Conceptually speaking, dividing the 'Pink Floyd Video Anthology' series into two parts with 'The Dark Side Of The Moon' as the breaking point was a pretty wise move, since the Pink Floyd that is covered on 'Volume 2' has very little in common with the Pink Floyd on 'Volume 1.' In fact, after watching these two compilations all the way through, one could convincingly argue that we are discussing two entirely different bands here.

Having spent the years from 1969-1973 as a touring-intensive outfit with a fanatically loyal (and steadily growing) underground fan base, the members of Pink Floyd returned to the road in the autumn of 1974 as the newest members of the rock superstar elite. Thrust inexorably forward by the worldwide runaway success of 'The Dark Side Of The Moon,' the band suddenly found themselves catapulted in status from playing traditional concert halls (and the occasional amphitheater) to holding court over vast sports stadiums before uncontrollable throngs totaling upwards of 100,000 per gig.

Perversely, it is also at this time that the band pretty much vanished entirely from public sight and became faceless, unreachable figures rendered nearly invisible beneath waves of hair, billowing clouds of smoke, and eye-popping pyrotechnics. This new, reinforced distance of the band from their new worldwide audience is immediately noticeable while watching the conceptual clip-heavy second volume of the 'Pink Floyd Video Anthology.' While the band appeared in every single clip shown on 'Volume 1,' they are not even visible at all until the brief video for "The Happiest Days Of Our Lives" on 'Volume 2' -- and they remain totally unseen again until "Learning To Fly" (by which point we are dealing with Pink Floyd Mk. III, which operated on an entirely different set of visual rules than Pink Floyd Mk II).

During this period of near-impenetrable anonymity, Pink Floyd hit their creative zenith in the visuals department -- a necessity in that the band had to come up with a way to adequately project their show to people sitting hundreds of feet away from the stage. Part of this new staging challenge was alleviated by the band's famed in-house quadraphonic sound system (which had been in use in one form or another for nearly a decade), but visually, this was a whole different ball game -- smoke bombs and flashing colored lights were nowhere near enough of a distraction to "fill" the vast stadia. Lighting wasn't going to solve the problem just yet, either -- VariLite technology was still years away, and the standard overhead lighting rig wasn't (at the time) a viable option.

To solve this problem, Pink Floyd resurrected one of the hallmarks of their earliest performances by once again using projected imagery to enhance the music and give those with distant seats something to look at. Unlike the Syd Barrett days, however, these images were not merely formless running oil blobs, but instead a series of eerie, surreal films (some animated, some live-action) that were rear-projected onto the band's new circular projection screen, which towered far above their otherwise embarrassingly-small stage. These new films (animated by Ian Eames, Gerald Scarfe, and, allegedly, Ralph Steadman), used in conjunction with a selection of bizarre inflatables that were hoisted high over the stage, not only stole the shows when they were used but became the band's public "face." Luckily for us, two of these groundbreaking films are shown during the course of 'Video Anthology Volume 2.'

As with 'Volume 1,' the video clips making a reappearance on the second half of the refurbished 'Video Anthology' tend to suffer a bit in comparison with what was made available on the original 'Anthology' / 'Rarities' compilation (as far as picture and sound quality are concerned). Again, the apparent generational loss of the previously seen material is made forgivable by the addition of new footage (nearly all of it dating from 1987 to 1994 in this case).

A last thought before we start in on the offered clips -- I never thought I'd ever say these words in this day and age, but thank Goat for MTV. Without the music channel's "Pink Floyd Weekend" promotion that ran in May of 1988 in support of the band's ongoing 'Momentary Lapse Of Reason' tour, many of the videos appearing in this collection would never have made it to the current collectors market in any kind of viewable quality (and in the case of "Welcome To The Machine" and "Brain Damage" in particular, would never have been seen by newer fans at all).

"Brain Damage / Eclipse" -- Primitive, a bit static, but still remarkably creepy by modern standards, this clip (which, going by the music, is seemingly running about a three quarters-speed) appears to be the original backing film shot for the band's 1974-75 tour. After trundling us off to surgery in the emergency room past a score of motionless surgeons, "Brain Damage / Eclipse" famously juxtaposes images of such political luminaries as Sir Edward Heath, Idi Amin, Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger against lots of exploding hi-fi equipment. We also are shown freshly minted copies of 'Dark Side Of The Moon' trundling down seemingly abandoned production lines, and (of course) the sun being eclipsed by the moooooooooonn, all watched by Roger Waters' (?) baleful eye.

