Pink Floyd, a name synonymous with sonic innovation and conceptual brilliance, reshaped the landscape of rock music. While Led Zeppelin ascended vertically into hard rock’s stratosphere, Pink Floyd expanded the genre horizontally, creating a vast and immersive musical universe. From sprawling double albums to side-long epics, their songs were not just compositions; they were journeys. Their musical palette was extraordinarily diverse, ranging from the whimsical psychedelia of their early days to the profound depths of their later works.
Starting with their debut album, Piper at the Gates of Dawn (1967), guided by Syd Barrett’s kaleidoscopic vision, Pink Floyd demonstrated an unparalleled artistic flexibility and inventive spirit. This adaptability, however, is often overlooked in an era that sometimes perceives them as overly serious rock traditionalists. Yet, to truly appreciate Pink Floyd is to delve into their remarkable capacity to blend genres, experiment with sound, and craft music that is both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant.
Yes, The Dark Side of the Moon established the gold standard for stoner rock in college dorms, with its mesmerizing progressive soundscapes. But within this iconic album lie surprises: a proto-EDM instrumental track that quickens the pulse, a soul-stirring vocal performance filled with raw emotion, and saxophone solos that truly soar. Similarly, Wish You Were Here might be perceived as dominated by its extended, jazzy art-funk explorations and introspective themes, but at its heart is one of rock history’s most deeply moving and human ballads.
Even when faced with the punk revolution of 1977, often seen as a reaction against bands like Pink Floyd, a closer listen reveals unexpected parallels. Comparing Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols with Animals reveals a shared raw, unfiltered frustration with societal norms and expectations. And while The Wall was indeed a monumental, operatic double album exploring themes of ego and isolation, it also subtly integrated disco rhythms in a way that was groundbreaking for a major rock band, resulting in a chart-topping hit that defied genre boundaries.
As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of their debut album, it’s time to explore and rank the 50 Best Pink Floyd Songs. This list will traverse their expansive discography, from their most progressive and psychedelic experiments to their most accessible and pop-infused tracks, highlighting the mini-masterpieces that embody all these facets and more. Let’s shine a light on these sonic innovators and celebrate their enduring legacy.
50. “On the Run” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
“On the Run” is a sonic marvel, a track that felt decades ahead of its time. This instrumental piece is essentially interstellar chase music, a precursor to the electronic soundtracks of films like TRON. Imagine “Flight of the Bumblebee” reimagined by electronic music pioneer Giorgio Moroder, and you begin to grasp its innovative nature. While not a traditional “song,” “On the Run” is a pivotal moment on The Dark Side of the Moon. Its pioneering use of synthesizers and sound effects undoubtedly expanded the sonic horizons for countless listeners in the early 1970s, opening doors to new realms of musical possibility.
49. “One of My Turns” (The Wall, 1979)
Roger Waters’ raw, visceral scream in “One of My Turns” is a defining moment on The Wall. While his angst-ridden vocals might have become somewhat overused by the time of his departure from Pink Floyd, here, it’s genuinely unsettling and powerful. As it erupts amidst the track’s initially subdued atmosphere (“Would you like to learn to fly?/ WOULD YA LIKE TO SEE ME TRY??”), it captures the raw nerve of Pink’s unraveling psyche. This track serves as a stark and unforgettable illustration of the album’s themes of isolation and mental fragmentation.
48. “Double O Bo” (The Early Years 1965-’72, 2016)
“Double O Bo,” unearthed from the vaults and officially released decades after its 1965 recording, showcases Pink Floyd’s early, playful side. This track is a quirky tribute to Bo Diddley, reimagining the blues legend as a suave, super-agent with a penchant for self-destruction through drink. Built upon a distorted Diddley beat, the song is a humorous anomaly in Pink Floyd’s often serious discography. It’s a reminder of a time when the band embraced a lighter, more tongue-in-cheek approach, a spirit that, in retrospect, could have offered a welcome contrast to their later, more intensely introspective work.
47. “The Gunner’s Dream” (The Final Cut, 1983)
“The Gunner’s Dream” stands out on The Final Cut as a moment of genuine emotional resonance amidst the album’s somber landscape. The Final Cut, deeply rooted in Roger Waters’ personal reflections and wartime anxieties, demands a significant emotional investment from the listener. However, “The Gunner’s Dream” rewards this investment. It’s a majestic, Spector-esque ballad, imbued with a Springsteen-like sense of scale and urgency, underscored by poignant saxophone melodies. The lyrics poignantly depict a gunner’s fleeting vision of peace (“You can relax on both sides of the tracks”) in the moments before his plane crashes, creating a powerful and tragic vignette.
