Everyone who has not lived under a rock for the past four decades knows of Pink Floyd. It is easy to do research on the band, as the standard history of the group can be found in a thousand places on the web and elsewhere. Rather than regurgitate the same stale information, I decided to share some personal thoughts and experiences about the band and their music.
In the spring of 1973, Pink Floyd released Dark Side of the Moon…
…that “legendary” release that broke the band into a worldwide sphere of popularity that has not subsided one iota in the many years that followed.
Upon the initial listen, we knew everything was over. By we, I mean that group of listeners who discovered Pink Floyd in the years prior to the release of Dark Side. Before that album was released, many of us attempted to share their music with anyone willing to listen. Mostly, we would only hear taunts of laughter, followed by the usual trite questions. “WHO???” and “Which one is Floyd?” were the most common.
Yeah, yeah.
The old fans following PF in those days breathed a sigh, not of relief, but of exasperation, when the album came out. We knew, in a brief moment, the band we had listened to for as many as six years was gone. In its place was a new entity, utilizing their well-earned studio smarts to create a form of spacey pop/rock which, although immensely popular, fizzled when compared to the creativity and drive demonstrated on albums like UMMAGUMMA. Many of us considered that album to be their magnum opus. Unfortunately, for many of us it remains as such. It was a sad day.
I had discovered the band in the spring of 1970 when I saw UMMAGUMMA on sale as a Specially Priced Two Record Set, and decided to take a chance and purchase it based upon some overheard whisperings and other word of mouth. What a buy it turned out to be. I listened to it for weeks at a time, trying to absorb every note and nuance. After a while, I added other releases into my collection, including Atom Heart Mother and Saucerful of Secrets. Atom Heart Mother got a bit of a reaction in our home one Sunday morning when my headphone jack popped out and the middle section came roaring through the speakers. Ooops.
As time went on, I became curious as to whether the band ever toured the States. There was no internet in those days, and the only way to hear of upcoming concerts was by radio or a print ad in the Village Voice. It was a while before I had the dollars needed to see them live. When the opportunity came and the notice appeared in the Voice, I was able to jump at the chance.
It was the live record of UMMAGUMMA that caused me and my friend
Peter Migliorini to run, not walk, to Carnegie Hall to get tickets for one of the upcoming shows. We could only imagine what it must have been like to be in the audience and hear music like that. We were laughing on the subway all the way home, just thinking about the show and how we had to wait another month. It was common in those days for tickets to go on sale 30 days in advance of the performance. No Ticketron or Ticketmaster either; if you wanted seats, you went right to the venue’s box office. In fact, there was many a night that some of us slept outside of Madison Square Garden before tickets to a show went on sale the following morning. The smell of beer, cannabis and urine was pretty much standard, but the kids for the most part were more than OK, and there was rarely a problem of any kind. I never slept outside of Carnegie Hall for tickets, and don’t know anyone who did. Many bands playing there did not have a fan base of the size that caused you to take the step of sleeping on the sidewalk until the ticket office opened, and sure enough, we got our tickets with no difficulty.
As it turned out, there was no need to run – more than a few empty seats revealed themselves at the venue that night. At best, I would say the hall was at 85% capacity. The particular show I am referring to took place around November of 1971.
The hall was truly electric with anticipation that night, more so than most any show I had attended to that point. And this was only my second show at Carnegie Hall, the first being a Savoy Brown concert with Wishbone Ash as the opening act. Pete and I were sitting in about the 10th row in the right hand section facing the stage, just off the aisle. Richard Wright and his “joystick” were clearly present on that side of the stage.
The band did two sets of approximately 1 ½ hours each, the first set being their more “straight” set, the second a space opera of cosmic proportions, which included Echoes, A Saucerful of Secrets, Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun and Careful with that Axe, Eugene. With Meddle being the new record at the time, Echoes was the piece my friend Peter and I were not familiar with. He had just purchased the album the day prior to the concert, and I had yet to buy it or hear it in full.