"Welcome To The Machine" -- Without question the most striking piece of film ever utilized by the band, Gerald Scarfe's animation for "Welcome To The Machine" is the stuff that nightmares are made of. Marred only by a couple of "dead" areas in which the image seems to freeze for a minute or so at a time (the result of some editing by the band, apparently), "Machine" starts off in suitably ominous fashion as a gleaming metallic dinosaur lumbers slowly across a desolate wasteland and straight into our front laps. From there, we are shown glimpses of bleeding, featureless buildings, a pack of rat-like creatures scampering past a desiccated-looking corpse, and (most memorably) the graphic decapitation of some poor schlep by a distant howling baboon-thing. Moments later, a rising tide of blood comes forth and washes away more toy-like buildings, after which the waves of this frothing sea of gore change into thousands of waving arms, all of them straining to reach at a white monolith-like object. Said object then gradually rises up and away into the clouds -- joining up with the same metallic orb we saw just before the start of the clip (the true beginning of this sequence -- in which this silvery globe "blooms" in on itself a few times before irising open -- was screened separately by MTV). It shouldn't have to be said that this was a real mind-melter to watch during the band's 1987-88 shows. Absolutely brilliant.

"Pigs On The Wing (Part 1)" -- Coming down a bit from the amazing surreal high of "Welcome To The Machine," "Pigs On The Wing (Part 1)" brings us safely back to photo-reality (albeit with a Floydian twist). Comprised of film footage taken during the band's infamous 'Animals' cover art shoot (December 3-4, 1976), this very short clip starts with Mr. Pig making his debut at Battersea Power Station, followed by some views of the ol' porker afloat from various angles on the ground and in the air. Aside from a quick look at Mr. Pig whooshing off into the sky after his mooring breaks loose, there isn't a lot of truly exciting or mind bending footage to look at, here -- but it's a nice pleasant break from all of the anguished alienation surrounding it on this collection.

(Geek note -- there is a slight difference from the "Pigs On The Wing" clip shown on this set from the one on the original 'Anthology'/'Rarities' collection -- rather than starting with a collage of pig images (in concert and otherwise) as was the case originally, the updated film opens with a close-up shot of what appears to be an 'Animals' picture disc.)

"The Happiest Days Of Our Lives (Live)" -- A legion of hammers march past, just after we see the 'Wall' font PINK FLOYD logo emblazoned across the screen. Basically, the rest of this is live footage originating (I believe) from the band's Earls Court shows in 1981. There is a weird, stretched-quality to this clip that looks like a wide-angle film image squeezed to fit a television screen -- everyone looks taller and skinnier, with heads and faces looking a bit misshapen in the close-ups (which, tellingly, show everyone but Rick Wright). The audience is glimpsed here and there being swept with spotlights, but these are very dark shots indeed. Of course, just as we finally get some amazing quality shots of the stage with smoke billowing all over the place from some point later in the show, the song ends. Bugger!

"Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2)" -- Pink Floyd's first promotional entry into the age of rock video was, ominously, a real stinker. The current version of the story goes that as the single was beginning to break worldwide, a short film was quickly created under the guidance of Gerald Scarfe in order to promote the band's forthcoming 'Wall' tour (and to function as a kind of "surrogate performance" for the cities not on the itinerary). Shot on an obvious shoestring budget with a cast of appropriately dour youngsters in a darkened studio (with some other shots of the scamps walking somewhere and a bit of rough housing on a concrete playground), "Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2)" is fucking BORING to watch. Nothing really happens at all during the three minutes of screen time, though repeated clips of Scarfe animation (and Mr. Teacher being inflated and monkeyed around with in some back alleyway) try valiantly to eat up as much space as possible. Unfortunately, this is only a portent of things to come.

"Comfortably Numb (Live)" - Extracted from the widely circulated 'Wall' concert VOIO shot at Nassau Coliseum, "Comfortably Numb" is watchable, but VERY dark and occasionally indistinct. It's not like there is much to see during this song anyway -- Roger Waters, clad in a lab coat, has his back to the audience as he chats amiably with the wall, while a backlit David Gilmour does his singing and soloing thang from thirty feet up (and looks shockingly like Meat Loaf). A nice surprise, really, but a bit too static to qualify as "amazing."

Promotional trailer for 'Pink Floyd - The Wall' -- The intro to "Is There Anybody Out There" and a repeated loop sourced from "Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2)" set to a blizzard of images from the film. Even less interesting than it sounds, really.

