OndaTop

Let's get one thing straight from the start: this playlist is essentially a game. It's a list that could be shuffled at random with (almost) equally satisfying results, and to which just as many equally worthy songs could be added. Still, we hope this OndaTop 30 of Pink Floyd can also be useful, offering a chance to replay/rediscover some of the classics from a band that hardly needs an introduction.

Pink Floyd fans often split into rather unpleasant factions and feuds. There are the die-hard Barrett loyalists, for whom everything ended with the departure of the Crazy Diamond; the devotees of the total cult of Roger Waters, who tend to downplay any role played by David Gilmour and the rest of the band in crafting the songs; and finally — a more recent phenomenon — the guitarist's ultras and sworn enemies of the former leader, capable of turning the tables entirely and dismissing the brilliance of Waters's concepts. We're happy to distance ourselves from all these warring factions, preferring instead to focus on the collective nature of the Floyd experience, the product of multiple minds and musical visions which — much like the Beatles, the Stones, the Who, Led Zeppelin and so on — has amply proven that there's strength in unity. We do, however, find it hard to lend much credibility to the English band's final incarnation, the Waters-less trilogy of "A Momentary Lapse of Reason", "The Division Bell" and "The Endless River". An era that, in this writer's view, had by then lost every trace of the overflowing creativity Pink Floyd had managed to sustain over the previous two decades of recording, despite departures, quarrels and constant tensions.

Below, then, are our 30 favourite songs — with a comment on each — along with the accompanying playlist. Now it's up to you, perhaps, to tell us yours.

30. Learning To Fly

Perhaps the finest fruit of the post-Waters Pink Floyd, this single was released in 1987 as the first taste of "A Momentary Lapse Of Reason", the first album without the leader, following the fateful, definitive break of "The Final Cut". David Gilmour took the reins of the group, convinced that Waters had come to see music merely as a vehicle for his own lyrics, at the expense of the sound's quality. Not that what Gilmour and the surviving members produced was especially original, but at least the guitarist's trademark stays front and centre, with a dazzling new solo. The lyrics, meanwhile, the product of an improvised partnership with Anthony Moore, Bob Ezrin and Jon Carin, don't leave much of a mark. But the track as a whole is "classic" Floyd, and thoroughly enjoyable.

29. Sysyphus – Part 1-2

With Syd Barrett gone — he'd left the group at the start of 1968 — but with their experimental ambitions fully intact, at the end of 1969 Pink Floyd released the double album "Ummagumma": half live, featuring the band's early classics; half studio, with contributions from each of the four musicians as "soloists", through experimental compositions built around their respective instruments. The first two parts of the opening suite "Sysy'phus", credited to Wright, blend classical music and avant-garde. Perhaps a touch dated and not the easiest listen, but endlessly fascinating.

28. The Nile Song

The heaviest song Pink Floyd ever wrote? Written by Waters and sung by Gilmour, it's the second track on "More" (1969), the soundtrack to the film of the same name. Curiously, while the rest of the LP was released in stereo, "The Nile Song" was mixed in mono and processed into Duophonic stereo. The chord progression is equally distinctive: a series of modulations running through six different keys before returning to the starting point (A). Certainly the closest the English band ever came to heavy metal and hard rock.

27. Lucifer Sam

One of Syd Barrett's masterfully dazed nursery rhymes that enrich the debut "The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn". It's also something of a proto-hard rock track, with a descending riff winding through the guitar sound (filtered through an echo machine) and the spatial vibrations supplied by Richard Wright's Orientalist-tinged organ. The lyrics tell the story of a magical cat (Lucifer) with something inexplicable about it. Diabolically feline.

26. Wish You Were Here

Overplayed to death, but a classic nonetheless. You can't blame the song for the inevitable listening fatigue brought on by its overuse in heavy radio rotation (and beyond), but – in this writer's opinion – it's not quite the masterpiece some claim it to be either. The title track of "Wish You Were Here" remains a monument to nostalgia and loss, with a moving melody and lyrics that condense all the regret over the – more or less blameless – farewell to their former bandmate. Sung by Gilmour, written by Waters and dedicated to Barrett, it also remains one of the guitarist's most heartfelt performances.

