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David Gilmour: "Yes, hello? Hi, Roger. Listen, I just couldn't think of anything, not a riff, not a melody."
Roger Waters: "As usual, you can't expect anything from you, just lengthy solos. I'm also a bit short on ideas. With obscured by clouds we've really messed everything up, you know?"
D. G.: Don't tell me, it's awful!
R. W.: Yeah, but with this, we're risking hitting rock bottom. Help me, please.
D. G.: And Nick? Come on, Nick will get us out of trouble.
R. W.: Yeah, him. He hasn't touched the drums for 3 months. After Obscured, he's become demoralized.
D. G.: Ok, then Rick. He's always so filling for an album, with his keyboard interludes. Then I'll throw in some solos here and there. Some songs with random sounds and effects. And there you go. Come on, we can do it! Come on!
R. W.: I've got an idea. We need to go for a concept album.
D. G.: Meaning?
R. W.: Something that revolves around a single topic. I've got an idea. Madness. There. That way we'll seem more cultured. Come on! We can do it. I'll ask the others and then I'll tell you what comes out!" Two months later...
D. G.: "Hi, so? The record company is breathing down our necks, they want a commercial, sellable, yet pseudo-refined product."
R. W.: "Okay, we can do it. So: intro full of sound effects, so we can immediately raise the runtime. Then on with 'Breathe in the air,' that usual lived-in riff that everyone does, and we'll repeat it around the album when we don't know what to do.
D. G.: Okay, what was it? E minor and A major?
R. W.: Obviously!
D. G.: Solos?
R. W.: Wait a minute! Let's not mess it up like we always do. Remember how boring it was on 'Atom heart mother'? That solo of yours after the choir that had already made us yawn? I've seen people never wake up again. Let's not repeat the usual mistakes. Let's make new ones.
D. G.: Okay, then?
R. W.: Another track of effects.
D. G.: Again? Then it's me who's the pain...
R. W.: Come on. Rick has recorded some cool stuff.
D. G.: Let's hope.
R. W.: It's called On the run. Then the usual song about time, relativity, and all that jazz. Look, you're singing, okay?
D. G.: Let me have the lyrics.
R. W.: I want you all mushy with the voice.
D. G.: As usual. Solo?
R. W.: No.
D. G.: Come on. Either you give me the solo, or I won't play for the whole song.
R. W.: You know, I've never heard you do a riff...
D. G.: Okay, okay, I promise I'll do something on this one, I don't know, some funky phrasing. Rather, just my voice? You know alone it gets boring.
R. W.: Ok, don't worry, I've got some backups prepared all over the album. And then we repeat 'Breathe,' since it's a concept and we can repeat the pieces whenever we want.
D. G.: You're a genius.
R. W.: I know. Then there's the masterpiece. A piano piece that Rick has come up with yet again. We'll call it 'The Great Gig in the Sky.' With a soul voice solo!!!!
D. G.: Yeah, and who's doing that? Not me for sure, neither you because your voice is more annoying than a mosquito's buzz.
R. W.: I've called an unknown who's better than all of us put together at singing. Then we'll get rid of her with some change.
D. G.: Okay, but all these slow and thick songs...
R. W.: Actually, there's a break. A blues with a riff in 7/4. The one I taught you two weeks ago.
D. G.: Come on. These riffs... Okay, but it felt all the same. Solo?
R. W.: Solo!! This time even sax!
D. G.: Sax? But wait, couldn't you have Richard do something? He never does any solos...
R. W.: Yeah, but do you remember that time on Saint Tropez? Oh my God, he can't even play two simple notes if you tell him to improvise. He's only good in the background.
D. G.: Ok. Let's go with the sax...
R. W.: Then Us and them. A hauntingly slow one. We'll stretch it for 6 or 7 minutes.
D. G.: How? There are only two damn arpeggios!
R. W.: Just stretch it, between effects, dialogues, soulful chorus, and then sax solo.
D. G.: Again.
R. W.: The sax pulls it off! Everyone falls for it.
D. G.: No guitar?
R. W.: Do arpeggios for once.
D. G.: Alright...
R. W.: Then again the 'Breathe' theme.
D. G.: Enough!!
R. W.: It's a concept. You can do whatever the hell you want. Anyway, it's camouflaged with keyboard effects and the usual delay cranked up with reverb.
D. G.: Solo?
R. W.: Okay, fine.
D. G.: Hooray. And listen, that only arpeggio that came to my mind?
R. W.: Placed on the penultimate track, 'Brain Damage.' Even here we stretch it out, otherwise, we don't even reach 40 minutes.
D. G.: Okay, that's enough, isn't it?
R. W.: Ah no. In a concept, there has to be the big finale, complete with revealing lyrics, gospel choirs, organ blasting, and then we put the sound we started with, so it seems all intentional and meaningful. Okay?
D. G.: Bravo, we did it again this time.
R. W.: Of course. Did you have doubts?
D. G.: Well, a few.
R. W.: Okay, see you tomorrow at the studio.
D. G.: Bye.
R. W.: Bye Bye.
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