Pink Floyd

ARTICLE ABOUT Nick Mason (Pink Floyd) FROM SOUNDS, October 28, 1972

It is very fascinating to read this interview with a very down to earth man who would soon become one of the most successful musicians in the known universe through what would become one of history`s most beloved albums ever. The style of this interview is also “different” as it looks more like an conversation between two friends than a series of questions.
All in all, this is a great read.


Nick Mason in the talk-in

Interview by Steve Peacock

First it was called “Dark Side of The Moon”, then they discovered that Medicine Head had an album out under that name so they changed it to “Eclipse”. But by now it has taken – not unusually – a lot longer to record than they`d anticipated, and the Medicine Head album is long past, so the Pink Floyd have changed the title of their next album back to the original.
Also not unusually, Nick Mason confessed that there wasn`t really much to say about the album at this stage – they`re just grinding away at it, translating the piece from stage performance terms into studio terms.
What is unusual though, is that they`ve been performing the album live for some time before they recorded it.

Is this the first time you`ve worked this way round? You normally get something together in the studio, and then take it out on the road.

Right, that`s what we normally do. With “Atom Heart Mother” we had the piece a little before we recorded it and worked on it a little bit, but this was definitely a major change in terms of technique for us – normally we get into the studio and stagger about for days wondering what to put down. I think this is a better way of doing it, because you spend more time making a good record.
And also usually even if you use a late take when you`re recording, the tenth take or something, by the time you`ve taken it out on the road for a few months you`re starting to regret the way you handled it on the album.

That seems obvious for a fairly straightforward rock and roll band, but I wouldn`t have thought it necessarily applied to the Pink Floyd.

Well it doesn`t apply to everything – some things we never perform live for a start, and some things have a different quality in the studio that gets altered. But I think “Atom Heart Mother” is a prime example of one of the things we would have liked to have started again once we`d had it on the road for a while, because that was very much a case of learning by our mistakes, the techniques of recording it were quite extraordinary.
One of the things we did on that just as a starter was that Roger and I put down the whole thing, just bass and drums, which was a crazy thing to do. We used parts of that, but basically it all got chopped up anyway so it was a totally unnecessary, amazing feat of brilliance; totally useless.

Would you say the “Dark Side Of The Moon” piece was more straightforward, and rather more a “live” concept that most of the things you`ve done in the past?

Well, it is at the moment, because it was written that way, but I think there`s a lot of scope for doing other things with it. Like we keep talking about giving ourselves more time to do things like “Dark Side Of The Moon”, to get them a lot further than that was got before it was performed – though that was the furthest we`ve got anything I think. That`s one thing, and the other thing is that we`ve only recently started to get interested and find a use for synthesisers. We`ve had one around doing odd blips and burps for quite a time, but we`ve never really used it. We did a little on “Obscured By Clouds”, and I think we`ll use them more on this piece.


“Obscured By Clouds” was done in quite a short time, wasn`t it, and within tighter structures than you usually use? How well do you think it came out?

Sensational, actually. I thought the album was an amazing improvement on the film music, and I thought the film music was really good. But then I thought the same about “More”. It`s one of the annoying things in a way that the difference between something we`ve spent a week on and something that takes nine months isn`t that great – I mean the thing that takes nine months isn`t four times nine, 36 times as good. Obviously nine months doesn`t mean nine months solid recording, but even so…

I felt the tightness of it brought out a whole different quality in the music, and in the playing. More intense in a way.

Sure, I thought it was particularly good from that point of view, it had a good, together feel. It was a fairly relaxed album but it was… well, tight. I like that sort of short, scheme thing – it`s less disappointing in a way. Whenever we finish an album I always think it could have been better, but with things like “More” and “Obscured By Clouds” I tend to think it`s really not bad for the time – perhaps it`s just there`s more excuses.

Looking back over what you`ve done, eight or nine albums now isn`t it, can you see much that you`d originally thought were good ideas, but that you`ve now discarded?

Not much, actually. For instance we haven`t discarded the idea of orchestra and choir after “Atom Heart Mother”, if that`s what you mean, sort of “we tried it, and we don`t want to do that again”.

Not as specific as that really. More in your general approach.

