This has got a couple of plays at funerals up 'ere, as, too soon, survivors of the sixties pass from amongst us, possibly because they didn't take enough care of themselves, then or since, and possibly just lousy luck, the Grim Reaper being the cold-hearted old bastard he is.
You may feel that this is a plodding, pompous, over-lengthy portentous piece of 70s indulgence, or that it's a magnificent lament, at a kind of slow march tempo. It does brilliantly for the entry procession that Charles over on the Good Funeral Guide feels, quite rightly, should be revitalised.
By the time this came out, I wasn't much into big rock, but now I think it's a terrific funeral track, even if the departed was not a big star. Pink Floyd say it's about Syd Barret. For us, and with respect to the band and their lost founder, I don't think that matters. I think it's for every individual each of us sees as a diamond, shining out against the indifferent blackness of death, lighting up our lives before they depart.
"O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces...."
My musical moods change with the winds, but just today, it seems to me goose-flesh, tears and beauty. Shine on.