Sitting on top of his keyboards,
Wright’s joystick was employed to make the music travel around the hall in a 180 degree arc, emanating from speakers around the hall facing the stage. The stick was rather large, almost as though he were driving a boat. In an aural sense, maybe he was. He used it skillfully, at one point highlighting the steps of a person walking from door to door, and opening a door at various points in the arc. At the final point, you hear a person running exasperatingly to the last door, which, when opened, revealed the ever increasing volume of an oncoming train. When you heard the door suddenly slam shut in panic, the next tune began. Impeccable timing.
I do not remember what they did for an encore that night, but it was memorable in its own way, as Pete and I left happy and stoned on the music. (Neither one of were smokers.) We spoke of the show for weeks afterwards, wondering if the band would return to NYC anytime soon.
Before we knew it, the group was back the following May, but this time I found myself unable to attend. The reasons for this escape my memory. (Another missed opportunity… sigh.)
About a month or so after the 1972 shows in New York, the band released Obscured by Clouds. I accidentally discovered a copy at a local department store, not knowing it had been released. I bought it immediately. This was a soundtrack album to the film of the same name – a film I’ve yet to see. In 1969 the group had released another soundtrack to the film More. Both soundtracks were panned by the critics.
In the case of More, the criticism is unjustified. Much like Forrest Gump’s proverbial “box of chocolates,” the album contains a mix of styles and ideas that gave an edge to the record and made it stand out. Some critics called it “patchwork” or “uneven.”
This is nonsense. There are a host of great tunes on that record, including Cymbaline, and Green is the Colour. Cirrus Minor is also a standout, and the instrumental themes work very well for creating mood as well as representing “tension” in a film. Ibiza Bar is a work of early space metal that no doubt inspired Hawkwind for years to come. If you listen to the tune, then read of that counterculture enclave at any point in the future, you will hear David Gilmore’s metal chords in your head forever afterwards. And to think this was in 1969.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgH4ZVukIB0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=daKRz2w4D44
More is an overlooked gem well worth owning, and stands on its own as an exemplary piece of late ‘60s psychedelia. Fans of the early (and even later) PF will more than likely enjoy it thoroughly if they choose to forget the critics and their tacit, self-serving claims of omniscience in all matters regarding music.
In looking back over the band’s discography, it becomes clear to this listener their best days occurred very early on. Even if one is a fan of Dark Side of the Moon and the releases subsequent to that, how far does their best work extend? Though fans of Dark Side are legion, even the most diehard of apologists will admit The Wall (1979) was their last serious effort to even attempt to make a claim at breaking new ground.
If you are among those who have not heard the early, pre Dark Side records, you can really do yourself a kindness and listen to them in chronological order.
Piper at the Gates of Dawn was their first offering, and it features a heavy dose of Syd Barrett. He was the de facto leader of the group at the time, and this album is distinct among all of their recordings, although not just for Barrett’s influence. Technology being what it was in 1967, the ability to reach the heights of space was not yet within their grasp. However, this is psychedelic music with some hard, sharp edges to it (see Astronomy Domine, Interstellar Overdrive,) and those qualities remain after all of the years. I wonder how many guys tried to impress their girlfriend by playing this in the background while attempting to get to first base. Not a good idea.
A Saucerful of Secrets followed in 1968, and Gilmour makes his first appearance. Barrett makes a contribution, but the boys began to extend for the nether reaches of space here, especially on the title track. A few of their most underrated tunes are here as well, which include See Saw and Remember a Day. Let There Be More Light is still a riveting opening track. One of my older brothers bought this album for me as a birthday present back in the day. When he saw the cover, he asked: “Are you sure you want this?” Oh, yeah.
The soundtrack to More was next. No more Syd Barrett and Gilmour is in to stay. Maybe this is why it has a bit of that search party flavor the critics dislike so much. As previously discussed, I hope you give it a chance.