There isn`t much really. We`ve made lots of mistakes, I know, but they`ve been filed under “Experience”, and there`s not much that we thought of as complete disasters that we`d never go back to. I can`t think of anything that really sticks out as a discard.


The music does seem to have got less violent – says comparing “Echoes WITH “Interstellar Overdrive” or “Careful with That Axe, Eugene”. I suppose that could be just old age…

(Laughs) … creeping up, yes. I don`t know – I think the thing that bothers me more than anything is that we seem to get stuck into a slow four tempo for nearly everything we do. Like the speed of “Meddle” is the speed of nearly everything we`ve done for too long. That has something to do with it, that penchant for slow tempos, but again I think in some ways things are becoming more aggressive – there`s more aggression in the way we do “Careful With That Axe” on stage now than there ever was when we first recorded it. Our original recordings of that were extremely mild, jogalong stuff.
Even if it doesn`t always come off, there`s meant to be a lot of very heavy vibes coming off the stage during “Dark Side Of The Moon”. We`re well into putting on a lot of effect in order to make the whole thing heavy, really, in the true sense of the word. I`m not expressing that very well, but I don`t think it`s getting any lighter, put it like that: it might have got a bit slower, but I don`t think it`s getting any lighter. And I don`t think the intention is to make it light either. It`s all a bit abstract really.

Yeah. I suppose what I was really trying to get at was how you felt you`d changed over the years – moving through that UFO/Middle Earth scene up to now.

One doesn`t really feel that it has changed much because you`re in it you tend to feel you`re just the same and it`s everyone else that`s different. I think we just take for granted all kinds of things that happen to us, things like our attitude to what the show should be like.
I can`t remember exactly what we were saying in 1967, but I`m sure it was something to the effect that “there`s the light show, and we`re really incidental to the whole event; we should be in the background somewhere and we don`t approve of people rushing about the stage jumping up and down.” Ostensibly we still don`t jump up and down, but the pyrotechnics and everything on stage now are arch-showmanship really. When we were in America we did a show at the Bowl where it was only marginal whether it was us or a sort of Barnum and Bailey carnival night – fireworks, searchlights, the lot.
I suppose the real thing is that there are so many more facilities available to us now: five years ago we thought that you should do almost anything to increase the power of what you were doing, and it`s just that now the whole thing`s turned into this gigantic circus of steel machinery.



I think one fairly obvious difference is that with clubs like UFO, people came as much for the event as to see you, whereas now – despite the sound in the round and everything – they come and sit and watch the stage.

Right, because there`s all sorts of things to bring their attention to the stage, like the lighting towers and so on. I think that`s inevitable though, because apart from anything else it`s to do with the size of the place you`re playing. At UFO – now we`re really sounding like old age pensioners – but at UFO there was this kind of community feeling about it all. There were other events going on while we were playing, the light show were doing their thing as well, rather than just lighting us, and so on. But really, there`s no magic in some of the horrible places we play at now, baseball stadiums and so on, so that`s one reason why we centre a lot more on the stage. And then obviously there`s all sorts of other reasons as well – ego drive, and success…

Because the more people know your names and faces the more they want to look at you, sure. But it hasn`t changed the effect you want to have on the audience?

No, I don`t think so. I think we`re clearer now than we ever were about what we want to do – we used to have very vague aspirations. Like when we started all we were into was Top Of The Pops and a hit single, and then when we attained that, it was an amazing disappointment and very nearly exploded the band.

So how much did you feel a part of that 1967, community thing at UFO? Was it just a case of playing those places because that`s where you got gigs?

I think I played them because that`s where we were – I didn`t know what the f–k was going on. Peter and Andrew (Jenner and King of Blackhill, the Floyd`s first managers) and the kind of Joe Boyd figures that were around then were probably part of it in a way that I certainly wasn`t; all four of us – we were the band, that`s all, rather bizarre, sometimes very inward looking people who lived in a world of our own. There was no community spirit whatsoever; all we were interested in was our EMI contract, making a record, being a hit.
At UFO we felt like the house band, it was by far the nicest gig and it was what everyone asked about at interviews and so on, but I certainly wasn`t into the lifestyle of the whole thing. One knew the people one came up against of course, people like Joe Boyd and Hoppy, and once there one ran up against people that one still sees occasionally, but I don`t think I felt part of The New Movement, because I was too busy being part of the new rock and roll movement, which was a different thing.