25. The Gunner’s Dream

The absurdly maligned "The Final Cut" remains a fine record, dark and mournful, with its poetic excavation of the atrocities of war (it's dedicated to Eric Fletcher Waters, Roger's father, who died in Italy during the Second World War). "The Gunner's Dream" marks one of the most moving moments on the tracklist: the monologue of an airman who, after being hit in an aerial battle and plunging inexorably toward his death, looks back on his past life and the future that will carry on without him. A poignant testament that, deep down, is also something of Roger Waters's own farewell to his time with Pink Floyd, by then at its end. Musically, it alternates slow, subdued passages with fine instrumental touches (such as Rafael Ravenscroft's saxophone solos) and powerful orchestral sections, in which the strings stand out.

24. Mother

Waters moves us once again, this time delving into the psyche of Pink, the protagonist of the concept behind “The Wall”, in a track centered on the mother figure, a pivotal presence throughout the story. An overprotective mother who will mark Pink's entire existence, preventing him from finding independence, maturity and the ability to run his own life free of conditioning. It's a splendid acoustic ballad, its odd-time signature marked out by guitar, with precious "bucolic" touches of organ. A curious detail: the drums are played by one of the most in-demand session musicians of the era, Jeff Porcaro of Toto.

23. See Emily Play

Another legendary gem from the Barrett era. A psychedelic nursery rhyme that occupied side A of Pink Floyd's second single (side B held the equally precious "Scarecrow"). The lyrics tell of a girl Syd Barrett claimed to have seen in a forest while under the effects of hallucinogenic drugs, an effect recreated by the psychedelic atmosphere of the music and by lyrics bordering on nonsense. According to Nicholas Schaffner's book "A Saucerful of Secrets: The Pink Floyd Odyssey", the girl was in fact the artist Emily Young, daughter of Baron Wayland Hilton Young, nicknamed the "psychedelic schoolgirl". In 1971 the track was included on the splendid compilation of the early Floyd era, "Relics". Also notable is the cover version David Bowie recorded for his album "Pin Ups" (1973).

22. Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun

The "cosmic" tour de force of "A Saucerful Of Secrets", the remarkable 1968 transitional album that reflects the internal contradictions within the band as they broke away from Barrett's legacy, yet still delivers great flashes of inspiration, as in this piece which, according to Gilmour, contains some guitar parts played by Barrett himself, making it, as a result, the only Pink Floyd track to feature all five members. Waters, on the other hand, has said he borrowed the words from a book of Chinese poetry from the Tang dynasty period. The result is a powerful, mysterious and captivating track, on a collision course toward the heart of the sun.

21. Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2

Announced by the arrival of helicopters, one of the greatest hits of all time. An unprecedented demonstration of Floyd-style funk-rock, "Another Brick In The Wall, part 2" is disarmingly simple, built as it is on a single chord, yet decades on it still carries a striking emotional weight, and it hardly matters that the celebrated guitar solo wasn't even written by Gilmour. Above all, the children's chorus, made up of 23 kids from the fourth-year music class at Islington Green School in London, aged between 13 and 15, remains unforgettable. The lead single from "The Wall", it dominated radio stations across the world for a long time and stirred the wrath of South Africa's racist government, which banned its airplay, since the slogans in the chorus ("we don't need no education, we don't need no thought control") were used by Black protesters on the anniversary of the bloodily suppressed Soweto uprising. Every copy was pulled from shops, and anyone caught owning one even risked jail. An eternal anthem of freedom from every form of oppression.

20. Jugband Blues

As mentioned, “A Saucerful Of Secrets” is in some ways a child of the band's period of instability. This (brilliant) track is further proof of that: a small, delirious sketch in which Syd Barrett shows himself to be perfectly aware of his state of mental isolation, declaiming lines that, read in hindsight, seem to answer in advance the album the other four would dedicate to him a few years later. “It’s awfully considerate of you to think of me here / And I’m much obliged to you for making it clear / That I’m not here,” sings Barrett in this crooked, sorrowful piece. It's the farewell of Pink Floyd's original guiding mind, punctuated by fanfares and a gentle acoustic guitar. See you, Syd, on the dark side of the Moon.