46. “Take It Back” (The Division Bell, 1994)
“Take It Back,” the lead single from The Division Bell, is a compelling track that subtly nods to guitar styles pioneered by both U2’s The Edge and Pink Floyd’s own David Gilmour. The shimmering, echoing guitar textures recall Gilmour’s work on “Run Like Hell” from The Wall, yet also resonate with The Edge’s signature sound. Released during U2’s experimental Zooropa era, “Take It Back” reclaims this atmospheric guitar style, making it distinctly Floydian once again. Gilmour’s vocals, reminiscent of Bono in their passionate delivery, further enhance the song’s epic feel, as he sings of temptation, lost faith, and impending danger, blending personal struggle with grand, sweeping emotions.
45. “Vegetable Man” (The Early Years, 1965-1972, 2016)
“Vegetable Man,” another gem unearthed from Pink Floyd’s early period, offers a glimpse into the disintegrating psyche of Syd Barrett. Recorded during a period of intense personal struggle for Barrett, “Vegetable Man” is a descent into near-total delirium. It’s a stomping, directionless garage-rock track, a chaotic blend of social satire and a desperate cry for help. The song’s identity becomes increasingly fragmented as it progresses, mirroring Barrett’s own fracturing mental state. Despite remaining unreleased for nearly half a century, its legend grew through bootlegs, inspiring covers by underground bands like The Soft Boys and The Jesus and Mary Chain, testaments to its enduring, unsettling power.
44. “Nobody Home” (The Wall, 1979)
“Nobody Home” offers a rare moment of tenderness within the bleak narrative of The Wall. This ballad portrays Pink, the rock star anti-hero, succumbing to isolation and madness in his opulent surroundings. Alone with his possessions, he yearns for human connection, his loneliness amplified by the superficial distractions around him. The twinkling piano accompaniment creates a poignant backdrop for Waters-as-Pink’s lament, “I’ve got 13 channels of s–t on the TV to choose from,” a line that poignantly dates the song while underscoring the timeless nature of isolation in the face of modern media.
43. “Not Now John” (The Final Cut, 1983)
“Not Now John” injects a much-needed jolt of energy into the latter half of The Final Cut. While drawing parallels to “Young Lust” in its gritty rock style and Gilmour’s guitar work (the solo even begins similarly), “Not Now John” stands on its own. The sheer relief of hearing Gilmour’s voice amidst the album’s predominantly Waters-dominated vocals gives the track an unexpected urgency. Gilmour’s raw growl and the song’s directness provide a welcome contrast to the surrounding introspection. It also delivers what is arguably the most effective use of profanity in Pink Floyd’s discography, with the shouted line: “Oi! Wheres’ the f–king bar, John??” adding a touch of dark humor and frustrated energy.
42. “Paintbox” (B-side, 1967)
“Paintbox,” the B-side to “Apples and Oranges,” the last single written by Syd Barrett, is arguably the superior track. Penned and sung by keyboardist Rick Wright, “Paintbox” is a perfectly crafted psych-pop gem, melodically rich and creatively imaginative. Its quality is such that it would not have been out of place on The Zombies’ masterpiece Odessey and Oracle. Wright’s lyrics, “I feel as if I’m remembering this scene before/ I open the door to an empty room, then I forget,” are eerily prescient, foreshadowing the conceptual themes of memory, loss, and isolation that would dominate Pink Floyd’s 1970s concept albums.
41. “Wot’s… Uh the Deal” (Obscured By Clouds, 1972)
Pink Floyd’s transition period between psychedelic experimentation and future-rock ambition produced some underrated gems, particularly during their acoustic rock phase. “Wot’s… Uh the Deal,” from the often-overlooked Obscured By Clouds, is a prime example. It’s a beautifully relaxed, mid-tempo acoustic strummer that presents a more casual, sun-drenched version of Pink Floyd. This track hints at an alternate reality where Pink Floyd could have comfortably graced festivals like Classic East, showcasing their versatility and melodic depth, even if it’s not the path they ultimately chose.
40. “A Saucerful of Secrets” (Live) (Ummagumma, 1969)
“A Saucerful of Secrets,” especially in its extended live version from Ummagumma, is a journey in sonic exploration. It takes patience – over seven minutes – to truly take flight, but for late-1960s Pink Floyd, this was part of the experience. This 13-minute live rendition of the Saucerful of Secrets title track, from the experimental Ummagumma double album, is a masterclass in instrumental build-up and psychedelic intensity. The instrumental’s final quarter is nothing short of sonic sorcery, capable of creating a spellbinding atmosphere, imagining a stadium illuminated by gothic candles swaying to its otherworldly sounds.
