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I had the good fortune to be able to afford a front row ticket to what I think was the most important rock concert I will ever attend. Many in Greece couldn’t, and the company responsible for the event shamelessly denied Roger Waters’ request that people be allowed to attend with a low price ticket of 18 Euros.

If you are unemployed, like 1.6 million Greeks (or more) are right now, even 18 Euros is not a trivial amount.

After watching The Wall again all these years later, I can safely say that today it is more relevant than ever, more relevant than all the works of all other modern rock groups put together, at least in a political sense. It is as if the unmistakable rise of totalitarianism in the world today is accompanied by the steady muting of voices who argue, the dulling of modern music’s edge, the lapse of the collective artistic conciousness into an iStore-induced coma.

I am not talking about anger. Rage Against the Machine did that very well 20 years ago, but what did it amount to, when all is said and done? More on this later.

Darkness. A few eerie notes are heard in the distance and then the bass shatters the silence. Every notes strikes your chest, as if from inside. Somehow, the sound feels like it reverberates from your heart. Light, music, singing, screaming. A plane crashes above in a shower of sparks as a father dies and a baby is born.

And thus begins the journey of Pink into life. All the major actors in his life, his over-protective mother who guides and comforts, his teacher who punishes and conditions, his girlfriend which betrays (and is betrayed), all help him build the Wall.

The Teacher (Photo by S.M.)

The Teacher (Photo by S.M.)

Eventually, he becomes a rock star. By that time, however, the Wall has alienated him from everyone and everything around him, making him comfortably numb. Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll try to fill in the gaping holes in his life, to no avail. Pink becomes violent and delusional. Finally, he loses all contact with reality, imagining that he is a dictator with absolute power over his audience, shooting anyone whom he finds unworthy.

Delusions of Fascism

Riddled with guilt, he puts himself on trial, with all the key figures in his life acting as witnesses against him. He is reduced from a man to a fleshy, faceless doll, waiting pathetically in a corner for his inescapable condemnation.

The human puppet (Photo by O.N.G.)

But the judge does not sentence him to death. Instead, he orders him to tear down the Wall and he does so, finally freeing himself as an eerily happy music fades in the distance.

The basics of the story are unchanged and still, 34 years later, they are all too relevant, as education deteriorates, people turn away from meaningful relationships, governments turn away from democracy, religious and racial hatred flourishes and war continues to thrive. The story is not just about one man, but also about the way each individual Wall becomes another brick in a huge structure representing our entire society.

The Wall

Waters enriched the original vision of Pink Floyd with modern elements, as the Wall is “painted” with graffiti inspired by Apple’s iDolizing marketing. iNeed, iBelieve, iTeach, iKill. Cleverly placed amongst them is iResist with the image of a protester tossing a molotov. In the end, this kind of resistance is another marketed product, aimed at the (rightfully) frustrated people but offering nothing more than a justification of violent suppression by the government. Experience has shown that massive, peaceful demonstrations are much more effective than setting the instruments of a government on fire.

The writing on The Wall

Other lines of graffiti on the Wall were no less insightful. “Enjoy Capitalism” styled as the Coca-Cola logo. And “if at first you don’t succeed, call an airstrike”.

Another striking image, shocking in its simplicity and truth, is that of the endless line of bombers dropping symbols: the dollar sign, the hammer-and-sickle, the Christian cross, the crescent moon and star of Islam, the star of David, the Mercedes sign, the McDonald’s logo and that of Shell falling like bombs and covering everything in red. All of them symbols used and misused to separate people with walls of greed, bigotry, fanaticism and hollow ambition.

And, of course, the image of the hammers doing the duck march in oppressively perfect rows of red and black. Today, 31 years after their appearance in the iconic film by Alan Parker they are reminding us not of the past, but of the possible and very likely future.

Another new concept was that of the wall depicting victims of war, terrorism and state violence from WWI to the Gezi park protests. Famous politicians, well-known activists together with largely “unknown”, but named soldiers of every war in between, civilian casualties, rescuers from the 9/11 Ground Zero, amongst them a Greek soldier who died in the Albanian mountains in 1940.

The Wall of the fallen

The Wall of the fallen

One could be tempted to turn criticism against the work itself, with all its special effects and high tech sound and imagery, the last g(r)asp of an ageing rock star for a few more dollars. Or Euros, as it were. But the essence of the work remains, regardless of any intention, selfish or not, of one of its main creators. I was reminded of my student years, when I used to mock my left-wing colleagues, most of whom had the latest cell phones of the time, while I still didn’t have one (and didn’t want one). Their half-serious answer was that “they used the system to fight the system”.

Well, “comrades”, if I ever saw anyone using the system to speak up against it, that would be Roger Waters.

Intermission #19

The intro

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So I was on Youtube just a few minutes ago, listening to some good old Greek rock from the late ’70s – early ’80s, when I noticed a comment by a Turkish guy under a video of Pavlos Sidiropoulos, saying that he thought the music was really good, but he couldn’t understand the lyrics.

I really liked that.

You know, music is supposed to bring people together, and it does. And translators are supposed to promote understanding by breaking language barriers. And being a translator, I thought I should do this. So here goes a “loose” translation for a Greek blues song, as requested by a friend from Turkey.

The song is called “Babis o flou” from the LP “FLOU” (1978). I do not own the song, or lyrics, just the translation freely offered in the name of love (and/for) music.

Babis the loose

I’m gonna tell you a story
about Babis, Babis the loose,
you told him, hey Babis what’s up
he said loose, man, everything is loose

Always drunk and jobless
he was cool, he was, Babis the loose
humming alone and all the time
he said loose, man, everything is loose

He teased whomever he wanted
without another thought
and if he was a bit bored
he lay down wherever to catch some sun

He teased the brunettes,
he was cool, he was, Babis the loose
he pinched the blondes,
he was cool, Babis the loose

And when he got caught
he played dead, Babis the loose,
and if questioned too much
he said loose, man, everything is loose

He teased whomever he wanted
without another thought
and if he was a bit bored
he lay down wherever to catch some sun

Ο Μπάμπης ο Φλου

Μια ιστορία θα σας πω
για το Μπάμπη το Μπάμπη τον φλου
που του ‘λεγες βρε Μπάμπη τι τρέχει εδώ
σού ‘λεγε φλου, φίλε μου όλα είναι φλου

Πάντα πιωμένος κι άνεργος
ήταν ωραίος ο Μπάμπης ο φλου
μουρμούραει μόνος και διαρκώς
σού ‘λεγε φλου, φίλε μου όλα είναι φλου

Πείραζε όποιον του ‘ρχότανε
χωρίς να το σκεφτεί
κι άμα ψιλοβαριότανε
άραζε όπου ‘βρισκε να λιαστεί

Πείραζε όποιον του ‘ρχότανε
χωρίς να το σκεφτεί
κι άμα ψιλοβαριότανε
άραζε όπου ‘βρισκε να λιαστεί

Πείραζε τις μελαχρινές
ήταν ωραίος, ο Μπάμπης ο φλου
τσιμπολογούσε τις ξανθές
ήταν ωραίος, ο Μπάμπης ο φλου

Κι όταν τον μπουζουριάζανε
ψόφιος κοριός ο Μπάμπης ο φλου
κι αν τον πολυρωτάγανε
σού ‘λεγε φλου, φίλε μου όλα είναι φλου

Πείραζε όποιον του ‘ρχότανε
χωρίς να το σκεφτεί
κι άμα ψιλοβαριότανε
άραζε όπου ‘βρισκε να λιαστεί