Animals is like a Pink Floyd masterpiece from a parallel universe. In this universe, we all celebrate Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and The Wall. But everyone except hardcore Pink Floyd fans seem to acknowledge Animals. When I first listened to it, I knew their three most popular albums and so Animals both feels like and unlike their other work. It’s like a shadow Pink Floyd that exists outside of our rock universe, like looking at a negative. Upon repeated listens, it became one of my favorite Pink Floyd albums. While Roger Waters spent a lot of time on the lyrical concepts, they don’t really stand out much in any way. Animals is driven by the music, and the music is amazing. I think that’s why the album is mostly appreciated by hardcore Pink Floyd fans. The songs are too long for the radio, there are no relatable lyrical concepts (like “money” or “welcome to the machine”), and there are no memorable hooks. But for fans of peak era Pink Floyd who just want to geek out over the playing, the production, and the sound, it’s a fantastic listen. Animals (and I mean this in a good way) is a great album to play while falling asleep. Every time “Dogs” starts up, I just want to close my eyes and get carried along for a while. Unlike Pink Floyd’s pre-Dark Side of the Moon material, Animals is meandering and jammy without becoming boring or losing my interest. In a rare moment, I agree with Pitchfork that this is a 10/10 album. The Pitchfork author, too, had an extremely subjective experience with the album and I think that’s ultimately the best way to appreciate Animals. It’s clearly not a masterpiece like Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and The Wall. But it’s more like why despite having favorite memories of my life shared with others (climbing Mt. Marcy in 1997, going to my friend Todd’s wedding in 2002, performing my first standup comedy routine in 2011) I might also have an equally favorite memory that’s precious because it’s subjective, out of sight, and nebulous (like crashing on a friend’s couch after coming home from grad school or driving back from Phoenix to Tucson one late night while listening to a classic rock station). That’s how Animals feels - like a peak moment that takes place out of people’s sight, during the night, and in my own head. It’s dreamy, mysterious, and shadowy, like it doesn’t really exist.
Animals is framed by the acoustic “Pigs on the Wing.” I sense it’s a dry run for The Wall and you can sense that album on the horizon. “Dogs” is one of my favorite Pink Floyd songs. It has a mystery to it that gives me goosebumps. I can’t quite call it nostalgia, but it reminds me of listening to it in some out of body experience in 1977 as if I was 17 in that year rather than 1994. The song evokes some kind of classic rock utopia where Pink Floyd created a masterpiece in some parallel universe that no one but me can access. The song just keeps getting better and better and better as it proceeds. When it slows down and become laid-back, “Dogs” becomes ultimate Pink Floyd. Chill, stoic, majestic, and stoned. And then five minutes in, the dogs bark in the background and we only hear Gilmour’s acoustic guitar. I want to sit with this moment forever. It’s just perfect. I think back to so many chill moments with friends or by myself, crashing on couches, late night conversations, and just the silence that lingers in a friend’s house where the environment is strange, and I’m just laying there on the couch listening to comforting yet unusual sounds, feeling safe and cozy yet completely out of my reality. THIS is the essence of Animals for me and why it’s ranked so high. (I also love how WKRP in Cincinnati made fun of this section, which adds to the nostalgia.) Another killer moment is the echoed vocal (“stone...stone...stone…”) eight minutes in. This loop makes the album feel shadowy and dream-like, and I shiver when I hear it. It’s one of the creepiest things I’ve ever heard in a rock song - and the loop even pops up for a rare moment in “Sheep.” Most of my love of Animals focuses on “Dogs,” but the rest of the album maintains the atmosphere. “Pigs (Three Different Ones)” sounds like “Have a Cigar” on Wish You Were Here with a Lennon-esque undertone. “Sheep” opens with one of Richard Wright’s greatest moments. I’m exaggerating, but I can listen to this keyboard intro and feel the entire 1970s distilled into just these few moments. I listen to it and want to close my eyes and pop up somewhere in 1977 when music like this was regularly released. Pink Floyd handles the magic of their peak in an undisciplined way, and it’s almost frustrating to hear how they almost fuck it up so many times. Once “Sheep” fully kicks in, it weirdly seems to have the same beat and rhythm as “100,000 Years” by KISS. And then the album ends where it begins. Most of my essays extend to three paragraphs, but I think I’ve said enough about Animals. It’s like explaining a dream. The more I explain it, the more I lose the original feeling. So let’s keep Animals a dream - a dream that stirs up the memories that remain purely a part of my own subjectivity, not shared with any other human being.
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