39. “Any Colour You Like” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
“Any Colour You Like” is Rick Wright’s moment to shine on The Dark Side of the Moon. This instrumental piece is driven by Wright’s shimmering synth textures, which take center stage, creating the most captivating sections of the track. Gilmour’s guitar weaves in and out, adding its own distinctive voice between Wright’s synth explorations. Like “On the Run,” it’s not a fully formed song in the traditional sense, but it’s crucial connective tissue within the album. It undeniably proves the necessity of a laser show to fully complement the immersive experience of The Dark Side of the Moon.
38. “Lucifer Sam” (Piper At the Gates of Dawn, 1967)
“Lucifer Sam” is Pink Floyd’s take on stereophonic spy music, a tense and alluring track from their early psychedelic period. It’s about Syd Barrett’s Siamese cat, considered by Barrett to be the coolest cat he knew. “That cat’s something I can’t explain!” Barrett exclaims in the refrain, abruptly halting the song’s momentum, a sentiment any cat owner can instantly recognize. The song’s quirky lyrics and driving, slightly menacing instrumental create a captivating and unique listening experience.
37. “Cymbaline” (More, 1969)
“Cymbaline” is a hauntingly beautiful song about a nightmare. Set against a backdrop of sweet-sounding Farfisa organ, lush bass lines, and gentle bongos, Gilmour’s vocals deliver unsettling imagery: “The ravens all are closing in/ And there’s nowhere you can hide.” The song then reveals the true source of dread: “Your manager and agent are both busy on the phone/ Selling coloured photographs to magazines back home.” This lyric subtly critiques the encroaching machinery of the music industry, foreshadowing the themes of “Welcome to the Machine” and the band’s later explorations of fame and its pitfalls.
36. “Mother” (The Wall, 1979)
“Mother,” a moderately melodramatic power ballad from The Wall, became an unexpected classic rock radio staple, despite its somewhat unsettling themes. It’s a song that, ironically, often finds its way onto Mother’s Day playlists, despite its complex and somewhat sarcastic portrayal of maternal relationships. While some lines lean into caricature (“Mama’s gonna wait up until you get in/ Mama will always find out where you’ve been”), the core emotional weight lies in Pink’s questioning: “Mother will she break my heart?” (and in the film, “Mother, am I really dying?”). This highlights the vulnerable, scared-child aspect of Waters’ persona, a source of genuine and raw emotion within the grand theatricality of The Wall.
35. “Welcome to the Machine” (Wish You Were Here, 1975)
“Welcome to the Machine” is a challenging yet essential Pink Floyd track. It’s often criticized as being overly dramatic, particularly by those who dismiss the band as catering to teenage angst. However, to dismiss it is to ignore its groundbreaking sonic landscape. The song’s power lies in its sound design: bass that pulsates like physical pain, acoustic chords that pierce like ice, and synthesizers that explode like laser fireworks. “Welcome to the Machine” is a potent reminder that sometimes embracing that inner, easily-impressed teenager and engaging in a bit of anti-establishment rage is a necessary and cathartic experience.
34. “High Hopes” (The Division Bell, 1994)
The Division Bell is an album that deserves a reassessment, and “High Hopes” is its crowning achievement. The album is curiously structured, front-loading less immediately impactful tracks before unleashing its strongest material in the latter half. “High Hopes” arrives at the very end, following the outro of “Lost for Words,” with its clanging church bells giving way to the somber piano of “High Hopes.” This dolorous epic is perhaps closer in tone to “Silent Lucidity” than “Comfortably Numb,” but it captures the cinematic grandeur of classic Floyd more effectively than any song since The Wall. It’s a reflective, poignant conclusion to the album and a high point in Pink Floyd’s later work.
33. “Pigs (Three Different Ones)” (Animals, 1977)
“Pigs (Three Different Ones)” is an ambitious, sprawling track from Animals. At over 11 minutes, it might stretch its ideas a bit thin, taking a while to move beyond the “Ha-ha, charade you are!” refrain. However, it’s a worthy successor to the slop-funk groove of “Have a Cigar” from the previous album. It also holds the distinction of being the Pink Floyd song that most effectively utilizes the quintessential 70s instrument: the cowbell. Roger Waters’ contemporary live performances of the song, often incorporating Donald Trump imagery, demonstrate its continued relevance as a biting social commentary.
