I’m sitting in the passenger's seat of a car for the first time in a while. My dad is driving, I’m on the aux and Pink Floyd’s “Time” has come up in my shuffle.
“You know Dad, I don’t remember ever learning the lyrics to this song,” I said. “I just know them all.” It was something I had recently become privy to in my life — the way certain songs and albums seemed just as much a part of me as my thoughts are.
“That’s because you’ve been listening to this stuff since you were in the womb,” he replied. “You wouldn't be my kid if you didn’t know Pink Floyd.”
This interaction really stuck with me. Music has been so fundamental to every aspect of my life that I can’t name a single point in time where I wasn’t obsessively listening to something. When asked about the albums that have defined specific eras of my life, Pink Floyd’s discography has had a significant presence since I was born. The memories that I have associated with them are not as era-specific as the albums that I began listening to since becoming conscious.
These albums are ones that I can transport myself back in time with — just not to one specific memory. Rather, I feel like they act almost as a landmark for each era as they occurred. I could not tell you the first time I heard Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon,” but I can tell you how it felt to listen to it from beginning to end in seventh grade, 12th grade, my first year of college and yesterday when I gave it a relisten just to write this piece.
“Dark Side of the Moon” is, without a doubt, one of the most iconic and easily recognizable rock albums in the history of the genre. From its revolutionary guitar solos to the album cover, which has been a staple of the graphic-tee community since the ’70s, it’s fair to say that a large number of people have engaged with this work in some way or another. It was groundbreaking in its song-making techniques — using synthesizer and electronic technology that no one had ever used before, and at a level many still strive to achieve to this day.
Beyond its critical and popular acclaim, however, this album is pure nostalgia for me. It’s comfortable and familiar: something that I can listen to passively from the top all the way through while still being able to hum along to every note. My dad has played it since I was a child and discovered them when he was a young teen in Syria. To this day, it’s one of the strongest passions we both share.
Building upon that, “Dark Side of the Moon” is a piece of art that I don’t think I will ever be able to fully grasp the meaning of. Every time I consciously tune in to the lyrics, listening to what they are trying to discuss at a deeper level, I find myself at a loss for how a group of people were able to capture such universally complex ideas. This album has had an equal hand in teaching me about the trials and tribulations of life as my mentors have, and it continues to gain new meaning as I get older.
“Breathe (In the Air)” has served as one of my most efficient coping mechanisms for anxiety. “The Great Gig in the Sky” has never failed to stop me in my tracks, no matter the place, just to close my eyes and listen. “Eclipse” is partly to blame for my moon obsession.
Time, relationships, money, family and death are all concepts I was first introduced to when I listened to this album as a baby. My favorite songs have fluctuated; their meanings shifting alongside the experiences I’ve accumulated through time. There are lyrics and themes that I simply would not be able to understand without growing up alongside this incredibly all-encompassing album, which has served as an ontological guide through life itself.
So, although I have had to fend off my fair share of rock history quizzers who think I don’t know who David Gilmour is, this album and band will never fail to be an integral part of who I am as a person today. It reminds me that “every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time …”
