Pink Floyd: The Final Cut

The Final Cut

Best song: The Fletcher Memorial Home

Worst song: Southampton Dock

Overall grade: 5

After Roger Waters left Pink Floyd in the early 80s, he took a bit of time off and then released a solo album. Of course, before Roger Waters left Pink Floyd he also took a bit of time off and then released a solo album. It’s really quite a shock the first time you pick up a copy of ‘The Final Cut’, released as a Pink Floyd record, and see the writing on the back: “By Roger Waters, performed by Pink Floyd.”

With Richard Wright firmly out of the band and David Gilmour and Nick Mason out of songwriting ideas, Roger took it upon himself to further his obsession with anti-war propaganda and dedicate an entire album to it. Much of it is poetry set to sparse backing music. Instrumental breaks are a rare commodity, positive messages are nonexistent, and it’s light years away from the fun sound collage at the end of ‘Bike’. But like it or not, for all official purposes, this is as much Pink Floyd as that – and if it seems something of an outlier in its style, it’s more than good enough to deserve the name in my opinion.

The quietest murmur opens ‘The Post War Dream’: ‘Tell me truly, tell me why/was Jesus crucified/was it for this that Daddy died?’ The song sounds like one of the quietest moments off The Wall – especially that ‘hint of accusation’ line, which contains exactly the same vocal inflection he used a few times on that album. The lyrics both set the tone and provide a good opening; Roger commenting on how society has lost the hope for the future it had after the war. This is particularly relevant coming, as it was, mere months after another war, the Falklands War, ended.

‘Your Possible Pasts’ has a chorus, of sorts. It’s a lonely and desperate song, and the chorus is still both of these things, but it’s loud and echoey as well. This contrasting effect is repeated on a few songs and really suits the album, as Roger sadly contemplates his subject matter and then suddenly snaps, his sadness turning to rage. But tellingly, the solo by Dave really adds something – its despondent quality makes us feel like there’s no hope left – showing that Roger works better with someone to play off of him.

‘One Of The Few’ has an incredibly delicate guitar part behind it, which is pretty, but I think it would work even better on piano. Wright’s input is definitely missed in these minimal songs. One of the most fully realised songs is ‘The Gunner’s Dream’. With the interesting piano chords and the great saxophone part, the lyrics don’t dominate quite as much here, and overall this is the song that sounds most like 70s Pink Floyd. And the following ‘Paranoid Eyes’ almost has a melody in its pretty, reminiscing middle section, bringing side one to a heart-wrenching close.

The single greatest moment on the album is undoubtedly ‘The Fletcher Memorial Home’, which proves my vaguely controversial opinion that a song doesn’t have a melody to have hooks – this one gets stuck in my head all the time. Roger’s so passionate on the song. They say you should write about what you believe in, and that’s definitely the case here.

A few of the shorter tracks are nothing more than linking pieces. They fit the concept and when listening to the album as a whole, they work, but they don’t add anything in particular. ‘Southampton Dock’ is probably the best example of this, but ‘The Hero’s Return’ also qualifies.

On the title track, as on quite a few other songs, I’m mostly waiting, anticipating those moments when Roger just loses control and suddenly goes really intense. To me, those moments of catharsis are what make the album really worthwhile. I guess that with Roger completely in charge of songwriting, he can write what best suits his voice, keeping things technically simple but emotionally complex.

I’ve read quite a few reviews of this album, although not for a while, and I can’t remember one that doesn’t take offense at ‘Not Now John’. One of the main complaints is its being completely anomalous with the rest of the album. It’s true, there are guitars pretty constantly throughout and you can hear it without turning the volume up full, but essentially the mood is the same. The female vocals in the background are distorted and creepy and Gilmour’s guitar soloing seems to move round in the mix, creating a sense of confusion, and as for the lyrics, they’re every bit as desperate as everything else on the record. I don’t see it as a failed attempt at a “rocker”, I see it as a successful attempt at a very twisted version of a rocker.

I do think this album works incredibly well as a unit; more so than as individual songs. It’s impossible to tell which songs are Wall outtakes and which are new, everything blends so well together. And while it seems like a daunting prospect, being lectured on the evils of war for forty-three minutes, if anyone can do it while keeping you emotionally involved and without sounding preachy; it’s Roger Waters. And apart from anything else, it’s a great lesson in how to make exactly the music you want without compromising yourself for anyone.