19. Us And Them

Sketched out on piano by Rick Wright for the soundtrack of Antonioni's “Zabriskie Point” (under the original title “The Violent Sequence”), it would find better fortune a few years later, when “Us And Them,” one of the classics of “The Dark Side Of The Moon”, rose up from its chords. A tender, aching song that speaks of the futility of war, foreshadowing the theme so dear to Waters that would become a cornerstone of his final phase with Pink Floyd (on “The Wall” and “The Final Cut”) and of his entire solo career. In just a handful of lines, the bassist sketches a universal “us and them,” the eternal clash of civilizations, entrusting it to the words of a soldier addressing his enemy directly at the front, arriving at a bitter conclusion about the absurdity of conflict. Gilmour's tender vocal is paired with Dick Parry's hazy sax, while the voices heard in the background belong to people who happened to be present in the recording studio. Among them was Roger Manifold, a roadie for a band called The Hat, who answered Waters' question “when was the last time you hit someone?” with the line “…give 'em a quick, short, sharp shock”… which ended up in the actual recording!

18. Careful With That Axe, Eugene

Representing the live album “Ummagumma”, this shape-shifting Pink Floyd song was in a state of constant transformation across its various live versions, as well as its titles (including “Come in No. 51, Your Time Is Up” for Antonioni's film “Zabriskie Point”). In the version found on the sprawling 1969 LP, it takes on its most chaotic, delirious form: it opens with a bass line that's immediately joined by Wright's hypnotic organ, before building into an obsessive crescendo that erupts in Waters' inhuman scream – predating the one in “Another Brick In The Wall Part II” by several years – leaving room for the other instruments, before dissolving into an ending that quickly turns quiet, almost intangible. A psychedelic anthem, unrestrained and obsessive, in which Eugene's axe is ideally represented by drummer Nick Mason's rimshot.

17. The Final Cut

Staying on the subject of axes, here's the final, most painful cut. Not meant in a cinematic sense, as the pun in the title might suggest, but as the definitive break in the band's history. The title track of the 1983 album is at once Roger Waters' testament and the swan song of Pink Floyd as we knew them, that is, as one of the greatest rock bands of all time. What followed would be nothing more than a weary aftermath, seasoned on top of that with thoroughly unpleasant feuding. The testamentary ballad of Waters as Floydian leader tells of the isolation, depression and sexual repression of a man who goes as far as attempting suicide but “never had the nerve to make the final cut.” The connection to Pink's story in “The Wall” is obvious: it's no coincidence that this is one of the four tracks left off that album's tracklist (along with “The Hero’s Return,” “One Of The Few” and “Your Possible Pasts”) and reclaimed for “The Final Cut.” The most heart-wrenching farewell of all.

16. Welcome To The Machine

Among the highlights of “Wish You Were Here” is this outright invective against the record industry machine, which opens with the sound of an automatic door opening, described by Waters as “a symbol of musical discovery and progress betrayed by the music world, which is more interested in success and proves itself greedy.” A sinister moog announces the dystopian prophecy par excellence: becoming mere cogs in an alienating, ruthless machine that will gradually render us inept and empty out every trace of our dreams. That's exactly what happens to the young singer at the center of the song: through his dialogue with a callous, brusque record executive, his fate as a puppet of the music business is sealed, at the expense of quality and passion. The track fades away in a quick fade out, with party noises symbolizing “the lack of real contact and feeling between people,” again in the author's own words. The slow, relentless progression of synthesizers (including the VCS3 vibrations at the opening) and Gilmour's near-“shouted” vocal give the track a dark, futuristic atmosphere, one in which drums are entirely absent. An organized chaos that seals one of the most experimental moments on Gilmour and Wright's favorite album.

