by Thomas Marinelli ’26 on April 16, 2026
A&E - Music
I’m sure that at some point, everyone has seen the iconic prism refracting a beam of light into a rainbow on an all-black square and wondered what it is or where it came from. It probably wasn’t until middle school that I learned it was an album from the band Pink Floyd, and it probably wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I actually listened to one of the supposed best albums of all time all the way through. It was then, however, that I realized why The Dark Side of the Moon (1973) is so iconic and how it managed to feed generations of music listeners in one 10-song, 43-minute magnum opus of a project—something I genuinely cannot praise enough without sounding like a broken record.
After seeing that astronauts have recently taken new images of the dark side of Earth’s moon, I think there’s no better excuse to give this album a listen—preferably with no distractions, noise-canceling headphones, and something comfortable to rest on. It’s an experience a lot of people today haven’t had, or don’t even know about. From there, you can finally say you know music, but until then, I don’t think you really can make that claim. Just like never listening to Abbey Road (1969) or Thriller (1982) is almost a missed rite of passage, The Dark Side of the Moon should be no exception.
Getting into the music, the record wasn’t designed to be picked apart song by song—it was meant to be listened to in its entirety. That might not make sense at first, but once it starts, it’s hard to stop. The first track, “Speak to Me,” sets up everything that follows: airplanes, a beating heart, distant screams—sounds that echo throughout the album—before melting into “Breathe.” “Breathe” is, right off the bat, a classic, thanks mostly to David Gilmour’s pedal steel guitar, which gives the song its signature drifting atmosphere.
All of this is intentional, as each song transitions seamlessly into the next, while also shifting themes, moving from anxiety to calm, then back to pressure again, and even touching on the band’s past. As “Breathe” fades, “On the Run” immediately kicks in, bringing back a sense of paranoia with its fully instrumental, almost mechanical sound. It’s probably the most skippable track in my opinion, but it sets up what comes next.
“Time” is the star of the album, and my personal favorite. Written by Roger Waters, the band’s primary lyricist and creative force, and backed by Gilmour’s guitar, Richard Wright on keys, and Nick Mason on drums, it feels like one of the most collaborative and seamless tracks the band ever made. It also shows off the legendary engineering of Alan Parsons at Abbey Road Studios, and the cherry on top: Gilmour’s unforgettable guitar solo.
“The Great Gig in the Sky” is another generational track, one many people have probably heard without even realizing it, mainly because of Clare Torry’s incredible vocal performance in an otherwise mostly instrumental piece. “Money,” which follows, is a Waters masterclass. A song that is a satirical take on greed and consumerism, one of the album’s central themes, and also one of its biggest hits, helped by yet another sharp Gilmour solo.
Then comes “Us and Them,” which might be one of the most emotional tracks on the album. Wright’s composition, paired with Waters’ lyrics, creates something both heavy and beautiful, touching on conflict and war, and it leads into the more psychedelic stretch of “Any Colour You Like.”
The final two tracks, “Brain Damage” and “Eclipse,” act as perfect bookends. They bring the album together, reflecting on the human experience as a whole, while also pulling from the story of former bandmate Syd Barrett and the band’s struggles that followed. And just like that, 43 minutes later, the album ends with the same beating heart it began with—closing the loop in a way that feels like a full lifetime.
How popular was it? Extremely. When it was released in 1973, it went on to spend an incredible 988 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart, something that still feels almost impossible. It also became one of the top five highest-selling albums of all time, with over 45 million copies sold, alongside records like Rumours (1977), Back in Black (1980), and Thriller.
There’s no question that The Dark Side of the Moon was revolutionary in its time, and still is. It really is a trip, an experience completely separate from anything else. Where it might feel pretentious to some, it’s deeply emotional to others. Where it feels heavy, it’s balanced with calm, flowing tracks to ease the sound. It’s an album made for everyone, and somehow still a snapshot of its time that continues to echo today.
An article doesn’t really do it justice for me, but that’s where I leave it—to the listeners. Just try it. It’s beautiful, and it might just put you on another planet and blow your mind.