So one day it was the Roundhouse and the next it was Sheperd`s Bush TV studios, and apart from the obvious differences it wasn`t that strange for you?

Well yes, obviously there was an amazing difference, but then you just took it in your stride. I think today I`d probably have a nervous breakdown because the two places are totally opposed, but then it just all seemed part of your life.

Would it be fair to say then that the Pink Floyd`s music has grown out of whoever`s been in the band, from the inside, rather than being a product of – whatever you care to call it – some kind of outside cultural changes in the past few years?

Basically, yes, but it isn`t quite as simple as that. The launching of it had a lot to do with Syd, his writing and his songs were what did it really because as a band we probably weren`t very good, in fact I`m sure we weren`t. That was part of it, and another part of it was Peter and Andrew – like the light show was more their idea than ours, and that was an amazing leapfrog forward because even if we had the worst light show imaginable, no-one had seen anything like that before. This is psychedelia, man.
I think we were all in a fairly confused state – it was only long after all that period was over that we really started to talk about what we were going to try and do. Vague attempts were made at that time, with “Games For May”, to do a show of our own, but then we didn`t manage to follow it through and do another one until two years after, and that`s really a long time not to do something you were intending to do. It was just muddle and finances and being out of control really – just muddling along.


You do have the reputation anyway of taking quite a long time to get things together. Do you find you need that time just to keep the hassles at bay, give yourselves some room to breathe?

Well, the trouble is that there are so many things to do and any new thing takes so much time. It`s true that we do get stale if we work too much. It`s very simple really – if we work too hard then we all get very tired and we stop doing anything creative, we go into a sort of zombie, bash-it-out state which is really dangerous. It`s the easiest way, possibly, of blowing up a band because the whole thing becomes pointless and you lose all interest in what you`re doing.
That`s for us – in the words of the Scottish guru (Ron Geesin) we`re all humans, and what some people get off on, others don`t. There are some bands who can work 300 days out of the year doing live shows and that`s when they`re happy, but it doesn`t work like that for us. We try and work live as much as we can, and record, which takes so long, and so it gets very heavy to try to find really long periods of time to write new things without rushing them. Like for “Dark Side Of The Moon” we did give ourselves a reasonable amount of time, and it still wasn`t long enough. We could always use more time.
We don`t work all that much in England, it`s true – it tends to be one tour a year or something. But for a long time we suffered terrible embarassment here because we felt we were just going out all the time and doing the same things. “Ummagumma” was supposed to be a farewell gift of all those live numbers – goodbye, that`s it. We still do bits of them now in fact, but that`s because we like to do them, but for three years or something we did them because we had nothing to replace them. I just felt embarassed in England, because people would shout out for what we were going to do next, because they knew what we were going to do next. There just wasn`t anything else.


Though even when you put new stuff in they still shout for the oldies.

Yeah, but at least we`re splitting it now. But that is one of the dangers of being an elderly band – anything over three years, and particularly the 1967 syndrome, because you`re history. “Darling, they`re playing our tune, it brings back that summer in Hyde Park, doesn`t it?”
Really. The younger ones come along and wants to know what it was all like then, because they didn`t have mothers and fathers tell them about it, but they certainly had elder brothers and sisters saying “when we were young, there was the Pink Floyd, you know”.

Does it surprise you that you`ve stayed together so much longer than most bands?

Yes, it does, mainly because you always think it`s your band that`s got the nutters in it. You occasionally meet people from other bands and they seem very nice, and you start thinking “I wish I worked in a band with real people like that in it”; and then you find out that they`re all much worse than the lot you`re thrown in with, much worse, and they all attack each other with ice-picks and so on.

Right. I don`t know whether it`s because I`ve known you as the Pink Floyds for so long, but I can`t imagine any of you moving off to form a new band of your own somehow.

I think it could always happen – there`s always various hurdles that you either get over or you don`t, say the first year, or the third year, or relative to money or success or something, or people feeling that they`re not getting the credit for something they`ve done, or they could do better by themselves. I think “Ummagumma” was a great thing in that respect, because everyone got a chance to show what they could do.
There are still a lot of things, too, that we could all do together that we`re all aware of, and someone said they wanted to go off and do something on his own, then it would be cool to do that as well. There are bands where if someone wanted to do that everyone else would say no, but I`m sure we wouldn`t now.

