For a few years, songwriter Roger Waters walked the fine line of obvious rage and subtle jabs at the problems of the world. Those best works would come through Pink Floyd and his first solo albums, and would drift from there. His outspoken ways in modern times are no surprise, or at least they shouldn’t be, given how often his fingers are on the pulse of society. His own reading may be years ahead or behind the world around him, but with a song like Welcome to the Machine, listeners must credit his foresight. The record industry is a cruel beast and, Waters knew as much, channelling it into a Wish You Were Here track that, like the rest of the songs on the album, was a career-best moment for all involved. Those five songs featured, particularly Welcome to the Machine and Have a Cigar, hold such a fury against the status quo of the times. It’s a group which has not changed, but is still worth fighting.
Welcome to the Machine offers that fight. It’s an invitation to join that status quo and the songs to follow it are a rejection of this plan. A mission to reduce art and squeeze the life out of every creative, to move them on as soon as we are finished with them. It’s an ugly truth of modern art and a factor which lay deep in the wordplay Waters offers here. David Gilmour delivers them effectively enough, a biting but subtle performance which would make his rejection of Have a Cigar all the more confusing. Gilmour would not accept the status quo but was willing to work with them, rather than rally against them as Waters would do more over his solo career. It became an obsessive point. Freedom to create is still the driving force Waters works with, and on a song like Welcome to the Machine, that much is clear.
That’s the case for many Pink Floyd songs, but here, even isolated from Have a Cigar, it’s clear. Waters writes with a fury, Gilmour sings with a passion, and the technological fears, the synth-like sound and robotic menace, only adds to that desperation. A rage burns through Welcome to the Machine. We must do what we can to fight against cold steel such as this. Tape effects, timings, all of it perfect in creating what is the strongest atmosphere of the five songs featured on Welcome to the Machine. Take the hand of the machine, the dirty deal. Waters would write brilliantly and poetically about this trade-off of life for the sake of commercial satisfaction on albums to follow. It would become an integral part of the Pink Floyd sound.
Crucially, Welcome to the Machine has time to explore its depths, those moments of staggering quality which come from instrumental breaks. It may be simple writing, but the harsh and clear moments are gutting. There is an intensity there which brings on a fight or flight response. Do you bundle into the car for projected safety, or do you stay out in the cold, where things are only going to get worse? How long do you wait until you sell out? That’s the question Waters proposes here. Gilmour delivers it viciously, and with a delicious instrumental boom throughout, though the message comes first, the instrumentals are strong, but never staggering. It still holds a relevancy now, too, as so many artists turn their back on values and commenting on the world around them to keep in the safety of their commercial comforts. Welcome to the Machine remains a staggering achievement from a band with more than a few hits to their name.