"When The Tigers Broke Free" -- Sourced directly from various points in 'The Wall' film (though at the same time staying consistent with it's use in the movie), this clip manages to pack at least a modicum of emotional impact during it's second half, if nothing else. Seen the movie? Then you've seen this clip.

'The Final Cut' Video EP

By the summer of 1983, music video (as a genre unto itself) was turning the entire music business upside down and single-handedly re-writing the entire manual on how to make and break an artist. After nearly two years of playing whatever video clips they could get their mitts on (no matter how primitive the visuals or unknown the artist) in order to fill oceans of unsold air time, MTV was driving sales of such videogenic "new-wave" acts as Duran Duran, Eurythmics, Men At Work, and A Flock Of Seagulls through the roof, while a few previously-established rock bands were beginning to join in on the bonanza with expensive, concept-laden promotional videos of their own. Perhaps in an attempt to reassert their mastery of the visual performance medium (or at least to try and right their badly-listing current album), Pink Floyd took the unheard-of step of releasing a "Video EP" spotlighting four tracks from 'The Final Cut' strung together to form a kind of semi-coherent narrative.

Considering the fearsome reputation the band had already cultivated in the rock world (remember that this was coming off of the blockbuster success of 'The Wall'), Pink Floyd's first official entry into the MTV-era was heavily promoted by the channel, with "Not Now John" given a "world premiere" showing at the end of April, 1983. Aggressively playing-up their anti-image on a channel that was driven almost solely by image, the band was of course nowhere to be seen in their new, heavily-symbolic video -- the central dramatic character in the story was played instead by Alex McAvoy (the Teacher from 'The Wall' movie). As for the rest of the clips on the EP, the only glimpses of *anyone* from Pink Floyd came in the form of Roger Waters' near-motionless head shown in deep silhouette (save for his strategically-lit mouth, so he could at least lip-sync the lyrics).

If Waters was seeking to make an indelible impression on America with the 'Final Cut' Video EP, he most certainly succeeded. Amongst all of the brightly colored pretty boys and pretty girls of synthpop, these clips (all directed by Waters' then-brother-in-law, Willie Christie) were definitely standouts as far as execution and pacing were concerned ... but not exactly in the way they were intended.

Since MTV never opted to screen the 'Final Cut' videos in their intended running order (but instead as individual clips scattered randomly about their play list), many viewers watching these films found them at best to be pretentiously obtuse (or, at worst, irretrievably dull) as the point of the whole endeavor could only be barely discerned by watching them all in a row. Worse, these new videos were *anything* but groundbreaking in a visual sense. Forced to play catch-up with the rest of the pack, Pink Floyd made two crucial mistakes --

1. The pacing of the clips on an individually viewed basis was at total odds with the balance of videos being released at the time -- which as a whole were faster-paced and far more eye-catching. In comparison, the 'Final Cut' videos moved as slowly and ponderously as ocean liners.

2. Christie used *far* too many period video clichés in order to tell the story. Thus, rather than pushing the visual envelope (in a similar method as, say, Peter Gabriel, Michael Jackson, Planet P, Ultravox, or Bill Nelson) these films were instead highly derivative of too many other clips still in rotation on MTV's play list at the time -- the overwhelming use of black and white newsreel footage during "The Final Cut" in particular was Standard Operating Procedure for cost-cutting filler in those days, while the lunatics in the hall (and on the grass playing croquet) at "The Fletcher Memorial Home" could help but bring to mind Thomas Dolby's massively popular clip for "She Blinded Me With Science."

Speaking as someone who's first exposure to Pink Floyd in a visual sense was seeing these videos on MTV that summer, the only positive I can say about them from nineteen years later is that the band's carefully-cultivated mystique was definitely still in place. It's too bad that for many people (myself included), the end product nullified any curiosity that was aroused by these exceedingly remote and bizarre films.

"The Gunner's Dream" -- McAvoy is driving along a seemingly deserted freeway attempting to find something other than Pink Floyd on the radio and having little luck (OK, so he's actually flipping through news reports -- my interpretation was funnier). Anyway, McAvoy then passes under a bridge and imagines that he sees his dead son in full dress uniform staring into infinity. By the time McAvoy gets out of his car and looks up again, however, we see some slutty-looking chyk giving him the evil eye. Oh wait...that was his WIFE? Dude! Anyway, a few moments later (after reading the evening paper) McAvoy gets up from his couch at home, walks to the back of the house, opens a little bag in the laundry room, looks around craftily...reaches in...and...then...opens a beer! Ahhh, turns out that there is also a *gun* in that little bag of his ("ooh, maybe he's going to shoot his wife for looking like a scag in her younger years," we snigger to ourselves). Flash to Roger Waters' mouth singing, move around behind him and see him scratch his neck. Waters is seeing a psychiatrist named A. Parker-Marshall (o ho ho ho, subtle English wit!). Why is Roger seeing the psych? Why does Waters' face look like the surface of the Moon when viewed from the side? Why do we spend ten seconds watching someone walk past McAvoy's house? Discuss.

