Pink Floyd
Animals -|| 2018 Remix ||-

THE REVIEW

The "classics" of rock from that unrepeatable and now distant season, already half a century ago, are being subjected to cyclical re-releases, each more or less justified. Sometimes they come as fully equipped and hugely expensive box sets, or as unearthed, previously unheard concerts—or maybe well-known shows that are now remastered with far more advanced technology. But more often, what happens is that they revisit those now outdated early digital transfers from the eighties, when the technology was still in its infancy.

This falls into the latter category, and perhaps "Animals" really did need an audiophile "refresh," since this work—leaving aside its long list of lyrical, musical, and even graphic merits—marked, back in 1977, a clear step back in terms of sonic quality and clarity for the Pink Floyd standard.

Which brings us to this 2018-branded version of one of the illustrious quartet’s masterpieces, revised and corrected by the keen ears of their trusted engineer, James Guthrie. In reality, the album comes out four years later because, just for a change, Waters and Gilmour spent that time fighting, once again with lawyerly threats, this time over the... liner notes: Waters wanted them short and technical, while Gilmour had a nice making of story ready, written by a friend of his.

Waters wins, and so the booklet is simply full of truly stunning photos from the aforementioned making of, and especially of the famous inflatable pig—about the size of an apartment—first hoisted up between two of the dramatic smokestack/columns of the decommissioned power station, then set loose into the air to alarm pilots and helicopter flyers alike. The cover photomontage is, in any case, to die for.

I'm no audiophile, so my take on the question "Is it really worth it?" is colored by inadequacy. I can suggest that, after listening carefully through a Denon player, Nad amp, and a pair of JBL speakers, or with closed-back AKG headphones, a generally greater breadth emerges, a clarity that shines up everything, especially Mason's drums, the keyboards of the late Wright, and even the barks, grunts, and bleats. In other words, the wandering reverberations—the "glue" that underpinned the original album—are gone, and everything sounds drier, more "up front," you might say... less Floydian, if you really think about it.

As for the music and the themes... there’s no point reiterating points and superlatives already explored by thousands of reviewers worldwide. Of course, nowadays humanity is more than ever divided into three species, just as Waters tells us here and—as Orwell did before him—an insubstantial minority of pigs thrives undisturbed, looking after their own interests while pretending to care about everyone and everything. They’re supported by a substantial number of dogs at their service, aiming to become pigs themselves or simply finding fulfillment by biting, dominating, elbowing, applying the law of the jungle. And then there are the sheep, the overwhelming majority, who, despite their numbers, submit, settle for less, shut themselves off with fatalism, laziness, lack of courage, ignorance, naivety, masochism, idolatry, and envy for the dogs.

But really, the world’s always worked this way... A thousand years ago, if you were a peasant, once in a while the feudal lord would turn up with his goons, take away your sheep, rabbits, and crops, screw and impregnate your lovely daughter, then go back to his castle happy, his balls nicely emptied, ready for his servants to cook up a feast with your stuff. And you’d keep quiet, just happy that the Boss was “protecting” you.

I’ll stop now otherwise I’ll wind up writing, line by line, just how stifling and cowardly the history books at my school were: nothing but dates, battles, congresses, coronations, conquests, defeats, kings and queens, emperors and prime ministers. And the Civil War was fought to free the slaves. And Napoleon was a great man. And Nero with his lyre. And Mussolini cutting deals with the Pope in ‘29, and we’re still footing the bill, and Benigni’s movie set in a concentration camp in Germany liberated by the Americans, not the Russians because that would've looked bad at the Oscars: che paraculo di cane italiano anche lui.

Enough. Sorry. Angry sheep, apathetic but not stupid.