15. The Great Gig In The Sky

There was no way to leave out Clare Torry's flight of fancy, the immortal voice behind one of the most celebrated songs on “The Dark Side Of The Moon”. Hired for a mere 60 pounds, on the suggestion of sound engineer Alan Parsons, she sends “The Great Gig In The Sky” soaring with her majestic soul-gospel vocal solo, backed by the chord progression of Wright's keyboards (a piece originally titled “The Mortality Sequence” or “The Religion Song”). A spectacular track that seals the new Floydian psychedelia of the mid-70s, more sophisticated and smooth compared to the raw, dissonant sound of their early days. Trivia: the opening spoken word parts are delivered by the Irish doorman of Abbey Road Studios, Gerry O’Driscoll, and by Patricia Watts, wife of road manager Peter Watts, who engage in a dialogue about the fear of death (“…and I am not frightened of dying, you know/ Any time will do, I don’t mind/ Why should I be frightened of dying?”). The underpaid Clare Torry, for her part, would get her revenge in court when, in 2005, Britain's High Court of Justice ruled her a co-holder of the song's copyright.

14. Summer ’68

The third track on “Atom Heart Mother” is the crowning achievement of a Wright at the peak of his creative powers. Irresistible from its sweet opening piano riff, which projects the listener into a dreamy, fairy-tale-like folk atmosphere, before giving way to daringly pompous passages, marked by the brass of the Abbey Road Session Pops Orchestra, which turn the piece into a symphonic ode without ever undermining this triumphant hymn to the joy of living. It's the evocation of a love story, a flashback to those unrepeatable moments and the emotions that a fleeting summer encounter can leave behind. And it's no ordinary summer, but that of '68.

13. One Of These Days

“Meddle” (1971) is the album on which Pink Floyd turn towards a more rock-oriented sound, one better suited to live performance. Opening the tracklist is this stunning instrumental piece, built around Waters' hammering bass line in triple time, amplified experimentally with a Binson echo unit, and further enriched by Gilmour's long slide-guitar solo. Halfway through the track we hear the only spoken line in the piece: “One of these days I'm going to cut you into little pieces,” delivered by Nick Mason in a falsetto voice played back at half speed. It would become a live staple from 1972 through 1977. Its final performance as Pink Floyd took place on 29 October 1994, during the “The Division Bell Tour”.

12. Dogs

Born as an assemblage of material left over from “Wish You Were Here”, “Animals” (1977) would come to be regarded over the years as one of the most original and evocative works by Pink Floyd. A sort of invective against certain figures of society (with Waters' lyrics as scathing as ever), Orwellian-style stand-ins in the form of animal species, it would teach new wave a great deal, and deserves special attention too for its compelling rhythmic construction, with every instrument always in perfect harmony, almost fused together into a single sound, never resorting to empty virtuosity for its own sake. It also marks Waters' rise to (absolute?) power, more than ever the dominus of the group (he pens 4 of the 5 tracks) with his leaden vision of an increasingly desolate and alienating United Kingdom. “Dogs” is the only track that also bears Gilmour's signature: from Orwell's “Animal Farm” to the bassist's bleak prophecies, 17 minutes of j'accuse against the hypocritical social climbers of the middle class, determined to carve out a higher place for themselves in the chain of command represented by the “pigs”. Completing a piece that had been left in Gilmour's drawer (under the title “You've Gotta Be Crazy”), it's a shifting suite that opens gently on acoustic guitar arpeggios, before growing darker with Wright's keyboards and becoming ever more violent, amid the guitarist's electric solos and anguished screams.

11. Interstellar Overdrive

Among the highest peaks of “The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn” and of Syd Barrett's entire output, these nearly ten minutes of cosmic psychedelia stand out. It's the chronicle of a human journey into the universe, opening with a horror-movie riff and unfolding according to a single rule: at least one instrument must keep the rhythm going. And over that rhythm unfolds a positively acid jam session, full of speeding spaceships, colliding asteroids, aliens and alienation, walls in space, stellar storms, cosmic stillness, unreachable paradises. But the real journey is the one into Syd's mind, sketching out unsettling, frightening scenes, or plunging into liquid universes beyond human reach. “Interstellar Overdrive” was also a staple of Pink Floyd's earliest live shows at the UFO Club, with their light show projecting hallucinatory slides directly onto the band, slides coated with ink designed to melt for visual effects of enormous impact. A triumph of visionary art.

