Published July 11, 2003, on Spin.com

The Machine
B.B. King Blues Club & Grill
New York
June 28, 2003

Concert review by Matthew Webber

Pink Floyd released its seminal ode to lunar eclipses and lunatics, Dark Side of the Moon, 30 years ago. That’s about a decade before most fans at a recent show by the Machine, an East Coast-based Pink Floyd tribute band, were born. Most attendees didn't appear old enough to have seen The Wall in theatres or to remember when former Floyd frontman Roger Waters and guitarist Dave Gilmour were on speaking terms. Some of the male members of the audience didn't appear old enough to shave. But when the houselights went out and the shrill alarm clocks on Pink Floyd’s Dark Side classic "Time" rang out, adults and youngsters alike looked ready to party like it was 1979.

The Machine look nothing like Pink Floyd, but that doesn't matter -- the group sounds exactly like Pink Floyd, and that's what counts. With his scruffy beard and his Technicolor stocking cap, the lead singer/guitarist looked a cross between Elliott Smith and Badly Drawn Boy, but his voice was completely Syd Barrett's, Roger Waters', or Dave Gilmour's, depending on which former Floyd frontman he was channeling at the moment. The guitar, bass, drums, and keyboard pealed, pounded, and pinged like they do on the original recordings. The Machine -- and Pink Floyd, probably more than you remember -- could moonlight as a jam band, their songs stretching out to the horizon and back again, almost snapping at times with unresolved tension.

Although "Time" was the first song in the Machine's three-hour (!) set, it wasn't the last to inspire Bic-waving and fist-pumping (and, to be fair, some yawning and checking of watches). The Machine played everything in the Floyd catalog a hardcore fan could want: "Another Brick in the Wall," of course; the Syd Barrett gem "Astronomy Domine"; the twenty-minute epic "Echoes"; a Dave Gilmour track or two; and the set-closer, "Brain Damage/Eclipse.” For some fans, it was overkill, and the audience dwindled with every passing song. Many left during intermission. But the fans who remained for the encore were treated to a faithful rendition of Animals, played in its entirety.

The Machine might know Pink Floyd’s catalog better than even Waters knows it nowadays, as they rocked Floyd’s non-singles as frequently as the hits. Every time it seemed the Machine had played what was surely the last song of the evening, they strummed another chord. Every time, the fans who lingered whooped in recognition. One woman even fainted -- perhaps hearing forgotten Meddle nuggets like "One of These Days" and "Fearless" activated a latent reserve of particularly bubonic chronic.

For one kid in a tie-dyed Jerry Garcia jersey (complete with matching headband), the entire show was a call to arms; like a stoned conductor, he waved his arms in time with the rhythms. Surely not everyone in the audience was hitting their peace pipes, but enough of them were toking to confirm a certain stereotype. Some of the night's loudest cheers followed the lead singer's changing of seemingly benign lyrics to D.A.R.E-unfriendly mottos. ("It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire" became "It’s good to smoke a bowl beside the fire.”)

Of course, not everyone in the audience was born post-Final Cut. Rockers with grey-streaked mullets stood side by side with day traders wearing Dockers and Steve Maddens. One such middle-aged gentleman, tall, gaunt, and mustachioed, danced with his young son. For most of the show, the youngster covered his ears and clung to his daddy like a fabric softener sheet, although once I saw him pump his little fist. At this all ages show, the songs of Pink Floyd proved timeless.