"The Final Cut" -- By default, this is the emotional high point of the four videos as this is the easily the best track on the entire album. McAvoy, watching ships return from the Falklands campaign (?), switches the channel and watches four minutes or so of black and white news clips dating from the 1920s to 1950s. After wading through boatloads of home front war footage for one reason or another, we see Roger Waters getting his head blown off by someone off screen. Wait. Maybe not. Anyway, A.Parker-Marshall seems to be more engrossed with whatever the hell he's watching on TV than with Waters. Ooh, the symbolism.

"Not Now John" -- I wish I could tell y'all what the fuck all of this is about. At least the other three videos in this series attempt to convey some kind of nebulous narrative, but whatever story that is being told gets sidetracked by this laughably bad "centerpiece" that takes place at a factory in the middle of slack-off heaven. Three geisha chyx (who look more like English models in whiteface than the real deal) and some Japanese youth in a rising sun t-shirt are seen walk around looking at things. A lot. McAvoy's wife (now de-aged back to her slut-ball younger incarnation) skulks about as well and seems to be checking out which factory employees use electric razors and which do not. There a lots of distant, lingering shots of nothing happening at all. For some reason, the boy in the rising sun t-shirt decides to commit suicide by jumping from a catwalk onto the floor directly in front of McAvoy (who seems as befuddled as we are as to what in the name of Goat is going on here).

"The Fletcher Memorial Home" -- The best-realized video of the four in a conceptual sense, "Fletcher" finds us at the fictitious funny farm of the same name, watching missile-brandishing Leopold Galtieri, Margaret Thatcher, and stogie-suckin' Winston Churchill talking shop on the lawn under the watchful eyes of some orderlies with Flock Of Seagulls haircuts (no, really). Hitler and Napoleon are apparently staying here as well -- the latter watches a toy snail crawl past, licks his lips, and holds up a little sign that reads "l'escargot" (even A. Parker-Marshall seems taken aback by this horrifically lame sight gag). In the middle of all of this, McAvoy arrives on the scene with his gun to kick some ass and take some names. It's still rather unclear if McAvoy decided to shoot Thatcher, Galtieri, or Galtieri's pet missile (lucky Churchill got to bow out with a V-sign before any of this happened), and it doesn't really matter anyway -- after a rather bleak shot of their slumped corpses being used as a croquet obstacle, we see the both of them miraculously alive and chatting with Hitler and Napoleon inside the Fletcher Memorial Home itself (in a scene which is the *only* true visual highlight of this entire damned project). Understandably perplexed, McAvoy then drives back home, picks up the paper, starts to read, and that's the end of the video.

Right-o.

Pink Floyd Mk. III

When a Roger Waters-free Pink Floyd returned to the marketplace in the fall of 1987 under the leadership of David Gilmour, the band's entire promotional strategy in regards to MTV was a complete about face (sorry) from the infinitely remote arms-distance relationship the band maintained with the media during the Waters era. The semi-conceptual promo video for "Learning To Fly" alone marked a sea change for the band in terms of image as the Gilmour and Co. were now quite visible at several points during the video, lip-syncing along to the music. In a rather delicious twist of fate (to everyone, that is, except Waters), Pink Floyd's near-total lack of recognizability during the Waters era was now cannily being worked to the advantage of Gilmour and his band mates -- to those who never knew better, *this* was Pink Floyd in the flesh, so to speak.

The three promotional clips that followed "Learning To Fly" (all of then from the 'Momentary Lapse Of Reason' album), however, were rooted exclusively in the realm of live performance (and all sourced from an aborted concert film shot in Atlanta in November of 1987 -- more on that later), with lingering close-ups on each band member erasing their anonymity forever. While this new image-intensive strategy worked promotional wonders for the band (MTV offered them virtually unlimited coverage for the better part of two years, while an increasingly bitter Waters was given hardly any air time at all), the videos themselves were perfunctory and often interchangeable with each other -- not exactly the kind of grandiose visuals many fans were expecting at all. Hell, compared to these live clips, even the 'Final Cut' Video EP looks pretty damned interesting after all.

