The Wall: the liveblog

As a cozy protest against a winter that won't end, and also against February in general, L and I are going to liveblog the hell out of the remaining half of the Wall. Let's meet our bloggers:

Sabitathica: hello.
L: lounging on the windowseat to my left.
Mr. Phi: will hopefully not make an appearance tonight.

Side Three, go.

arpeggiation, a liquid harpsichord, a bass solo. dave harmonizing with himself. Wagnerian death rock, omg. dave plays the bass solos. ringo gets a gold star.

can lorca ride? is there anybody a little out there?

Q: what's stranger than roger's voice?
A: roger's voice plus delay.

roger has amazing powers of observation. enter the Hendrix Perm Orchestra.

L questions why anyone would eat with a silver spoon anyway, by way of pointing out the arbitrariness of the assignment of monetary value. she's talking about mass hypnosis. she thinks value should be assigned according to a thing's beneficence (or otherwise) to the wellbeing of all living things. or maybe i'm not really understanding. she would rather eat with a stainless steel spork than a silver spoon anyday. silver is apparently dangerous for some reason. worse than lead paint, because you're less likely to ingest lead paint. she's accusing me of just typing and not listening to her. she's clearly beginning to lose her mind.

Vera is the saddest song roger ever sang, except for all the songs on the final cut. does anybody else in here want to be anybody else in here? what became of you Vera?

let us bring the boys back home and then we'll recapitulate.

a lifetime of lacksadaisy has been thrown. things don't look so good.

is anybody in there very out there? comfortably numb is the wall's emotional peak. the images, the guitar solo in the clouds. but the gorgeous orchestrations are nautical, so you may feel a little sick.

side three begins and ends with dave. roger operates the whirlpool in between.

So now you know. Let's take a break, come back, and listen to side four.