A Farfisa organ in Pompeii 54 years ago recently harmonized the ruins of downtown San Jose.
In October of 1971, filmmaker Adrian Maben and the rock band Pink Floyd traveled to an empty amphitheater in Pompeii, Italy. The band—David Gilmour, Roger Waters, Nick Mason and Rick Wright—brought their touring equipment, along with stage lighting and an eight-track tape deck, to record themselves playing live in the amphitheater with no audience. The resulting film debuted in 1972.
With their album Meddle set to release and the band realizing the ’60s were now gone, the musicians were just starting to navigate the terrain that would become Dark Side of the Moon. At Pompeii, they were transitioning from something to something else, although they didn’t quite know what.
The psychedelic dimensions remained, as did the influence of musique concrète adventures of composers Edgard Varèse and Pierre Schaeffer. The concussive heat of Pompeii only added to the glory of a Farfisa Compact Duo, multiple effects rigs, a gong, screams and volcano footage, all of which created a gorgeous esoteric masterpiece far ahead of its time.
The film eventually became one of the most legendary concert films of all time, with numerous re-releases emerging over the next 50 years. Last week, a brand-new 4K digitally remastered version, now retitled Pink Floyd at Pompeii—MCMLXXII, debuted in cinemas all over the world, including the Tech Interactive’s super-huge IMAX theater.
Rock and Ruin
Rewatching that footage in that theater, there was no way for me to separate the ruins of Pompeii from the ruins currently surrounding the Tech Interactive itself. To the sounds of “Echoes” by Pink Floyd, I felt like space and time were shattering throughout the neighborhood.
The desolated concrete eyesore across the street, City View Plaza, still sat empty. The history was impossible to ignore. In 1971, right when Pink Floyd was transforming Pompeii into a performance venue, a young Lew Wolff was completing a huge San Jose project. In the ’60s, the San Jose Redevelopment Agency wiped out the whole neighborhood so Wolff could then build a sprawling monolithic campus of boxlike financial buildings.
After the ribbon cutting in 1972, the plaza was touted by politicians as the future of San Jose. Mercury-News reporters were smitten with giddy euphoria, claiming that San Jose was now finally a real city.
Now the current real estate developer is set to smash parts of the plaza again, so it’s been empty for several years. There is every reason to suggest that whatever emerges on that block will only get destroyed once more in another 40 years.
Last week, demolition was underway on one particular piece of the plaza, although I was across the street, inside the theater watching David Gilmour of Pink Floyd take a tone bar to his black Fender Strat while Rick Wright wailed on the Farfisa and Nick Mason attacked his drum set, all in the empty Pompeii amphitheater. A great scene. Once again, I just couldn’t separate the two—the ruins of Pompeii and the ruins of San Jose.
Empty Space
Likewise, right as Floyd bassist Roger Waters screamed into the microphone during “Careful With That Ax, Eugene,” juxtaposed with scenes of molten lava flow, I felt like screaming at the empty weed-infested lot behind the Tech Interactive, the former Parkside Hall, which was destroyed over a year ago. The color scheme of the vacant lot was eerily similar to that of the abandoned Pompeii amphitheater—weeds, gravel and dirt.
Speaking of amphitheaters, even before the Tech Interactive existed, that corner—Park and Market—was a grassy knoll area descending like a pseudo-amphitheater to a sculptural fountain near the entrance of the old ’70s convention center, the same building that became Parkside Hall, before it was destroyed.
For concert films of its time, Pompeii had no equal. Pink Floyd were years ahead of the game, unlike San Jose, which just destroys and creates the same blocks over and over again, while rarely progressing. Thankfully, as I left the theater, Pink Floyd remained in my head. I was no longer depressed by the surrounding wreckage.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If Italy can transform its ruins into musical venues, why can’t San Jose?