Or they say “yes, but we`ve all got to do it.” But perhaps also it`s because you have been able to take time over what you want to do. After the initial hit single thing, it`s been a fairly un-hysterical, gentle climb upwards rather than the very fast David Bowie kind of situation.

True, but it`s all surmise really. I think that`s one of the most interesting things about rock and roll bands, is the way they work together, the psychology of the group. It`s equivalent to families, and various things I`ve never been in but I`d imagine would be similar, one being a small army unit, and another a prep school.
Because you can oscillate so easily between love and hate – real love and real hate. At one moment you can feel really close to them, or to one of them, or you can hate them. It`s never two against two, either, it`s always three against one, it really is amazing to watch sometimes. Jokes, and the way they become teasing, and bullying – that`s what it gets down to.
And again it`s surmise, but think we`ve been lucky in that we`ve used our managers when there`s been a lot of aggression instead of always ganging up on each other. Steve O`Rourke (their present manager) can take a lot of aggravation from us – we can be incredibly spiteful, and he can channel a lot of that from us without actually breaking, and beating us about the heads with clubs. That seems to be fantastically important.


I`d never thought of that – that could be one of a manager`s most important functions, because you can`t take it out on other people, like roadies. Apart from anything else they`d leave immediately.

Right, and anyway that would be like going out into the audience and finding somebody very small and beating them up, it wouldn`t be fair. And you couldn`t pick on anyone bigger because you might lose. You need someone of equal stature. All that, of course, is particularly true when you`re on the road.

Staggering through some kind of strange nightmare, like the first American tour, which appears to have been the prototype nightmare American trip.

I`m sure that was a dream, in fact, and we all seemed to share it, which is the most alarming thing. That`s it, I suppose – there`s such a wealth of things that we`ve been through, that after a certain point you feel almost obliged to stay together just so you can tell each other funny stories about “do you remember when…”


I have personally transcribed this from the original paper. Any errors in the text from the original magazine may not have been corrected for the sake of accuracy. If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

This number of Sounds also contains articles/interviews with these people: Melanie, Roxy Music, Medicine Head, Jimmy Cliff, John Entwhistle, Paul Simon, Fleetwood Mac, Yes, Steve Tilson.

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!

1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to:
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.


ARTICLE ABOUT Rick Wright (Pink Floyd) FROM SOUNDS, June 3, 1972

A very interesting article for Floyd fans, I should guess. Rick Wright speaking of their plans and wishes at the time, including their plan for another name for the “Dark Side Of The Moon” album.


Floyd: Wright on cue

By Steve Peacock

One step forward, half a step back; well, not back exactly, but you have to watch that you don`t lose something important in the process of moving on. It`s easy to do under the pressures of the rock and roll business, easy to find yourself going not forward, but round in ever-decreasing circles.
The Pink Floyd seem to be one band who are constantly aware of the dangers, always vowing to make time to stop and think hard about the next move, to give themselves room to take stock occasionally. It`s not easy – this year they`re managing to take the first real holiday they`ve had for three years – and there`s always the conflict over whether to push ideas to their logical conclusion and risk becoming too narrow, or to keep starting again.


For instance, they`ve been experimenting with quadraphonic sound systems for years now, and it`s got to the point where they can say they`ve got their concert set-up working pretty well – quadsound, lights, effects and music.
The obvious next step, as Rick Wright points out, is to extend what they can actually do with the machines they have: “It still could be improved a lot – not the actual equipment, but what we put into it. There`s still an awful lot we could do. At the moment, we`ve just been able to use tapes and effects in quad, and now I`d like to be able to have the whole band playing in quadrophonic, so that the stage is no longer the centre of the sound.”
And that of course brings its own peculiar problems; like there can be up to a second`s delay between playing a note and hearing it come back through the far speakers. That makes playing anything in time rather difficult, and Rick says one solution might be to have everyone wearing headphones on stage. But then you have to bear in mind that that would lead you into a fairly drastic change in the band`s approach to live concerts. – almost bringing a studio to an audience, rather than the usual rock and roll division between technique in the studio, energy on stage.
“It`s just a bit worrying sometimes – you can get very involved with sound and equipment and so on, which is a really good thing, it`s really exciting to work with, but at times I miss the simplicity of just going out and playing. At times you`re so worried about everything working, about whether everything`s going to come in on cue, that the actual performance can suffer, and I think it does with us sometimes. Occasionally, I feel I`d like to go back to just having a stage and us playing.