32. “Speak to Me” / “Breathe” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
The opening sequence of The Dark Side of the Moon is a masterclass in album construction. “Speak to Me” acts as a sonic overture, a teaser trailer for the album’s key sonic and thematic elements – the cash registers of “Money,” the manic laughter of “Brain Damage.” “Breathe” follows seamlessly, its sighing guitar slides establishing the album’s core atmosphere: a blend of Neil Young-esque introspection and otherworldly spaciousness. Gilmour’s opening advice, “Don’t be afraid to care,” is both simple and profound, words that the band would later either disregard or embrace to extremes, depending on one’s interpretation of their subsequent career.
31. “Is There Anybody Out There?” (The Wall, 1979)
“Is There Anybody Out There?” could have easily been mere plot exposition within The Wall, but it transcends its narrative function to become one of the album’s most haunting and beautiful tracks. Exemplary production and heart-rending arrangements elevate it to a standout moment. Synths and sirens swirl ominously around Waters’ panicked repetition of the title phrase – the song’s only lyrics – creating a powerfully evocative, post-apocalyptic atmosphere. The subsequent plucked acoustics and weeping strings provide an unexpected and deeply moving sensitivity, making it a transitional piece that is more rewarding than the song it leads into.
30. “Arnold Layne” (Single, 1967)
“Arnold Layne,” Pink Floyd’s debut A-side, is a quirky character study that defied easy categorization. It was too eccentric, too musically unpredictable to be mistaken for the Kinks or other contemporary pop acts. While it might have been difficult to predict from this single that its creators would go on to global superstardom, by the time it reached its iconic closing couplet – “Arnold Layne/ Don’t do it a-gain!” – it was clear that Pink Floyd was a band with something truly unique to offer. It established their early penchant for the unusual and their ability to craft catchy yet unconventional songs.
29. “Brain Damage” / “Eclipse” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
The concluding suite of Dark Side of the Moon, “Brain Damage” / “Eclipse,” brings the album to a poignant and thought-provoking close. “Brain Damage” opens with a guitar phrase subtly adapted from The Beatles’ “Dear Prudence,” suggesting a sense of reconciliation with their former leader, Syd Barrett. The lyrics wink at Syd’s madness (“And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes”) while acknowledging a shared vulnerability (“I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon”). However, the album’s grand scheme is playfully undercut at the very end of “Eclipse” by a recording of their doorman, who matter-of-factly states: “There is no dark side of the moon, really. Matter of fact, it’s all dark.” This final, almost mundane statement adds a layer of irony and realism to the album’s vast cosmic themes.
28. “In the Flesh?” (The Wall, 1979)
Despite not becoming one of The Wall‘s most widely recognized tracks, “In the Flesh?” is the perfect opening salvo for the album. It’s a theatrical, almost operatic kickoff, with Waters-as-Pink essentially directing the performance, shouting stage cues as the album’s grand production unfolds. Gilmour’s soaring guitar riffs and Wright’s luminous organ chords provide the necessary musical grandeur. By the song’s conclusion, the sonic imagery of dive-bombers, crying babies, and a silently screaming audience creates a powerful and unsettling atmosphere, setting the stage for the epic narrative to follow.
27. “Free Four” (Obscured By Clouds, 1972)
“Free Four” is Pink Floyd’s unexpected foray into glam-rock territory. While Pink Floyd didn’t overtly align with the glam rock explosion of the early 1970s, “Free Four” from Obscured By Clouds borrows elements of Electric Warrior-era T. Rex – jaunty handclaps and a hip-swaying boogie rhythm. However, it’s unmistakably Floydian, featuring a searing Gilmour mini-solo, Waters’ gently ominous vocals (“You are the angel of death!“), and synth bombs punctuating each line, courtesy of Wright. It’s a uniquely quirky and undeniably likeable track, representing one of Pink Floyd’s most purely enjoyable moments from the 1970s.
26. “Astronomy Domine” (Piper at the Gates of Dawn, 1967)
It’s fitting that the opening track of Pink Floyd’s debut album, “Astronomy Domine,” begins with their manager reading planet names through a megaphone. What follows is a sonic explosion of zooming guitars, Morse code-like synths, driving drums, and disembodied vocals. While Pink Floyd would evolve and refine their sound for mass appeal, “Astronomy Domine” contains the essential ingredients of their future success. It’s a bold, experimental track that showcased their innovative spirit from the very beginning, even if they didn’t often return to explicitly space-themed lyrics in later years.
