Reason #340 Why The ’80’s Din’t Suck: The FInal Cut
The Final Cut was the only Pink Floyd album I bought on the first day of release. In 1979 when the Wall came out I was barely 11, and my record collection were mostly cast-offs from generous cousins and, most likely, a Neil Diamond album pilfered from my folks scant and, quite frankly, awful collection (Gilbert and Sullivan, Statler Brothers –The Holy Bible–, CW McCall’s Convoy, Stars On 45, Larry Welk, that kind of stuff). So when The Final Cut album came out in 1983 I was around 15 and had lots of money ($3.75/hr, WHOOP WHOOP!) from my summer jobs working on local farms (my favorite job of all time, actually), and I devoured it; I still know every lyric, lick and nuance of this thing, and still cannot listen to any one song out of context. It just doesn’t sound right, to me. OK, maybe the out of place rocker Not Now John, but that’s about it.
This is most definitely a headphone album, but don’t use it as background music before you go to sleep! It has many soft moments that are interrupted by screaming, sonic attacks which will jolt you out of your REM sleep faster than you can say “Pink Floyd ain’t Pink Floyd without Roger Waters!”.
To amuse myself one rainy, lonely Sunday a few years ago, I created a CD that intertwined the choice cuts from TFC and from The Wall, and it worked beautifully. The narrative remained intact, the songs from TFC acting as flashbacks/nightmares for rock star Pink. Real nerdy stuff; I still have it somewhere.
Anyway, this is a horribly under rated album, and I think it was a wonderful way for the ‘Floyd to bow out.