Overpriced Dark Side of the Moon Boxed Set Is A Mixed Blessing

What else is left to say about Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon at this point? Judging from the 50th-anniversary edition, the resounding answer is: nothing. Though the new, lavish package isn’t exactly short on features, it contains no retrospective commentary whatsoever—a highly unusual move when it comes to milestone reissues, especially of albums as recognizable as this one. If surviving members David Gilmour, Nick Mason and their estranged former leader Roger Waters are sending a message with this presentation, it’s that the music here speaks for itself.

Of course, it could just be that the two camps, locked in an eternal feud since well before Waters left the band in 1984, simply couldn’t agree. (A difference of opinion over the liner notes for last year’s deluxe Animals reissue delayed its release for months.) Either way, the absence of an imposing outside narrative only perpetuates the sense of mystery that’s fundamental to these songs. And it’s not like the public needs much help putting this album into context: a game-changer that towers over the pop-culture landscape on-par with Led Zeppelin IV, Sgt Pepper’s and Thriller, it’s hard to imagine that anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of pop culture doesn’t recognize the iconic cover image, at least in passing.

Dark Side is not only one of the best-selling albums in history, but it also spent an astoundingly long stretch of time on the Billboard 200. The tallying method for that chart has changed multiple times since the album’s release in March of 1973, but let’s just say there’s a prevailing sense that this music has been around so long it feels like it’s going to live on forever. Looking back half a century later, it’s hard to put one’s finger on why Pink Floyd struck such a profound, seemingly universal chord with their eighth full-length.

A deeply insular outfit who eschewed the sweaty throes of rocking-out for an almost unnatural level of restraint, Pink Floyd came across as utterly disinterested in making a connection with the audience, or even in highlighting themselves. Watching the band burn its way through earlier—and considerably more ferocious—material the year before making Dark Side in the classic concert film Live at Pompeii, other than drummer Nick Mason, the rest of the band barely moves, even as the music approaches a boil. Fittingly, there’s no audience, and the band appears puny before its surroundings, the amplifier cabinets and the power of the music the only defense against getting swallowed up.

While Pink Floyd were not performers in the classic sense, they didn’t lack passion. In fact, it was their ability to marshal their collective energies into a kind of musically tantric steadiness that put them in a class entirely by themselves. With Dark Side, they hit the bullseye, softening their approach while sharpening their focus and broadening their scope, creating a work of unparalleled flow and atmosphere. The acid-fried psychedelia of their previous work may have marked Pink Floyd as unlikely candidates for mass appeal, but there’s no questioning why repeated generations of listeners have gotten whisked away into their own heads while listening on headphones.

One of rock music’s ultimate start-to-finish statements, Dark Side set the high water mark for the concept album, as well as for headphone listening. One could literally speak volumes about the appeal of every instrument, every note, and every intangible quality on this record: Gilmour’s lighter-than-air guitar (and vocals to match), Richard Wright’s jazzy piano chords, the mutant earworm funk of Waters’ bass, Mason’s ability to hit the drums as lightly and as unhurriedly as humanly possible, the background vocals and saxophone from guest musicians whose parts fit seamlessly, the one-of-a-kind production from Alan Parsons and Chris Thomas—and, of course, Waters’ overarching lyrical concept, which points inward while looking outward at universal themes.

Together, along with a slew of sound effects, this team of people created a sense of acoustic space that’s as sublime as any sound that’s ever been committed to tape. And you could argue that bands like Radiohead and Tool owe their very existence, whether directly or not, to Dark Side of the Moon. The question is: did we need an umpteenth reissue of something that’s already so deeply wedged into our collective consciousness, particularly after 2011’s more comprehensive Immersion boxed set edition? In a word: no.

If you already own the Immersion edition, you’ll most definitely want to look before you leap, unless you’re either a completist or an audiophile. Even then, you should know that certain YouTube collector types—who comprise the exact target market for these packages—have come down hard in voicing their displeasure with this one (like here, here, here, and here). Why? Because the new set contains much less content than the Immersion box and lists at nearly three times as much as that one did. Not included here are Parsons’ alternate mix, the demos, or any of the video content released in 2011.

So what’s new this time around? Well, not much, other than a brand new remaster of the album by James Guthrie (who also did the previous two remasters in 2003 and 2011), a new Dolby Atmos surround mix, and a vinyl pressing of the whole album performed live as part of a longer recording culled from two nights at Wembley Empire Pool (now Wembley Arena) in 1974. The Dark Side portion of the Wembley recording was included in CD form the last time around. It has not been remastered for this edition, but the good news is that listeners can finally access it as a standalone item now on DSPs and on vinyl (in slightly truncated form) for a reasonable price. Setting aside the bloated price tag of the whole box—and the fact that, for some inexplicable reason, the band has never released the complete Wembley show in one place—this release campaign gives us an excuse to revisit what should be recognized as a first-rate live recording.

Pink Floyd were quite capable of dialing-in the tones and subtlety that we’ve all come to know from the studio versions of these songs. By 1974, the band had obviously mastered the hyper-disciplined dynamic control that had become its calling card. These live renditions also feature an array of pre-recorded sounds that mimic the sound-effect palette of the record, and the band had no qualms about making the audience wait as the samples ran their course. Touring with guest vocalists Venetta Fields and Carlena Williams, and saxophonist Dick Parry helped Pink Floyd get even closer to an approximation of the record. Meanwhile, mixing engineer Andy Jackson chose to give this mix an almost identical spatial dimension as the main album. Still, this is hardly a carbon-copy.

In spots, there’s just a touch more fire in the band’s engine. There’s more rasp, for example, in Gilmour’s voice, such as when he sings “keep your hands off my stash” on the radio staple “Money.” With Pink Floyd, even the slightest hints of aggression go a long way. It would have been nice for Jackson’s mix to convey the heat, the proximity and the feeling of sound moving through the air of a live concert, especially when the music reflects the underlying volatility in the lyrics. There’s little doubt, though, that this is how Pink Floyd wanted the audience to hear the show at the time, as if ticketholders had walked through the doors at Wembley Arena and found themselves transported into the record itself.

This recording makes it quite apparent that Pink Floyd had absolutely no interest in indulging any rock and roll bombast. The sound and fury of the rock-show ritual just wasn’t their thing. But once you get acclimated to the enclosed character of the sonics here, you get a sense for just how extraordinary Jackon’s mix truly is. And on the airier, more delicate moments from Dark Side—”Breathe,” “Us and Them,” etc.—the recording showcases what a sublime force Pink Floyd could be in person, how adept they’d gotten at their craft by this period. And in spite of their physical stiffness, they were able to inject life into these songs—no small feat from one of the most insistently detached live bands in rock history.

Though this package as a whole is bound to frustrate—even anger—loyal fans, collectors, and completists, the fact that we have occasion to revisit the Wembley recording with ease should be looked at as a triumph. And, though the new edition epitomizes the excesses of the boxed set market, we should focus instead on how the live material allows us to hear Dark Side of the Moon from a fresh perspective after taking it for granted for so long.

Saby Reyes-Kulkarni is a longtime contributor at Paste. He believes that a music journalist’s job is to guide readers to their own impressions of the music. You can find him on Twitter and Substack at feedbackdef.substack.com