“I`m not trying to put down what we do, because I think it`s really good that we should be trying to do it; it`s just sometimes I feel it`s overwhelming us. I don`t know how the others feel, maybe it inspires them to play better, and it does me when it`s working well. But sometimes I look at our huge truck and tons and tons of equipment and think `Christ, all I`m doing is playing an organ`.”
That aside, the other constant problem faced by the Floyd – and many other bands – is that of finding the time to develop their ideas as much as they want to. It`s the old problem of finding a way to stop the roundabout – tour, album, tour, album, tour – for long enough to keep out of the rut, and it`s ironic that as the Floyd have become more and more successful, so they`ve had less and less time to themselves. The prospect of having July and August completely free of all committments, the first such break for three years, is highly attractive.
“I just feel like I`ve been rushing around not knowing where I am, living in hotels, in planes, on American tours – it all got highly confusing, doesn`t do your head any good. I thought I`d get away for a couple of months and not think about the Floyd at all – well, I will of course, but I`ll have the freedom not to think under all the pressure.”
Before they go, they have next month in the studio to record their next album “Eclipse” – which is the piece they did on the last tour, originally called “Dark Side Of The Moon”, until they found out Medicine Head had called their album that: “and also Eclipse is a better title for it.” When they come back, there`s an American tour, and – at last – the long-projected ballet with Roland Pettit.


“He`s decided to use “Eclipse” as the music for that. We`ve been talking with him about doing something for years and years, and he`d bring up an idea and then decide not to use it. It went on and on until we practically gave it up as a lost cause, but we sent him a tape of a live performance, and he said it was what he wanted. So we`ll be doing that in Marseilles with him, and hopefully a French tour as well.”
Which means that the rest of this year is pretty well accounted for. Before they go on the road next year though, and certainly before they play in London again, they want to take enough time to get together a new project, this time incorporating film into their stage performance. “With Eclipse it`s very important to be able to hear the words, and it works very well in England and America, but playing it abroad they just don`t understand what`s happening – obviously not because they don`t understand the words.
“So the next thing we want to do is to use film, so that it`s an international thing – it`s visual so everyone can understand it. But then once you start getting into film it takes a lot of time and a lot of money; I don`t know how long it`ll take but I hope we`ll be able to set aside enough time early next year to do it.”


I have personally transcribed this from the original paper. Any errors in the text from the original magazine may not have been corrected for the sake of accuracy. If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

This number of Sounds also contains articles/interviews with these people: Steve Marriott and Alexis Korner, John Lodge (Moody Blues), Joni Mitchell, Eddie Davis, Quintessence, Richard Thompson, Osibisa, David Essex, Chris Farlowe, Todd Rundgren, The Watersons.

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!

1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to:
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.

ARTICLE ABOUT Pink Floyd FROM SOUNDS, August 14, 1971

Another one with the Floyd. A couple of interesting opinions in this one. I recently saw one of the tribute bands, Brit Floyd, in my hometown of Trondheim and I would recommend them as the next best thing to the original band. The interest that there is in tribute bands to Floyd, shows how much we all miss the original band. Great music!


Floyd – A buzz of interest

By Steve Peacock

There is a body of opinion, not so much in England but more in the rest of Europe and in America, which contends that the Pink Floyd never really did anything to match the things they did when Syd Barrett was with them.
Looking back over their work, and considering that the bulk of Syd`s work with the band was completed before the “Saucerful of Secrets” LP (he played on some tracks, but Dave Gilmour joined the Floyd while they were in the middle of recording that album) it seems a slightly ridiculous contention.
This is not to belittle Syd`s work at all – you only have to listen to that first album and hear things like his “Bike”, or to the two solo albums that he made since leaving the Floyd, to realise that he is an astonishingly original and inventive writer and musician.
And if you ever saw the group play live in the early days with Syd, you`ll know how important a force he was in their music.


