Arnold Layne/Candy And A Currant Bun
And now, with Steve's permission, the first of two tasters, before the main course on Saturday.
Formed in London in early 1965 by an unlikely group of art and architecture students, The Pink Floyd spent the next two years (and several name changes) building up a reputation as the biggest and brightest band on the burgeoning London underground scene. Residents at the legendary Marquee and UFO clubs, ex-Cambridge residents Roger Keith 'Syd' Barrett (lead guitar, vocals) and Roger Waters (bass, vocals), along with Londoners Richard Wright (organ, vocals) and Nick Mason (drums) wowed the freaks, the fashionable and the famous with their lengthy, spaced-out improvisations and mind-bending psychedelic light shows, night after tripped-out night. After forming Blackhill Enterprises in October 1966, a six-way partnership with managers Peter Jenner and Andrew King, The Pink Floyd were soon ready to enter the recording studio for the first time. On 11th and 12th January, at Sound Techniques Ltd. in London, under the guidance of renowned producer Joe Boyd and engineer John Wood, the band recorded two of their more structured jams: Interstellar Overdrive and a new piece which was entitled Nick's Boogie. Neither of these recordings would see the light of day in their entirety for nearly 25 years (these two tracks will thus be covered in due course), although excerpts of Interstellar Overdrive would appear in Tonite Let's All Make Love In London, Peter Whitehead's documentary film of the underground scene, released in December 1967.
As The Pink Floyd's popularity grew, record companies were soon clamouring for their signature, and it was EMI who eventually captured the band in January 1967. However, despite being known for endless instrumental workouts, it was still common practice for all pop groups at that time to release singles, and Pink Floyd were no exception to the requirement to produce hits. Although Interstellar Overdrive was briefly considered as an unlikely debut single, EMI eventually turned to two Syd Barrett compositions which the band had recorded with Boyd at Sound Techniques on 29 January: Arnold Layne and Candy And A Currant Bun. With Barrett's tale of a Cambridge underwear thief on the A-side, the record was released by EMI's subsidiary Columbia label in March, with plenty of publicity in the music papers, a rather bizarre promo film, an extremely rare 'picture'-sleeved promo disc (now fetching nearly ?5,000 in some quarters, this is undoubtedly the rarest, most sought-after Pink Floyd record) and some reported 'financial help' aiding the disc's climb to a respectable - if unspectacular - number 20 in the British singles charts.
Although a ban by the normally free-thinking Radio London (they objected to the questionable subject matter of the lyrics) and a debut appearance on BBC-TV's premier music show, Top Of The Pops (now missing from the BBC archives, rather unsurprisingly) did little to help sales, there was no question that The Pink Floyd had well and truly arrived on the British music scene, and Arnold Layne would eventually be regarded as one of the most innovative and influential singles of the era.
ARNOLD LAYNE (Syd Barrett) 2.52
The Beatles' first wasn't exactly great, The Stones' possibly even less so; The Who's and The Small Faces' were pretty good, to be fair, while The Kinks' is now all but forgotten; however, for a British rock act of the 1960?s not normally remembered for their hits, Pink Floyd's debut single is nothing short of a classic. Right from the start, the track sounds way ahead of its time, with Barrett's jangly guitar and unusual, nasally vocals, backed by a solid bass line from Waters, conjuring a sound unlike anything else of that period. It's a curiously upbeat number (especially considering the Floyd's later material) which hides a dark subject matter, its lyrics concerning the titular character?s penchant for stealing ladies' underwear from washing lines and his ultimate fate - unchartered territory for a British pop single, even in 1967. Although not particularly 'psychedelic', the echo-y drums during the bridge are almost obligatory, while Richard Wright produces the first of his trademark 'Turkish Delight' organ solos during the instrumental. The production might now be termed somewhat 'lo-fi', but it's a wonderful piece of work from Joe Boyd (probably better known for his folk rock productions) who effortlessly manages to capture the spirit and integrity of Pink Floyd while giving the band a new commercial flavour. Arnold Layne is a supreme slice of psychedelia, a record which has seen its reputation grow and grow over the years, to the point at which it still influences countless guitar bands to this day.
CANDY AND A CURRANT BUN (Syd Barrett) 2.38
If Arnold Layne was controversial, then its trippy, harder-edged B-side was possibly even more so. Originally titled Let's Roll Another One, there are no prizes for guessing what this little number's all about: a heady mix of sex and drugs and rock 'n' roll, its lyrics are almost impenetrable at times (what does Syd sing in that first bridge? "Please just f*** with me"!? Outrageous!) while the pounding drums and the changes in rhythm present an uneasy counterpoint to the flipside. Wright produces a near identical keyboard lick, and it's already evident - surprisingly so, maybe - that he and Barrett are the major musical forces in the group at this point. Candy And A Currant Bun is a strange brew, but it's an extremely listenable track, and a criminally overlooked piece of The Pink Floyd's early history.
And don't forget...this is me SOBER.
I can give you memories of this album. It must have been around 1990 I got it on tape. It was part of the "Fame" reissues and for some reason, Bike ended side one and Take Up Thy Stethoscope finished off the album. It was sometime before I heard as it was intended.