"Learning To Fly" -- Sure, flying solo is supposedly a spiritual experience and all, but come ON, man. According to Vernon Fitch's 'Pink Floyd Encyclopedia,' this video is based on an ancient tale about an Indian who aspired to become a bird. Fair enough. How this story applies to the *other* two parties we see during this original edit of the video is a bit puzzling, however. Almost sickeningly literal at times (i.e., the kid's hands leaving his mothers as the line "I cannot escape this irresistible grasp" is heard. Barf), "Learning To Fly" is pretty squirm-inducing with all of it's little subplots fading back to shots of David Gilmour and company lip-syncing on their giant new stage set (which seems strangely overactive for this song if I recall my VOIOs right). Look low and fast and see David Gilmour playing guitar in a hole in the ground while one of the characters walks by. Neat, eh? There are lots of stranger sights to behold, including the dry cleaner guy doing a walking strip tease for us and an older Indian guy vogue-ing about on the runway while an airplane is taking off (a clear violation of FAA law). I'm not quite sure what's up with the dry-cleaning dude taking a plane up for a flight at the same time as a younger Indian guy runs off of a cliff at high speed and turns into an eagle (or plunges to a pulpy death on rocks below, we're never really sure) while the red-haired sprog doesn't actually *fly* but instead jumps into a fucking lake. Whatever.

"On The Turning Away (Live)" -- Recorded live at the Omni in Atlanta in 1987, sporting a few scattered additional images (in the form of a bunch of people walking somewhere, a burst of raging fire, and a cloudy sunset -- all seen by a staring eye), and boring as HELL. It's extremely difficult to reconcile my memories of *really* enjoying this song live while watching it plod along on the TV screen with all the excitement of, say, an excerpt from 'The Song Remains The Same' (minus the crotch-cam, thankfully). About the only instant in this clip that provides some visual entertainment is an amusing shot of David Gilmour making a "yeah! We're RAWKing!" face just before he launches into his ending guitar solo.

"The Dogs Of War (Live)" -- Also recorded live at the Atlanta Omni in 1987, "The Dogs Of War" is prefaced by an in-concert film showing dogs running around and fighting with each other, and then some more dogs (accompanied by soldiers) doing some additional running around. We then get to see tanks rolling through houses and breaking stuff, and some big fireballs shooting up from Pink Floyd's stage while sinister, siren-like red lights zing about. Perhaps inevitably, there is a brutally funny Scott Page saxophone solo, which the blond-mulleted wonder punctuates halfway through with a raised fist. Rawk on, Scotty.

"Signs Of Life (Live)" -- Another snip from Atlanta (starting to see a pattern here?), this is actually only the second half of the piece -- starting off from the instant Gilmour starts playing his guitar part (timing it to match the falling drops of water visible on Mr. Screen). While this happens, a dinky laser pierces the darkness above. Truly a slam-bang white-knuckle thrill ride above all others.

"One Slip (Live)" -- More Atlanta footage, but moderately less dull than the other songs that preface it here thanks to dozens of twirly Vari-Lites going apeshit in the background, Margaret Taylor and Rachel Fury shaking it for the camera, some agonizingly silly Guy Pratt "rawk-on!" faces, spinning "sheets" of lasers, and some ill-fitting cutaways to old black and white movie footage of people either holding on to spinning airplanes or being dragged around by cars (looks like the lessons of the 'Final Cut Video EP' were still unlearned at this point in time).

"On The Run (Live)" -- Yet another snip from the Atlanta 1987 show, this is the complete film for "On The Run" (not the original, "lost" version from the 1970's, but instead a rather silly piece of film shown during the 1987-89 tours (and again during the 'Dark Side Of The Moon'-endowed 1994 set lists). Hey, there is even a "plot" to this one -- studly Langley Iddens, nestled all snug in his bed, is evidently having some kind of hallucinatory episode in which he imagines his bed is zooming along through a busy airport before hurtling onto a runway and taking flight...and guess what? IT'S NOT AN EPISODE!! IT'S REALLY HAPPENING!! Look closely underneath Iddens' chin towards the end of the video -- it looks he's drooling all over himself at this point in the proceedings. The best bit of "On The Run" comes at the very end as we cut to a shot from the concert itself just in time to see the bed crashing into the stage and blowing up with a hilariously lame "WOOAHH! OH NO!! AAAAHHHH" scream dubbed in for effect. Ell Oh Ell, man.