25. “Echoes” (Meddle, 1971)
“Echoes,” the epic closer of Meddle, marks a pivotal moment in Pink Floyd’s evolution. While not their first extended composition, “Echoes” feels like a breakthrough. It’s the first time they created a central musical motif – the haunting, proto-Phantom of the Opera riff – strong enough to sustain a piece of music exceeding ten minutes. They paired this with a compelling ambient breakdown section, the now-iconic “whale sounds” middle section, which is captivating enough to hold attention until the main theme returns. While its 23-plus minutes might test the listener’s patience, “Echoes” comes remarkably close to captivating throughout, demonstrating a band on the cusp of a truly limitless creative period.
24. “Goodbye Blue Sky” (The Wall, 1979)
“Goodbye Blue Sky” is a brief but deeply moving Blitz ballad from The Wall. It features some of the most delicate acoustic guitar work and ethereal harmonies in Pink Floyd’s catalog. The serenity of the main refrain is chillingly contrasted by creeping synths and shell-shocked lyrics (“Did-did-did you see the falling bombs?“) in the verses. While the outro melody bears a resemblance to The Rolling Stones’ “Ruby Tuesday,” “Goodbye Blue Sky” stands as a unique and powerful piece in its own right, later influencing Def Leppard’s “Hysteria” with its main riff, demonstrating its lasting impact.
23. “Dogs” (Animals, 1977)
“Dogs,” the 17-minute centerpiece of Animals, is an ambitious and complex composition. It features lyrics that blend Call of the Wild with Wolf of Wall Street, exploring themes of survival and ruthless ambition. The track is packed with extended guitar harmonies, heart-racing acoustic sections, and multiple tempo changes, punctuated by the titular barking sounds. While it sounds like a demanding listen, “Dogs” is surprisingly engaging. Its distinct sections are individually compelling and transition seamlessly, maintaining listener interest throughout its length, marked by memorable lyrical checkpoints delivered by both Waters and Gilmour.
22. “The Nile Song” (More, 1969)
“The Nile Song” is as close to pure heavy metal as Pink Floyd ever ventured. It’s a scorching rave-up, so intensely distorted that you can almost feel the acid dripping from the guitars. The production is raw and fuzzy, a stark contrast to the pristine sonic landscapes of A Momentary Lapse of Reason that would come decades later. While heavy rock wasn’t Pink Floyd’s primary strength, “The Nile Song” makes a surprisingly persuasive case for their potential as rivals to bands like Blue Cheer or early The Who. It makes one wonder what might have been if Gilmour and Mason had been given more opportunities to unleash their inner Roger Daltrey and Keith Moon.
21. “The Great Gig in the Sky” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
“The Great Gig in the Sky” is arguably an interlude, being entirely wordless except for the sampled spoken-word intro: “I am not frightened of dying.” Yet, it remains one of the most iconic and emotionally resonant tracks on Dark Side of the Moon. This is thanks in large part to Rick Wright’s sublime piano riff and Clare Torry’s breathtaking, non-verbal vocal performance. Despite achieving classic rock immortality through her solo, the recording session was famously awkward. Waters recounted in 2003, “Clare came into the studio one day, and we said, ‘There’s no lyrics. It’s about dying – have a bit of a sing on that, girl.’” The result, however, is a timeless masterpiece of vocal improvisation and emotional power.
20. “Have a Cigar” (Wish You Were Here, 1975)
“Have a Cigar” is the quintessential mid-tempo Pink Floyd groove, a sleazy, quasi-funk track that perfectly sets the stage for its cynical lyrics. The song critiques the empty promises and self-serving ignorance of music industry executives, embodied by the song’s narrator, portrayed with delicious vulgarity by guest vocalist Roy Harper. No matter how many times you’ve heard it, the sonic whoosh near the end remains startling. It sonically transports the band – mid-Gilmour guitar solo – into a tinny FM radio, trapping them within the dial, a potent metaphor for their perceived confinement within the industry in the mid-1970s.
19. “Hey You” (The Wall, 1979)
“Hey You” opens side three of The Wall, proving that Pink Floyd had ample creative fuel to sustain a double album of compelling material. It doesn’t explode with immediate energy; its intro, a slithering mix of acoustic guitar and fretless bass (played by Status Quo’s Andy Bown), is among the band’s most unsettling. However, as Waters’ vocals rise an octave in the third verse, “Hey You” reveals itself as a powerful ballad, raising the emotional stakes for the album’s second half and setting the tone for the bitter isolation and emptiness that follows.