10. Brain Damage/Eclipse

Trapped on the far side of the Moon, the darker, less accessible one, the chosen realm of madness. One of the most memorable “journeys into the mind” in the history of rock, that of “Brain Damage”, stalked by an alien presence, a madman who amuses himself by torturing us, planting disturbing thoughts in our heads: “The lunatic is in my head… There's someone in my head, but it's not me”. The theme of mental illness is a clear reference to the case of Syd Barrett and his estrangement from the band (“And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes/ I'll see you on the dark side of the moon”). But it would be reductive to limit its excavation of the mind's crevices to mere biographical device. Opened by a delicate electric guitar arpeggio that precedes Waters' vocal entrance, after an initial dreamlike, monotone phase, the track explodes into a commanding chorus built on major chords, with the entrance of the choir, drums and all the other instruments; it's here that the album's title is also quoted (“I see you on the dark side of the Moon”). After a synthesizer solo (which echoes the vocal melody), the track flows seamlessly into the crescendo of “Eclipse”, which we've therefore chosen to treat here as ideally merged into a single track, closed — as if bringing things full circle — by the same heartbeat pulses that opened the record, and by that disarming final remark — “There's no dark side of the moon really: matter of fact, it's all dark” — once again entrusted to Abbey Road's caretaker.

9. Echoes

The sixth and final track on “Meddle” is a colossal suite of over 23 minutes that remains one of the most memorable testaments to the instrumental power of Pink Floyd. After the prelude — composed by Wright and created by extending the sound of a grand piano amplified through a Leslie speaker, along with a high note produced by Gilmour's slide guitar — the drums enter to herald the verse, sung by the guitarist; then a long electric guitar solo clears the way for a startling foray into funk — with Gilmour's distorted guitar and Waters' slide bass to the fore — until Wright's Farfisa organ bursts in, leading into another crescendo rooted in psych-prog, closed by the final coda, with Gilmour's solo in dialogue with Wright's piano, fading out. An absolute tour de force born from a series of 36 different musical ideas, out of which grew the embryonic version (“Return Of The Son Of Nothing”), later renamed “Echoes”. It's also the track that lends its title to the 2001 anthology “Echoes: The Best Of Pink Floyd”, where it appears in a shortened 16-minute-30 version. The song's theme is ambitious too: a reflection on the genesis of the world and the cyclical nature of life. One of those Pink Floyd tracks that — as Eugenio Finardi once recalled — “you could go get a coffee while it was playing on the radio and still be back in the studio before it ended”.

8. Hey You

Musically one of the finest songs on "The Wall", it nonetheless struggles to find a clear place within the narrative of Waters' project. Originally intended to close side three, it was instead placed at the start of that side on the record, and in the 1982 film it was cut altogether. It's the track that marks Pink's shift from isolation from reality to the moment he embraces the fascist movement of the Worms. "Hey You" is a desperate cry for help directed at the outside world, and the worms are the symbolic representation of decay. In other words, whoever isolates themselves, rots away ("and the worms ate into his brain"). What brands it most indelibly is Gilmour's solo, played over a hypnotic riff in a crescendo of great intensity, marked by guitar arpeggios and dreamlike keyboard notes. A brief variation, and we're back to bass flourishes over a muted carpet of teeming sounds, seemingly evoking insects, parasites, worms. A curious detail: even the splendid fretless bass part that opens the song has been credited to Gilmour on the recent compilation "Echoes".