"Run Like Hell (Live)" -- I'm pretty sure that everyone reading this has seen 'Pulse' (or at least 'Delicate Sound Of Thunder'), so therefore you all know the drill. While Gilmour does that "racketa-racketa-racketa" thing on his guitar, lasers bounce around all over the damned place until the bass kicks in, at which point all of the spotlights, VariLites, Floyd Droids, and whatever the hell else is handy (and, more importantly, motorized) gets into the act. Basically, this is no different from the rest of the Atlanta footage in quality (though there is a rather amusing bit of flirting going on between Gilmour and Rachel Fury...until a FloydDroid drops down between them and pretty much ends *that* tender moment). Interestingly enough, Mr. Screen does not (repeat: *not*) go boom boom at the end of the song. Discuss.

"Yet Another Movie / Round And Around (Live) -- Excerpted from the band's infamous Venice broadcast in the summer of 1989 (reviewed later on in this series). Stormy and intense, "Yet Another Movie" has long been one of my favorite later-era Pink Floyd songs, and it's inclusion on 'Anthology 2' is a welcome surprise -- especially since the fascist jerkweed who came up with the track selection for the 'Delicate Sound Of Thunder' video opted to leave this one on the cutting room floor (despite there being a picture of the light show used during this track on the back of that package). Enjoyable for the music alone, but (like the rest of the Venice footage), it's a little too dark and hazy to recommend in a visual sense.

"Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Live)" -- Sourced from MTV's coverage of the 1990 Knebworth Concert (to be reviewed on it's own later), "Shine On" gives us a very up-close look at the band from all angles as they gamely wind through their best known epic. The boys have certainly looked better -- it's hard not to notice that Richard Wright has very old-looking hands (I'm talking gnarly Senator Palpatine mitts, people), and poor David Gilmour gets progressively more bedraggled-looking as the song (and rainfall) winds ever onward. Thankfully, Dutch lite-jazz flavor of the month Candy Dulfer was on hand to deliver the climactic dual saxophone solos that sopping wet evening, rather than the unbelievably annoying Scott Page. Excellent quality on the video and audio front, but I have an issue or so with the inclusion of this song at this point in the video. Sure, this performance is a nice surprise, but it's also *way* out of place chronologically and thematically -- that evening's fiery rendition of "Sorrow" would have been far more appropriate here, IMO.

"Take It Back" - Non-threatening (and instantly forgettable) eye candy that apparently aimed to recast the lyrics of the song in an ecological context. Directed by the band's lighting designer Marc Brickman, "Take It Back" was the only promo clip shot expressly with the purpose of promoting 1994's 'The Division Bell' and is a return of sorts to the pre-'Momentary Lapse' era of Pink Floyd in that the band appears nowhere in the video. Instead (alongside some decent-quality computer animation), we get a series of pleasant green landscapes, spluttering volcanic craters, and glimpses of some gnarly old tree about to get chopped down by one of the members of Devo while the song pumps out anonymously from the speakers. For those into such things, according to Vernon Fitch's 'Pink Floyd Encyclopedia,' there are supposedly a few "secret messages" strewn throughout the clip (though I have not the slightest idea where or what they are or if they anything to do with that everfucking Engima).

"Keep Talking (Live)" -- Photographed during a cold and rainy 1994 concert appearance in Boston, "Keep Talking" is merely a live performance of the song captured by MTV (in keeping with a similar formula used on the 'Momentary Lapse Of Reason' era videos), though at least the monstrous light and laser show utilized on the 'Division Bell' tour makes this clip a little easier to sit through than, say, "On The Turning Away." For any twisted freaks out there that have always wanted to see what David Gilmour might look like while performing fellatio, that drawn-out talk box solo at the end of the song should adequately fulfill your sick puppy desires.

"High Hopes" -- As the clip for "Welcome To The Machine" proved, the best way for Pink Floyd to make a video for MTV is to merely ship 'em the same damn film they use during their concerts. It's no wonder, then, that "High Hopes" winds up as the best Pink Floyd "promotional-video" since "Machine" (despite that silly bit with the table tennis match). Crammed full of trademark Storm Thorgerson imagery, "High Hopes" is a pretty trippy (and occasionally emotional) viewing experience, and it's good points are many -- slo-mo shots of apples rolling down a cobblestone street, teddy bears the size of basketball players jumping from second floor windows, people flying strange-looking enormous kites on an airfield, gondolas and guitars floating downstream, a giant facade of Syd Barrett being carted around the countryside, and, of course, the Great White Balls Of Hope bouncing higgledy-piggledy around the countryside. Actually far better than it sounds.