18. “Fearless” (Meddle, 1971)
“Fearless” is Pink Floyd’s finest early acoustic track, a blissful, mid-tempo saunter reminiscent of a more ethereal Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere or a less sentimental Led Zeppelin III. The divine groove is inexplicably yet memorably punctuated by a field recording of Liverpool F.C. fans singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” This unexpected outro makes the song instantly unforgettable, an early example of Pink Floyd’s ability to keep their songs surprising until the very last second, a technique they would master in the following decade.
17. “Bike” (Piper at the Gates of Dawn, 1967)
“Bike” is the song from Piper at the Gates of Dawn that often leaves the most lasting impression. The childlike absurdity of its verses – disregarding meter, rhyming erratically, and devoting a verse to a “good mouse” named Gerald – creates a disarming contrast with the almost-coherent refrain: “You’re the kind of girl that fits into my world/ I’ll give you everything, anything, if you want things.” It then dissolves into a chaotic cacophony of percussive scrapes and manic laughter. Like Syd Barrett himself, it’s near total anarchy, yet with a core of something genuine that continues to fascinate and intrigue listeners fifty years later.
16. “Money” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
“Money” is undeniably unsubtle. Gilmour literally shouts “MO-NEY!” at the start of each verse, and the cash register sound effect is anything but nuanced. However, subtlety isn’t the aim here. “Money” boasts a bass riff so funky that the unusual 7/4 time signature is easily overlooked, and a saxophone solo that shreds with more intensity than many guitar solos. Its bluntness is precisely what made “Money” Pink Floyd’s first crossover hit in the US, and its sing-along chorus provides a welcome moment of accessibility amidst the atmospheric abstractions of Dark Side of the Moon‘s midsection.
15. “Careful With That Axe, Eugene” (Live) (Ummagumma, 1969)
“Careful With That Axe, Eugene,” particularly in its live Ummagumma version, is a textbook acid-rock freakout. It’s far more effective in its extended live form than as the B-side to the forgettable “Point Me at the Sky.” The initial three minutes of eerie falsetto vocals, menacing organ chords, and subtly plodding bass are crucial to the build-up. Waters’ whispered title phrase acts as a chilling omen, preceding the song’s explosive release with his primal scream – a sonic signature that would become a hallmark of the band in the decade to come. Somewhere, a young Alan Vega was undoubtedly taking notes, influenced by its raw intensity.
14. “Learning to Fly” (A Momentary Lapse of Reason, 1987)
After years of internal legal battles that left Pink Floyd fractured, “Learning to Fly” emerged as a beacon of renewed creativity. By the time of A Momentary Lapse of Reason, Gilmour may have been more invested in his aviation hobby than his music career, which perhaps explains why “Learning to Fly,” with its themes of soaring and freedom, is the album’s standout track. With its panoramic production, soaring guitar hook, and uplifting chorus, “Learning to Fly” became Pink Floyd’s only true MTV-era hit, accompanied by a stunning music video. More importantly, it served as a powerful counter-argument to Roger Waters’ assertion that Pink Floyd’s creative DNA resided solely with him after his departure in the mid-1980s.
13. “Sheep” (Animals, 1977)
“Sheep” is the thrilling ten-minute climax of Animals. With its driving organs, pulsing bass, and portentous vocals (“You better watch out! There may be DOGS about!”), it evokes an image of Pink Floyd as an evil Steely Dan, particularly during the unsettling “bad dream” synth breakdown in its midsection. However, the song surges back to life with an unexpectedly triumphant close, a chiming guitar riff that suggests either the vanquishing of oppressive forces (“Have you heard the news? The DOGS are dead!”) or a weary resignation to their continued dominance.
12. “Young Lust” (The Wall, 1979)
“Young Lust”‘s blistering 4/4 strut, erupting mid-verse from “Empty Spaces,” is a testament to its raw power. It’s remarkable that Waters and Gilmour – perhaps the last people you’d expect to coo “Ooooh, I need a dirty woman/ I need a dirty girl” – make “Young Lust” genuinely sexy. It’s a roaring expression of pent-up desire, conveying a sense of frantic horniness that is both visceral and unsettling. Foreigner, masters of arena rock anthems, must have felt a pang of jealousy upon first hearing its potent blend of rock swagger and suggestive lyrics.