7. Time

Among the immense contributions engineer Parsons made to "The Dark Side Of The Moon" is the creation of a series of curious and innovative sound effects, such as the ticking and chiming of clocks, alarms and pendulums heard on this track, sounds that good old Alan had recorded in an antique shop. "Time" is also one of the album's most captivating songs. Mason's sharp snare hit that introduces the verse sung by Gilmour is unforgettable, and Gilmour then unleashes another one of his searing electric guitar solos, with Wright backing him on the vocal sections. But no less valuable is the contribution of Waters' lyrics, a bitter reflection on the unease and emptiness in which young people are immersed, then as now, as well as a chilling warning about time slipping away and the need not to waste it, with the nagging suspicion of being trapped in a loop with no way out (“Sciupi e sprechi le ore senza curartene/ Mentre vaghi nello stesso pezzo di terra della tua città… E poi un giorno scopri/ che ti sei lasciato dietro dieci anni”). And that unforgettable line: “Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way”.

It is, above all, one of the most successful examples of "Floydian choral art": it's no coincidence that it bears the signatures of all four band members.

6. Pigs (Three Different Ones)

The peak of the Orwellian invective of "Animals" is introduced by applying the so-called "talk box" to Roger Waters's bass, producing the famous grunts of that pig which, in inflatable form, would go on to become one of the band's icons, floating above the stage during live shows. Unlike "Dogs" and "Sheep", "Pigs" was not the product of earlier sessions, but a track written and composed specifically for the occasion by a deeply inspired Waters, determined to express the social and moral decay of society by comparing the human condition to that of animals, in the vein of Orwell's "Animal Farm". Several musical passages make it memorable: Wright's sinister Hammond organ intro, working through a minor-key phrase built on two chords whose structure recalls certain Bach preludes (later repeated at the seven-minute mark), the bass solo followed by the rhythm guitar chords, the sumptuous entrance of the drums heralding Waters's vocal part, which denounces the "pigs" - those who "fatten up" at others' expense - right through to the choral coda where all the instruments come crashing in in support of Gilmour's solo, which fades into the start of the next track. While it's likely that then-Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was among the "targets", it's certain that the third verse is aimed at moral crusader Mary Whitehouse, described as a "house proud town mouse" who "keeps it all locked up inside". It would become another classic of Floyd's live shows, where it would eventually stretch past the 20-minute mark.

5. Astronomy Domine

The most famous space excursion of the Barrett era, a cornerstone of the debut album "The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn" (1967), is nothing less than the account of a stellar journey undertaken by Syd through the use of LSD. The pulsing bass represents the radio connection with Earth, while the ever-present guitar - made even more psychedelic by phasing and reverb effects - together with a majestic, solemn vocal line, seem to wander through a dark cosmic landscape, with Mason's frenzied drumming underscoring the most dramatic moments. The title is inspired by Gregorian chants, where the word Domine ("Lord") frequently recurs. The song opens with the voice of Pink Floyd's then-manager, Peter Jenner, reciting the names of the stars through a megaphone, like an astronaut speaking over an intercom. The idea of interstellar travel is not merely physical but also represents an inner exploration, a theme that would recur throughout the entire Pink Floyd songbook. The peak of experimentation at the gates of dawn.

4. Atom Heart Mother Suite

The monumental suite of Mucca, the orchestral zenith of the Floydian era's closest brush with prog (absurdly disowned by Waters). At the dawn of the '70s, the English band embarked on an extremely ambitious project: a long instrumental composition that would be given the curious working title of "The Amazing Pudding". For the orchestral parts, they brought in Scottish musician Ron Geesin, who was tasked with enriching the "bare-bones" version built by the four band members. The result is stunning: this splendid suite, epic and majestic, unfolds through extraordinary dialogues between symphonic music (in particular, the use of brass and choir) and rock. The title "Atom Heart Mother" was inspired by a news story about a pregnant woman kept alive by an atomic pacemaker. The track thus became the title track of the 1970 album, occupying the entire first side. It's a goldmine of brilliant instrumental passages: from the famous interplay between arpeggiated organ and cello, to Gilmour's guitar solo, right through to the onomatopoeic vocals of the choir, which engage in a vibrant, powerful dialogue with Wright's organ until the tension dissolves as the horns, liberating, bring back the opening theme.

If the suite form and the use of symphonic orchestration are among the cornerstones of prog, it's equally true that the affinities between Pink Floyd and the genre end there. Partly because "Atom Heart Mother" would remain a one-off, and partly because the band's habit of stretching out song lengths dates all the way back to their psychedelic beginnings at the UFO Club. So even in this hypothetical brush with prog, Pink Floyd managed to be original — unique, even.

