#08 - Welcome To The Machine from Wish You Were Here (1975)
Appeared On: 29 ballots (out of 33 . . . 87.9%)
Total Points: 361 points (out of 825 possible points . . . 43.8%)
Top Rankers: @Yambag @BrutalPenguin @Desert_Power @Todem @BroncoFreak_2K3
Highest Rankings: 4, 5, 5
Demo #1,
Demo #2,
Vienna - 1977,
Frankfurt - 1977,
Philadelphia - 1987,
Paris - 1989,
DSOT,
RW - 1984,
RW - 2000, RW - 2016
Live Performances: PF: 55,
DG'S PF: 196,
RW: 340
Covers: Shadows Fall,
Das Zeichen, Doug Pinnick,
Queensryche,
Beak,
A Secret Death,
Pinwheel,
Katortz,
Kassothga,
Nameless,
Finger Eleven
Originally called The Machine Song, WTTM features heavily processed synthesizers and acoustic
guitars as well as a wide range of tape effects. RW: "Welcome to the Machine is about 'them and us,' and anyone who gets involved in the media process."
The recording of the album was the most difficult piece of work the group has ever done. At this point in time, both Roger's and Nick's marriages were coming to an unhappy conclusion. This created an atmosphere of extreme despondency when the band went into the studio. NM: "I really did find the time in the studio extremely horrible — not because of what was going on in the band but what was going on outside the studio. And PF being the band that they are, that meant it went on for 9 months. We were all rather badly mentally ill. When we were putting that one together we were all completely exhausted. My alarming despondency manifested itself in a complete rigor mortis. I didn't quite have to be carried about, but I wasn't interested. I couldn't get myself to sort out the drumming, and that of course drove everyone else even crazier."
DG on the recording process: "The only time we've ever used tape speed to help us with vocals was on one line of the Machine song. It was a line I just couldn't reach so we dropped the tape down half a semitone and then dropped the line in on the track. The track is very much a made-up-in-the-studio thing which was all built up with a repeat echo used so that each 'boom' is followed by an echo repeat to give the throb. You don't start off with a regular concept of group structure or anything, and there's no backing track either. Really, it is just a studio proposition where we're using tape for its own ends -- a form of collage using sound. It's very hard to get a full synthesizer tone down on tape. If you listen to them before and after they've been recorded, you'll notice that you've lost a lot. And although I like the sound of a synthesizer through an amp, you still lose something that way as well. Eventually what we decided to do was to use D.I. on synthesizer because that way you don't increase your losses and the final result sounds very much like a synthesizer through a stage amp.
This song features a very rare music video only played during concerts. It features a particularly visceral depiction featuring corpses, rats, death, and waves of blood drawn by hand. Gerald Scarfe created the powerfully disturbing
video (it was a backdrop film for when the band played the track on its 1977 In The Flesh tour), which displays a giant mechanical beast somewhere between triceratops and armadillo lumbering across an apocalyptic city-scape. Emaciated rats leap around corpse-laden steel girders, gleaming industrial smokestacks crack and ooze blood, and a tower grows out of this desert, transforms into a screaming monster and decapitates an unsuspecting man. His head then very slowly decays to a damaged skull. Finally, an ocean of blood washes away this wasteland, and the waves turn into thousands of hands waving in rhythm to the music (much like people at a rock concert). Despite being pulled at by the bloody masses, one building survives and, synchronizing with the sound effects at the end of the song, flies up and away, high above the clouds to where it fits snugly into a hole inside a gargantuan floating ovoid structure.
Vulture Ranking (out of 165 songs): 4
UCR Ranking (out of 167 songs): 20
Louder Ranking (out of 50 songs): 15
WMGK Ranking (out of 40 songs): 4
Ranker Ranking (out of 132 songs): 19
Billboard Ranking (out of 50 songs): 35
Vulture Ranking (4 out of 165 songs): Talk about musique concrète — the slabs of sound here are massive; this is one of the greatest sci-fi rock songs of all time. The words track the childhood of what seems to be a rock star in the making with ominous results. The mix of the high electronics and prominent acoustic guitar sets up a tension; you wait for the vocals to come and buttress the acoustic instrument. Instead, they are a mechanical scream. (It’s another one of DG’s most amazing vocal performances.) One of the great parts of the PF story is how RW became everything he’d written about. He acted out his bildungsroman even as he wrote it. He fired Wright, whom he’d known since he was a teen. He fell out with Hipgnosis, the design firm that had done the album covers since Saucerful of Secrets. Finally, he divorced himself from the people who’d made everything he’d wanted to do possible, often despite his, Waters’s, best efforts to sabotage it all. Why, it’s almost as if he were building a wall around himself, becoming the machine he once railed against. That, Ms. Morissette, is what you call ironic.
UCR Ranking (20 out of 167 songs): Studio shenanigans at their finest. Whether RW’s song is about the “machine” of the music industry or a dystopian, machine-ruled society, the track’s human/mechanical dichotomy is personified by Gilmour. Not only do his warm-blooded acoustic guitars strum amidst invasive and bloodless synthesizers, his lead vocal is treated to sound like an emotionless, robotic overlord – a ghost in the machine. Machine squeezes gallons of unease from its terse lyrics while making the most out of every tick, buzz, thump and hum. The layers of sound are so skillfully realized, it’s like the song was recorded in 3D.
Louder Ranking (15 out of 50 songs): As if to reinforce its theme of the music industry as a corporate behemoth that prizes financial reward over creative expression, WTTM is built around the relentless synth pulse then decorated with DG’s acoustic guitar patterns. RW, who also brings a bank of tape effects, wrote the song as a commentary on PF’s own disaffection with aspects of the business. The narrative deals with the routine manipulation of a rock-star wannabe by the powers that be It’s a strikingly powerful song, made all the more compelling by time signatures that refuse to stay still for too long. “With a number like that you don’t start off with a regular concept of group structure,” explained DG, who called the track “a form of collage using sound”.
WMGK Ranking (4 out of 40 songs): A condemnation of the music industry (like Have A Cigar) but it could apply to the business of the arts in general. It surely describes a lot of kids who are smart, but didn’t fit in to a rigid school system (a theme Waters revisited in The Wall). But even when you “make it,” the realization that “we told you what to dream” rings as sad and true.
Billboard Ranking (35 out of 50 songs): Not necessarily the easiest song in the PF catalog to defend, particularly against those who view the band as nothing more than pandering fare for 14-year-olds who think they’re the first person to compare high school to a fascist regime. Yeah, but those sonics - where else are you gonna hear bass that throbs like muscle pain, acoustic chords where every individual note stabs like an icicle to the back, or synths that shoot off like laser fireworks in the post-Skynet sky? A compelling case that sometimes, we all gotta engage with that inner easily-mind-blown teen and do a little anti-machine raging.