worked under the tutelage of noted composer David Friedman.

It was here in the conservatory that he chanced upon a prototype loop machine. “The idea of playing with this machine emerged as I started toying and having fun with it,” says Schiefel. With a dynamic vocal range, he was soon experimenting with linear melodies and repeated musical phrases using them as a background for extended solos like in a small jazz band and developing a three-dimensional vocal architecture. And another chance encounter at the annual Loop Festival in Berlin with the machine’s (called Echoplex when released) inventor Matthias Grob set the ball rolling for Schiefel.

“Matthias was impressed by the experimental jazz work that I was doing on his instrument and agreed to help me make it more versatile and portable.” Soon Schiefel launched into a solo career and began touring extensively with his loop machine. His three solo albums among other collaborations include “Invisible Loop” (1998), “I Don’t Belong” (2000) and “Don’t Touch My Animals” (2006). “The instrument is no more just an effect device that it was intended to be,” he asserts.

Schiefel claims that the inspirations and influences in his music are as random as they can be. “I am like a parrot, but a little more creative,” he quips. “I listen to stuff all around, play it in my head and try to reproduce it. It is much less systematic than what it seems.” Of course, his stylistic flexibility and the dynamic nature of his vocals are indelible on the listener’s mind.

In addition to his solo performances, Schiefel is also noted for his numerous collaborations: with the classical-inspired big band Thaerichen’s Tentett, modern jazz with David Friedman, Balkan music with the German-Bulgarian quintet Batoru, and also as a guest artist for the Goethe Institute.

It was as part of his Asia tour organized by the Institute when Schiefel recently performed in the city. So how do audiences across the world take to his kind of music? “It is a small stream within jazz music,” he says. “Audiences are actually not that different from each other when it comes to experiencing new things. Some simply leave, but most are willing to experiment.” Schiefel claims that people often dub him as an alien. “I’m new and weird every new place I go to,” he smiles.

Talvin Singh

BRAND NEW FUSION Talvin Singh: `When you live outside the country, somehow you feel more passionate about the country's culture and do not take things for granted'

He is a DJ spinning electronic dance music records at nightclubs in London on the one hand and a Hindustani traditionalist playing the tabla on the other. He is the pioneer of a new brand of fusion that is famously known as Asian Underground — an innovative-derivative outcome of his two primary interests.

Talvin Singh believes that his music has a universal appeal. "The ingredients of my music may be territorial but the music itself isn't," he says. Talvin's magnum opus Anokha - Soundz of the Asian Underground (1997) is still seen as a landmark release. His `tabla-tronics' that drew exciting parallels between `drum-n-bass' and Indian percussion, was not just a staple at desi clubs in the UK and US, but also a wild craze in the South Pacific regions, especially Australia and New Zealand. His solo works Ok (1998) and Ha(2001) further illustrated his versatility.

"When you live outside the country, somehow you feel more passionate about the country's culture and do not take things for granted," says Talvin who was born and brought up in Leytonstone, East London, but had a strong and traditional Indian lineage. In fact his passion for Indian music was so profound that even after having been exposed to the vibrant London music scene in the 70s and early 80s, Talvin, at the age of 15, took his exams early so he could leave school for India to learn the tabla under Pandit Laxman Singh.

But on returning to the UK there was another problem. "There have been times in my life when I just wanted to play Indian classical music but that's where my identity crisis kicked in," says Talvin. "I didn't feel it was really me."

It was also a time when artists were experimenting with new sounds.

"London, in the late 80s, was celebrating its diversity and was witness to an integration of musical cultures. There was an open air for music and art all through. So, I of course had to be a part of it." It was thus that Talvin ventured into fusion.

Talvin's collaborations with artists like jazz composer and `cosmic philosopher' Sun Ra, Bjork and electronic music duo The Future Sound of London among others ensured that his brand of music was no more "underground" as it quickly broke through to the mainstream.

Various artists soon began using Asian instrumentation to liven up their music. But it was Talvin's efforts at the now-legendary Anokha club night, East London's Blue Note 1996-97 that took his music to the world and ensured his global recognition. His solo album Ok also went on to win the Mercury Music Prize in 1999.

In the city as part of the Submerge series of events (see box), Talvin's gig last week at Fuga showcased cutting-edge trends in electronica hitherto unseen on the Indian club circuit. "The idea of dance music in India is very different from elsewhere," he complains. "It's got to do more with drinking and bar culture than with music." Talvin also believes that the existence of an underground `posse culture' is essential for the growth of art forms. "Back in the UK, this is what helped me derive my own identity, but here, I simply do not see any solid platform for alternative forms," he says even while acknowledging the efforts of Submerge in breaking this rut.

Talvin also believes there is a similar problem haunting Indian Classical music. Having been closely associated with the Punjab gharana and other Hindustani traditions for many years now, he says that there is definitely more talent within than what is seen outside.

"To me the Classical structure seems a bit contrived. It is taking the character of a trade in recent times," he says. "I'd like to hear new musicians who don't necessarily come from privileged backgrounds."

As for his progressive fusion music that many still label as "ambient", Talvin is certain it is more subjective than anything and does not like his music to be pigeonholed.

"People who listen to Himesh Reshammiya might call my music ambient, but the ones who listen to Brian Eno might not think so," he smiles. "But on a more serious note, I like to think of my music simply as mood evoking. There is a space and colour to my music that is different for each listener."

So what does he have in store for his fans? "I am scoring music for Deepa Mehta's film "Republic of Love", working on a tabla solo album that is slated to release this October and music for a few short films." This is apart from being on the road for over seven months a year! And where does he believe electronica is headed today? "To be more in commune with nature — more natural sounds, minimal in style and tending towards acoustic and folk."