3. Comfortably Numb

An immortal song, among the most beautiful in the entire Floydian catalogue, and indeed in all of rock. The orchestration, soft and light, seems to float, and it's in that suspended sensation that our dreams cling too. The verse is sung by Roger Waters, then the voice of David Gilmour bursts in for another tale of estrangement and alienation. Adding to its allure are small, memorable touches — like the scream that opens the second verse — which have gone down in rock history and in our collective musical imagination. Gilmour, at the very top of his game, closes the song magnificently with one of the greatest solos of all time. Intense, dramatic, tense, with notes that have never come so close to the force of a cold razor blade — the very one Pink uses in the film to shave his chest and eyebrows — one that, with every listen, cuts through every defence and goes straight to the heart. A legendary track, one that Waters saw fit to revisit 45 years later on "Comfortably Numb 2022", stripping it of every remaining '70s trace — including Gilmour's solo — for a more contemporary sound dominated by synths, harmonium and bass: nothing close to the power of the original masterpiece.

2. Julia Dream

One of the most enigmatic and delicate gems in Pink Floyd's discography. Released in 1968 as the B-side of the single "It Would Be So Nice" and later included on the treasured compilation "Relics", "Julia Dream" bears the signature of Roger Waters and also marks David Gilmour's debut as a vocalist. It opens with a delicate acoustic guitar arpeggio that conjures a dreamlike, suspended folk atmosphere, further heightened by the soft vocals wrapped in light reverb; it then takes flight on a poignant Mellotron — the fetish instrument of the '60s–'70s — played by Richard Wright, set to a flute-like tone and transfigured through heavy use of echo, which sharpens the sense of floating and disorientation. Despite the fairy-tale atmosphere, an irrepressible sense of melancholy dominates, matching the enigma of the lyrics through a dreamlike, fragmented narrative: "Sunlight bright upon my pillow / Lighter than an eiderdown / Will she let the weeping willow / Wind his branches round?". A departure from the more experimental, noise-driven style of their early days, in favour of a dreamlike melodic sweetness. Dream-pop ante-litteram?

1. Shine On You Crazy Diamond (1-5) (6-9)

"Julia Dream" could have taken the number 1 spot too, but we chose to give the top step of the podium to one of the most emblematic and monumental pieces — and by far the longest (26 minutes) — in Pink Floyd's discography, with its nine movements sweeping across boundless expanses of rock history. The music was composed mainly by Gilmour and Wright, with some contributions from Waters, who also wrote the lyrics, inspired by their former bandmate Syd Barrett, aka "Crazy Diamond". The band would have liked the suite to fit on a single side of the album, but given its length, it ended up split into two parts, one on each side.

Unforgettable from the very first listen is the chilling intro, with the slow, hypnotic notes of Gilmour's Fender Stratocaster which, combined with the ethereal tones of Wright's synthesizer, create a sense of spatial immensity, made even more unsettling by the fluid chord progression in the background, produced by the band members running their fingers around the rims of wine glasses. Then comes the song's four-note theme, known as "Syd's Theme", played on electric guitar and soon joined by drums and bass. From here on it's a succession of astonishing developments, in which every instrument has its own space and no single element overpowers another, even though Gilmour's masterful riffs take centre stage. Waters' bass moves with discretion, while Mason provides measured drumming that supports the sonic vastness, and Dick Parry's saxophone inserts lend the track an even more reflective, almost jazzy quality. In Parts VI-IX, the piece takes on a darker, more reflective tone, coming full circle with a repeated instrumental theme that echoes the opening of the suite, as if to underline the end of the journey, steeped in melancholy. In the background lies Syd's descent into an oblivion of alienation and madness, with that desperate plea captured in one line: "Come on you raver, you seer of visions". Not just a tribute to a lost friend, but a universal meditation on the fleetingness of existence and of the artistic condition.

(Contributions by Filippo Neri and Sigfrido Menghini)

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05/02/2026