My parents have an amusing story about me when I was still in my mother’s womb: I behaved well while my dad would blast rock music, but the moment it was Pink Floyd, I would start kicking to the beat of the songs. My mom noticed this and told my dad — they then experimented and played different bands to see how I’d react, but I was docile. They put on Pink Floyd, and again I kicked to the beat.
One of my distinct childhood memories is in our old apartment; I was blasting my dad’s Pink Floyd collection and sang along, air-guitaring to the solos. I was fully submerged in the music. There could be company over, but I was so lost in the music that I didn’t care.
At eight-years-old I developed a tradition of listening to Pink Floyd’s Darkside of the Moon alone in my room on my birthday. At midnight today the tradition continued; I spent time in solitude in my room listening to the album.
There’s a nostalgia, a child-like happiness I experience each year. To this day no other band has touched my soul like Pink Floyd. The experience is always therapeutic and euphoric to me. Until next year again.
That is awesome. I plan to hear at least a little bit of prog tonight, and if the rest of the party has to sit through the entirety of Animals, that’s ok with me.
Thats cool man, Happy Bday sir!
We’ll have to play “Animals” next time. I have all of Pink Floyd’s CDs.
And thanks, guys!