Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side Of The Moon (1973)

Readers of my generation may recognise the following common social trope from teenage gatherings and house parties. As music plays, ring-pulls are released from cans of lager, and friendly banter fills the room, in a dim-lit corner, a long-haired layabout is skinning up a joint on the nearest album cover, which always seems to be Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon. It perhaps wasn’t always The Dark Side of the Moon, but as a meme it fits pretty well into this snapshot of thematic memory. Mind you, in the era I was attending teenage gatherings, at the start of the eighties, the album was already getting quite old (it had been released in 1973) but it had turned into an enduring and perpetually high-selling album that everyone (the lads anyway) seemed to relate to.

It was the Floyd’s eighth studio album, conceived and developed over years as a concept album exploring varied themes such as conflict, greed, time, death and mental illness, and largely inspired by the band’s arduous lifestyle and the growing mental health problems suffered by former band member Syd Barrett (who left the group in 1968). Primarily developed during live performances, the band added new material during two sessions in 1972 and 1973 at Abbey Road Studios in London.

It’s highly experimental: the group incorporated multitrack recording, tape loops, analogue synthesisers, and snippets from interviews with the band’s road crew and various philosophical quotations. The engineer was Alan Parsons, and he was responsible for much of the sonic feel to the album (not least by recruiting the singer Clare Torry, who appears on The Great Gig in the Sky). It works extraordinarily well, as a whole as much as its individual parts. This actually takes me back to another teenage meme, that of bodies lying around a darkened room, in a pleasant fug, and listening to the album in its entirety.

Here’s the intro to the album put effectively to video by a fan (credit: Marc-André Ranger)…enjoy! Now, where are those Rizlas?

Pink Floyd
The iconic album cover, by Storm Thorgerson

Robert Donat in Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939)

Some months ago here at OGOTS Towers, in a piece on Walt Whitman’s O Captain! My Captain (see here), we looked at that wonderful role portrayed by Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society: the uber-inspirational teacher, John Keating. Well, this week we’re looking at another stalwart of the fictional schoolroom, one Charles Edward Chipping AKA “Mr Chips”.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips is a 1939 romantic drama based on the 1934 novella of the same name by James Hilton. The film is about Mr Chipping (Robert Donat), a much-loved elderly school teacher at Brookfield public school, who looks back at his career and personal life over the decades. We learn about his rise through the teaching ranks, his friendship with German teacher Max Staefel (Paul Heinreid) and his tragically short marriage to Kathy (Greer Garson), who dies in childbirth along with their baby. From thereon in, Chips’ life is devoted exclusively to the school and he develops a rapport with generations of pupils, eventually teaching the sons and grandsons of many of his earlier pupils.

Although he ostensibly retires in 1914, Chips is soon enjoined to return as interim headmaster due to the shortage of teachers because of the Great War. During a bombing attack by a German Zeppelin, Chips insists that the boys keep on translating their Latin, and to the great amusement of his pupils, chooses the story of Julius Caesar’s battles against the Germanic tribes. Now there’s stiff upper lip!

As the war drags on though, every Sunday in chapel Chips reads aloud into the school’s Roll of Honour the names of the many former boys and teachers who have died in the war. It’s a poignant scene (that you can see below). Upon discovering that Max Staefel has died fighting on the German side, he reads out his name, too. “Funny reading his name out with the others, after all, he was an enemy”, says one schoolboy to another afterwards. “One of Chips’ ideas I suppose” his mate says, “he’s got lots of funny ideas like that”.

Chips retires permanently in 1918, but continues living nearby. He is on his deathbed in 1933 when he overhears his colleagues talking about him. He responds, “I thought I heard you say it was a pity – a pity I never had any children. But you’re wrong. I have! Thousands of them, thousands of them.. and all.. boys”.

Robert Donat as Mr Chips