11. “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” (Parts I-V) (Wish You Were Here, 1975)
Regardless of the veracity of the apocryphal tale of Syd Barrett’s unexpected studio visit during the recording of “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” there’s undeniably a trace of Syd’s magic within this epic tribute to his fractured genius. “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” the sprawling opener of Wish You Were Here, shimmers with majesty in every synth twinkle and guitar echo. The lyrics, alternating between despair and wry humor (“You reached for the secret too soon/ You cried for the moon”), seem to conjure Barrett’s eccentric spirit, even as the production achieves a pristine clarity that his chaotic approach would never have allowed.
10. “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun” (A Saucerful of Secrets, 1968)
“Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun” represents a symbolic passing of the torch from the Syd Barrett era to the David Gilmour era of Pink Floyd. It’s a chillingly beautiful transition, glowing with a neon-green aura. “Controls” is unique as the only Pink Floyd song to feature all five canonical band members. It strikes a remarkable balance between Barrett’s improvisational, heat-vision jamming and the meticulously controlled sonic textures of the band’s later work. Unlike many of their extended pieces, “Controls” never truly explodes; instead, it simmers with a hypnotic intensity, creating an atmosphere unmatched in their discography, both before and since.
9. “Time” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
“Time” is perhaps the cruelest trick Pink Floyd ever played on their stoner fanbase. Just as Dark Side of the Moon seems to settle into its early mellow groove, the jarring alarm clock intro of “Time” shatters the tranquility. Engineer Alan Parsons’ quadrophonic sound experiments are responsible for this sonic jolt, but the band rises to the challenge, delivering some of their finest work. The lyrics, reflecting Roger Waters’ quarter-life crisis, are some of his most insightful. Gilmour’s wailing guitar solo is iconic, and the reprise of album opener “Breathe” at the song’s close, cleverly following the line “The time is gone the song is over/ I thought I’d something more to say?…”, adds a layer of poignant self-reflection.
8. “See Emily Play” (Single, 1967)
“See Emily Play” was Pink Floyd’s breakthrough hit in their native UK. It’s a perfectly crafted piece of psych-pop, featuring sighing guitar slides, lush production, an expertly constructed chorus, and a more accessible melody and song structure than much of Barrett’s other work. Syd himself, however, considered it too poppy and famously resisted its release and promotion (“John Lennon doesn’t do Top of the Pops!”). It would be years before the band would release anything quite as flawlessly crafted again, with or without Barrett. This makes “See Emily Play” a timeless standard of psych-pop, brilliant, precious, and utterly transportive.
7. “Another Brick in the Wall” (Pt. 2) (The Wall, 1979)
“Another Brick in the Wall (Pt. 2)” became an unlikely chart-topper on both sides of the Atlantic. Its success, however, is less surprising when considering its potent combination of arena-rock muscle, punk attitude, and, crucially, disco propulsion. This blend made it a sledgehammer powerful enough to break down walls, both literal and metaphorical. Initially, the band resisted its pop potential, but producer Bob Ezrin, dragging Dave Gilmour to discos and secretly recording a children’s choir, sculpted it into a single as riotous as “School’s Out” and as club-ready as “Miss You.” Even Gilmour begrudgingly admitted in 1999, “It doesn’t, in the end, not sound like Pink Floyd.” True indeed, it became a defining anthem for generations, soundtracking youthful rebellion decades later.
6. “One of These Days” (Meddle, 1971)
“One of These Days” is the true starting gun for 1970s Pink Floyd. It’s a spectral voyage into the uncharted territories of art-rock, almost entirely instrumental, save for drummer Nick Mason’s heavily distorted bellow: “One of these days I’m going to cut you into little pieces.” A heavily delayed, single-note bass riff shouldn’t be sufficient to build such a mighty track, but Pink Floyd’s studio ingenuity proves otherwise. They surround this anti-hook with sweeping wind effects, growling guitars, otherworldly organs, driving drums, and reversed percussion, creating a sonic threat as potent as Mason’s garbled threat. It’s a masterclass in sonic texture and tension, paving the way for their decade of art-rock dominance.
5. “Interstellar Overdrive” (Piper at the Gates of Dawn, 1967)
While Pink Floyd’s supposed outer-space obsession might be overstated, when their debut album features tracks as phenomenal as “Astronomy Domine” and “Interstellar Overdrive,” it’s understandable why the association persists. “Interstellar Overdrive” is the instrumental opus of the Syd Barrett era, a near-ten-minute expansion of Barrett’s grungiest riff. It features a mind-melting mid-song breakdown of meowing guitars and chirping organs, which then hisses back to life with a stereo-panning riff reprise. Only The Velvet Underground’s “Sister Ray” achieved such sonic darkness and depth in 1967. The fact that Pink Floyd achieved such stratospheric success while never straying too far from this experimental, instrumental core is a testament to their collective genius.
