The Pink Floyd song Nick Mason said sounded better live: “Didn’t really work on record”
Whether you’re a casual fan or a hardcore devotee, any play of progressive stalwarts Pink Floyd typically comes from their golden run of indispensable art-rock LPs between 1973 and 1979 or a dive into their debut, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Captained by original songwriter Syd Barrett, it was less space rock and more a distinctly English brand of surrealist pop—occupying a similarly charmingly psychedelic plane as The Zombies or Small Faces but soaked in an extra vat of LSD.
The committed may well peruse the post-1985 efforts fronted by David Gilmour, mainly for the moments of brilliance captured on the Pulse live album. However, the six records and soundtracks that litter their discography in the run-up to The Dark Side of the Moon are often glossed over, and for good reason. There are certainly magic moments and cosmic hints of what awaited, but their teething process post-Barrett lacks the cohesion and focused direction of the home run peak that was to come.
1970’s Atom Heart Mother starkly captures Pink Floyd’s mushy experimentalism. It pursues conceptual ideas with little clarity on whether the journey or destination is interesting. Centre-pieced by its 23-minute opening suite, experimental composer and sound innovator Ron Geesin was handed its backing mix tape to add his own orchestral touches to the piece, consisting of a full brass section, a solo cello, and the 16-piece John Alldis choir. Geesin does a good job with what he’s given, but the end result is a symphonic fuss that never truly amounts to anything.
Their collaboration with Geesin would prove vital in their technical evolution, however, instilling a DIY ethic that would reap greater rewards further down the line: “The thing that Ron taught us most about was recording techniques and tricks done on the cheap,” drummer Nick Mason revealed. “We learned how to get round the men-in-white-coats and do things at home, like editing. Ron taught us how to use two tape recorders to create an endless build-up of echo. It was all very relevant to things we did later”.
It’s the album’s closing track, which Mason thought had greater potential: “‘Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast’ was another great idea -gas fires popping, kettles boiling, that didn’t really work on record but was great fun live.”
A gentler affair exploring their roadie Alan Styles’ breakfast routine, it’s about as interesting as you’d expect considering its banal premise, and one can’t help but wonder what Barrett might have conjured with his greater knack for wrestling eccentric intrigue from the everyday humdrum. Legend has it that the stage was assembled like a kitchen when playing live, with Alan himself preparing some brekkie while the band noodled away.
Wishing to distance themselves from psychedelic conventions, Pink Floyd sought the services of Hipgnosis art collective to produce its memorable cover, a snap of Holstein-Friesian cow Lulubelle III in the Hertfordshire countryside, free of any titles or graphics of any kind. It’s just as well that a humorous cover sets the expectations for Atom Heart Mother‘s cluttered and trite irreverence.
The album has fans, but guitarist David Gilmour doesn’t count himself among them: “At the time, we felt Atom Heart Mother, like Ummagumma, was a step towards something or other. Now I think they were both just blundering about in the dark.”