UMMAGUMMA (1969) was next to arrive, a 2 LP set, one live and one in the studio. The best versions of Saucerful of Secrets and Set the Controls are here. The studio sides feature each of the band, but be careful here: Wright’s feature, Sysyphus, Parts I – IV, can scare the gonads off of a dragon if played alone and at night. Gilmour’s piece, The Narrow Way Parts I – III, is one of the great works of psychedelic space guitar. The segue from guitar to voice in part II to III is studio artistry at its best. I still play it as part of my own ten hour, Psychedelia playlist on iTunes. Only the best for that list, and it only grows incrementally as the years go by.
In 1970, Atom Heart Mother arrived on the scene during the early autumn. Side one of the original LP was taken up by the 23 minute suite in six parts. Writing credits are to the band and Ron Geesin, whose eclectic and multifarious career has taken him to many a universe yet to be discovered by many, including those around at the time who were claiming enlightenment in all things related to music. (No names please.) One of the Roger Waters compositions on UMMAGUMMA has Geesin’s influence all over it, that being Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict. Looking back, it seems natural for Geesin to have lent a hand on Atom Heart Mother as he and Waters worked together on a littleknown film soundtrack prior to recording of AHM. With the band having recorded two soundtracks in the early part of their career, it seemed apropos for Waters to have done a bit of solo work in this area, hence the meeting with Geesin. The film whose soundtrack they worked on was called The Body.
For those interested in knowing more about Ron Geesin’s music, here is a link to his website:
It is that influence, one suspects, that makes the suite a difficult listen for some. Listening to it now, nearly 42 years after its initial release, it hardly seems so difficult to comprehend. Granted, there is a section which tends towards the atonal/dissonant, but this section begins after the fifteen minute mark and has its own mysteries contained within.
A full listen on my latest system makes clear this section is more than slightly reminiscent of Tangerine Dream circa the period of Alpha Centauri. But which came first? Atom Heart Mother was released in October of 1970 by all accounts, and Alpha Centauri was recorded in January of 1971. (This date is not definitive.) It is not possible to know who inspired whom, but it is clear to this listener that both groups were listening to each other. This makes the Atom Heart Mother Suite all the more interesting, and I will be devoting more time to listening to it in the future, as well as investigating its influences and origins. It seems not enough has been done in this regard, and I suspect there are some interesting things to uncover.
All in all, the entire suite appears, as a whole, to be more of a psychedelic theme ride, as opposed to a trip with a definite destination.
The second side of the LP contains four pieces, the first three being marvelous tunes of varying simplicity. IF was written by Roger Waters, sung and played on acoustic guitar in a style later listeners to the group will immediately recognize. Summer of ’68, written by Richard Wright, is a hidden gem of keyboard based psychedelic pop that will bring you back for repeated listens. Fat Old Sun is a David Gilmour piece, and it starts with church bells ringing in the distance, and ends with a guitar feature that fades into non remembrance. Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast closes out the album, and inserts musical jams between the sound effects of “Alan” making and mumbling over his morning breakfast. Overall, Atom Heart Mother is a wonderful listen if you give it a bit of time to grow on you. Repeated listens bring their own reward here.
The CD copy I listened to for these notes was released in the mid 1980’s, and although it is clean and punchy compared to the LP, could use a new mastering job. This was done in 2011 for Floyd’s entire catalog, so I plan to update this page after hearing them.
Meddle arrived in 1971. I really like this one, as the band stretched out on side two with Echoes, while the first side contained a few more laid back items such as Fearless. One of These Days received a lot of airplay at the time, and it opens the album with a good pace. The boys do better on the rest of the album. There are those fans who consider Meddle to be their best work. While I am not in agreement, it is placed into my CD player every few months. It has held up well over the years.
Discussions, debates and diatribes aside, Pink Floyd created an oeuvre of early recordings which remains unmatched by contemporaries and followers alike. Where the line between greatness and mediocrity begins and ends in their work will be decided by individual listeners for decades to come. And that is the key: listen, and decide for yourself.
In Memory of Richard Wright (July 28, 1943 – September 15, 2008)
Richard Wright – 1971
Richard Wright – 2008
Rest In Peace
jazzmanblue
NYC July 7, 2012