Love and Let Die: James Bond, The Beatles, and the British Psyche

by John Higgs

The Wall can be criticised as rock-star navel-gazing, in which a self-obsessed isolated individual blames his descent into fascism on other people and events, such as the death of his father during the Second World War. In its favour, it is a scathing, brutally honest insider’s account of how a person can start out with the best intentions only to surrender their humanity before the glamour of success. As Waters details his mental descent, he shows what it is like when fame and wealth elevate a person above others, making them isolated and afraid. They become unable to meet others as equals because people always want things from them, be that money or the reflected glow of their celebrity. Drugs and alcohol appear to mask this disconnect, but in reality, they exaggerate it – cocaine in particular acts as fascism in powdered form. It erodes empathy and keeps the focus on the ever-hardening ego. Becoming a rock star offers money, luxuries and a lack of responsibility that all but the strongest cannot help but covet. The readily available drugs and casual sex keep the musician cocooned in an adolescent world they never want to leave. So what if this costs a person their ability to connect to other human beings? Rock stars, on the face of it, got a lot more for their soul than Faust did.