4. “Comfortably Numb” (The Wall, 1979)
“Comfortably Numb” represents Pink Floyd at their classic rock apex. It’s an absolutely towering power ballad, where both “power” and “ballad” feel inadequate to fully capture its immense presence. “Comfortably Numb” is iconic from its opening line and flawlessly executes both subtle details (the “pinprick” sound effect) and grand gestures (Gilmour’s GOAT-contending closing guitar solo). It endures as one of the most recognizable songs of its era, despite never achieving significant chart success. While perhaps not as genre-bending as some of their other signature moments, it ensures Pink Floyd’s continued presence on classic rock radio for as long as the format exists.
3. “Us and Them” (The Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
“Us and Them” is the crown jewel of Dark Side of the Moon. It’s a slow-burning sway, built around a softly flaring Gilmour guitar riff and radiant Hammond organ chords from Wright. It’s undeniably a Pink Floyd song, with militaristic lyrics, a surging chorus, and a spoken-word sample from a roadie (“Well I mean, they’re not gonna kill ya, so like, if you give ’em a quick short, sharp shock… they won’t do it again”). However, it stands out because it’s one of the few Pink Floyd songs imaginable being covered by a wide range of artists. Perhaps it’s the What’s Going On?-esque saxophone that appears at precisely the right moments, or the universality of its opening lines, but “Us and Them” connects on a level closer to soul than prog, giving Dark Side of the Moon a beating heart to complement its intellectual ambition.
2. “Run Like Hell” (The Wall, 1979)
It’s somewhat surprising that no one prior to Pink Floyd thought to combine the rhythmic drive of Chic with the instrumental prowess of Rush. However, Pink Floyd did, and the result was “Run Like Hell,” a highlight of side four of The Wall. Like “Young Lust” and “Another Brick in the Wall,” it’s rooted in the steady pulse of disco, but unlike those tracks, it remains primarily guitar-driven, with Gilmour’s galloping, chiming six-strings taking center stage. It’s arguably the most anthemic, chest-beating song Pink Floyd ever created, but also one of their most unsettling. Dramatic tonal shifts precede Waters-as-Pink’s overtly fascistic verses, and Waters delivers some of his most stomach-churning, guttural wails (“If they catch you in the backseat trying to pick her locks/ They’re gonna send you back to mother in a cardboard box!“). Unlike “Us and Them,” “Run Like Hell” is almost unimaginable by any other band, making it a testament to Pink Floyd’s singular and often unsettling genius.
1. “Wish You Were Here” (Wish You Were Here, 1975)
It might seem unconventional to crown a relatively straightforward ballad as the greatest achievement of one of progressive rock’s giants. It’s akin to placing “Patience” atop a Guns N’ Roses best-of list. However, to be Pink Floyd is to imbue even a seemingly simple lighter-waver like “Wish You Were Here” with layers of subtle production and structural depth. Consider the radio static from which the opening riff emerges – a thematic echo from the preceding “Have a Cigar” outro – and the way the acoustic guitar solo lands on top with such comparative clarity, every finger-on-strings nuance audible, making it heart-piercing from the first note. Notice the bleating synths that subtly reinforce the melodic refrain between the first verse and chorus. Despite being one of rock’s most legendary sing-alongs – so iconic that even Fred Durst knows the words – the chorus appears only once in the entire song.
“Wish You Were Here” resonates unlike any other song in Pink Floyd’s catalog because it masterfully blends clever, unobtrusive innovation with profound emotional accessibility. While packed with subtle sonic details, the song’s emotional core remains as direct and relatable as a Lynyrd Skynyrd classic. It’s about Syd Barrett, of course – though he might have disliked the lack of bongos and feedback freakouts – but its themes of absence, connection, and longing are universal. Even with its sky-scraping chorus, its impact is maximized by its rare appearance, returning to a riff that resonates with anyone who has ever picked up an acoustic guitar. “Wish You Were Here” subtly incorporates anti-authoritarian messaging in its verses, but its ultimate message is one of human connection, emphasizing the need for friends, family, and loved ones as a source of strength and resilience. It’s a composition and production of unparalleled beauty from the 1970s, destined to endure long after the last Dark Side of the Moon poster fades from a college dorm room wall.
Jimmy Bufett performing live in 1977, related to music artists and influences
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