Good one to have playing in the background whilst doing the dishes!
Astronomy Domine still sounded (and still sounds) like nothing else I'd ever heard.
Lucifer Sam is the second most dated musically. A sort of Danger Man-ish spy soundtrack tune with lyrics that would have Soviet spies having nervous breakdowns trying to figure out the meaning.
Matilda Mother is probably responsible for most pisstakes of psychedic songs.
It's only Syd who sounds like he actually means it, but the solo takes an unexpected turn that would make the producers of PlaySchool shift in their chairs and say "Er..."
And Flaming (confession time. I hate Marc Bolan. I think T-Rex just suck so badly and Bolan stole Barrett's act.) is hardcore trippy in the solo. But even though I found the lyrics charming at the time, nowadays I'm demanding more substance! Although the "I can youuu" always made me think of an overgrown childish man suddenly pulling a knife on his nanny.
Pow R. Toc H Meaat! Like nothing else on the album. The pictures it conjures up. Cute furry animals on an alien planet going about their daily lives, when suddenly they are shelled and hunted down by mechanical cold iron thingys! One lone alien survives near the end and slowly rushes to the cage to release the prisoners... and they start screaming at the rescuer to look behind them as a droning percussive monster creeps up to crush the last survivor...
Oh I did a lot of acid in 1998, didn't I mention that?
Take Up Thy Stethoscope And Walk. This is the one that really dates the album, but what a learning curve for Roger Waters! Still have a soft spot for it though. Always the "go for a piss" part of the record.
Intersteller Overdrive First heard it on Relics which I got before this album. The closest thing the album gets to their UFO light show which provoked much hostility whenever they played outside London. (As hit and miss as punk was, at least it wasn't a London-centric movement. "Oh we were changing the world... there was a real sense of change..." Yeah, in London.)
On a council estate full of government owned homes it's hard to imagine how this would have gone down with the Beatle loving pop crowd. Roger got a sharpened coin thrown at his forehead on some Godforsaken date. Maybe you need the lightshow, but then all you have to do is lie on your bed and stare at the ceiling. Don't blame me if you see Stuart Maconie get hit in the face with a machine gun though. And I still get goosebumps over the stereo panning at the end.
The Gnome. I first heard this on Nigel Planer's "Neil's Heavy Concept Album" which I'd love to hear again. A lot more stripped back than his version. I love the way the record is split into electric and acoustic. The middle eight shows how far Syd was getting from his bandmates when listened to now.
Chapter 24. Another oddity. Lyrics from "I Ching" as previously stated... as done by a Generation Game contestant! But even Brucie would be moved by the "Change returns success" which is the most beautiful part of the album. (Tough competition mind) The song that launched a thousand hippie conmen.
The Scarecrow. This could have ended the album on a nice mellow high. I once knew a great friend (RIP) who said this song made him think it was about a soldier. Never really thought about it that way to be honest. Genesis Of The Daleks "Even the dead have their part...propped up to make the trenches appear fully manned". (He gave up on Who after Hartnell left... well I say gave up, he had a nervous breakdown after being sexual abused by his brother, plus the tension of living under the Kray neighbourhood regime, plus being doped up with lithium by his doctor...when he was still in school!) But I digress! This is another of the albums highlights and shows how to do psychedelia properly, and not a phase or sound effect in sight. Love the way the organ fades up and the acoustic patterns...man.
Bike. Oh how obsessed I was with this song! The album ends as it began with another WTF? track that is even more head splitting than Astronomy Domine.
So many people hear this and do it a disservice by just dismissing it outright at childish toss. There's some pretty amazing lyric patterns that thinking about it, showed the way for Sparks to follow. (and you see Bolan, at least Sparks had more than two ideas) No idea what happened at the end. Amazed Spike Milligan didn't sue there and then.
The Verdict. People always hold this up to other 1967 albums. Pheep! Foul!
Forever Changes (the current critical favourite) was Love's third album. Strange Days was the Doors second (go on Jim, swap acid for booze, it's not like anyone will be listening to you years later) and Cream (would look it up but...meh) were too buried alive in the blues and "Look at me Ma! Ma! Ma! Your not looking! She's not looking, play for another five minutes! Ma! Ma!"
to match the originality that Piper has.
You can't blame them for what came next. Other bands I mean, not what Floyd did next.
And as debuts go, it's better than The Doors and Please Please Me.
Sgt Pepper wasn't a debut either! So Piper At The Gates Of Dawn walks it.
Just don't mention Are You Experienced?... Oh shit! I just did!
Bugger bugger bugger bugger damn!
Nooo! My arguements are an indulgent twaddle!
I cannot be real!
Curse you Rog for making me this way!!!
For all I've said a five out of five. It doesn't always work in the cold light of day (have YOU had your children microchipped today? It will help TWAT. The War Against Terror) but it's the closest thing to recording fingertips clinging onto the toybox before it goes into the loft forever you'll ever get.
P.S. I associate Obscured by Clouds with a ex-girlfriend... wait till we get to that one!!!