My parents own 453 physical records, 156 on vinyl and 297 on CD. They span across a variety of artists, eras and genres. From classic blues to postmodern punk, from Portuguese fado to Dutch chanson. It’s an astonishing variety that speaks of my parent’s musical open-mindedness and blows my mind every time I really think about it. But there also are those bands and musicians that show up more than others among these hundreds of albums. And taking the number 1 spot with an astonishing 25 studio and live records is British prog rock band Pink Floyd.
The one we’re starting with is Meddle, the band’s sixth studio album, recorded and released in 1971, before the days of their international superstar status and the praise of Dark Side of the Moon or The Wall. It’s one from the days before Roger Water’s obsession with concept albums and musical coherence. And yet, there is an anticipation in it of those years to follow, some of the musical material explored already hinting at what’s to come as the band would grow more and more acclaimed. Meddle, in comparison to those later recordings is much more fun, more experimental, more humorous than probably any album teh band would release after. It possesses a good mixture of solid prog rock improvisation and shorter explorations of other genres and styles.
Two of these genre explorations can be heard on Seamus and San Tropez, the A side’s fourth and fifth songs. Especially the former has received generally negative reviews from many die-hard Pink Floyd fans as a silly gimmick. And that’s what it is, a silly gimmick – although I wouldn’t see that as a flaw at all. It’s a caricature of a classic blues song with picked guitars, a harmonica, rustling bass strings, a jittering piano and – a howling dog. Picture it recorded in a barn and you’ve completed the caricature. Yet it’s more than a silly joke: it’s the balance between the noise and the music that is so wonderfully unstable, almost forcing the music to duet with the animal, which reminds me of the lively recreation of farm noises on the Livery Stable Blues.
San Tropez is similarly witty, an unexpectedly unapologetic pop song, laid back with a nice strong bass, descriptive lyrics and the complete absence of any rock feeling. Standing alone, this would be quite a boring track, nice but too simple. It’s only the context of the band’s usual musical style that makes it intriguing, straying so far from the endless synthesiser feedbacks and David Gilmour’s guitar solos that turns this basic pop tune into a charming tongue-in-cheek commentary.
I personally think, One Of These Days is the best track on the record. It’s by no means unexpected, it’s immediately recognisable as Pink Floyd with its VCS 3 wind noises at the beginning, an ominously louring bass feedback and synthesisers flashing in and out of the sonic space. There’s that familiar drive, that urgency to move, that sense of direction. Gilmour’s guitar swoops in so nicely once the electronic wind noises fade away, boldly taking its place at the centre. Only one vocal line is featured in the piece, sung by drummer Nick Mason and slowed down to have his voice utter the line One of these days, I’m going to cut you into little pieces with a sinister growl. Musically, this is the darkest point of the song, speaking both in terms of register and mood, because after it, we build to the final crescendo: upper registers are added in the guitar solo, an increasingly pulsating and droning bass places itself at the basis, carrying all other sounds as the drive of the percussion urges the music onwards. Guilmour’s now brilliantly screeching guitar soars above it all, creating a great classic rock sound before the track returns to the windy noises of the VCS 3. It simply is a great rock opening for a great rock album.
One could write an entire review only about Echoes, the track that takes up the record’s entire B-side with a prog rock typical length of around 23 minutes. It’s verse-chorus structure bookends two amazing improvisational session, one heavily featuring synth noises exploring the swelling, floating, drifting, rising, and falling of electronic sound while the second session really allows Richard Wright to shine on the organ. As it mixes the traditional organ experience with a rhythmic percussion section and driving guitar riffs, something new and fresh is born. Overall, this track doesn’t feel like a 23 minute piece is maybe what I’m trying to say. At times, it even feels more like a sound poem than an album track, reminding me of Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself which equally weaves itself through a multiplicity of perspectives, taking the long way round the hidden paths of exploring new musical territory rather than going for the established, straight route. It’s an exploration of where the band wants go, what their musical future may hold and a Pink Floyd enthusiast will hear first glimpses of what the band will achieve with its following releases.
I am really happy that Meddle happened to be the first Pink Floyd album for me to review. Because, in my opinion, it’s comparatively accessible and humorous, making it a great starting point for the music of a band that has often been hailed as one of the greatest of all time – a praise that might put a lot of people off. It’s a wonderful starting point because it holds a lot of the musical talent yet to grow from Water’s obsession with lyrical themes and larger musical concepts. In a weird way it feels surprisingly carefree, a compilation of songs by a band that is trying out something new. Trying out what their sound is going to be now that they’ve found a strong fan base. And it is that level of wonder and play hidden beneath the layers of classic 1970s prog rock sound that makes Meddle a new favourite of mine.
Looking for a similar sense of humour mixed with simply great music? Listen to Self-Ish – Will Wood and the Tapeworms
The Dad Anthology 