But that was then, and I think it is fair to say that – whatever the politics surrounding his departure from the group – if he hadn`t left, we wouldn`t have had a Pink Floyd for as long as we have. It got to the point within the group where Syd and the others just could not work together.
Syd left, the Pink Floyd carried on with Dave Gilmour, and have since been responsible for some of the most exciting and novel pieces of rock music to emerge from the great flood of ideas we`ve experienced during the past five years.
When people talk about the avant-garde of British rock music, whatever that might be, there are always two names that are mentioned; Soft Machine and Pink Floyd. In their separate ways, both have contributed a great deal. They`re not leaders, as such, because that implies that people have picked up on their music and copied it and though you could easily point to a thousand Mayall imitators, or Cream imitators, you`d be hard put to it to find more than a handful of groups who have borrowed in such an obvious way from the Soft Machine or the Floyd.
They have had their influence though – mainly by opening doors and expressing broad ideas that other musicians have absorbed into their attitudes more than their musical form.
One of the oddest things about the Floyd is that, after “Saucerful of Secrets”, it is difficult to find any kind of logical development in their music. Obviously there is progression from one musical idea to the next, but it isn`t in any clearly defined “direction”, and after listening to their most recent work you don`t really have any idea what they are likely to do next.


Each album – in some cases each track – is a project on its own; everything they`ve done had been unmistakably Pink Floyd, but everything fits into a general idea rather than a pattern.
Who could have seen “Atom Heart Mother” after the “Ummagumma” album, or “Alan`s Psychedelic Breakfast” on the same album as “Atom Heart”? Not me, and I suspect not the Pink Floyd.
They are all notoriously vague when answering questions about what they are going to do in the future, or even what they are doing at any given time, and they tend to work very slowly – trying out a lot of ideas before they make a decision on what to carry right through.
The list of projects that get postponed, or half finished, or dropped because something else came along, is endless.
But one thing is always certain; when they come up with something it is usually excellent, and it always creates a loud buzz of interest.


6 100 Watt Hiwatt Amps
17 100 Watt WEM Amps
1 40 Watt WEM Amp
1 Leslie 145 Speaker
4 WEM 2 x 15 Speakers
8 WEM 4 x 12 Speakers
11 WEM 4 x 12 Speaker Columns
8 WEM 2 x 15 Speaker Columns
4 WEM Horn Units
2 WEM Mixers
5 Binson Echo Units
1 WEM 1 x 12 Speaker Cabinet
4 3 x 10 WEM Speaker Columns
2 Leslie 147 Speakers
2 WEM Horns
4 Tannoy Speakers
1 H.H. Electronic 100 Watt Amp
1 Leslie Amp

6 Sennheiser Microphones
12 Shure Microphones
12 Microphone Stands

2 Fender Stratocaster Guitars
2 Fender Precision Bass Guitars

1 Ludwig Drum Kit with 7 drums and 9 cymbals assorted sizes

1 Hammond M102 Organ
1 Farfisa Organ Pack

3 Revox Tape Recorders
1 Gong and Stand


I have personally transcribed this from the original paper. Any errors in the text from the original magazine may not have been corrected for the sake of accuracy. If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

This number of Sounds also contains articles/interviews with these people: Alun Davies, Roger McGuinn, Rev. Gary Davis, Judy Collins, Ottilie Patterson, Gentle Giant, Black Sabbath, Moby Grape, Henry McCullough, David Bowie, Marc Bolan, Yes, Family, ELP, Jethro Tull, Grease Band, Osibisa, Strawbs, Led Zeppelin, Mimi Farina.

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!

1. Send me an e-mail if you are interested. Send it to:
2. The offer should be 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.

ARTICLE ABOUT Pink Floyd from New Musical Express, September 20, 1975

I thought this really long record record review of one of the greatest albums made in the 70s could be of interest.
What did they think of it when it was new? Well, as you will find out, Mr. Erskine did have a positive attitude towards it. Have a nice read!


How Pink Floyd learned to stop worrying and make another album

The Floyd: from success to success via disenchantment

By Pete Erskine

Pink Floyd: “Wish You Were Here” (Harvest)

You needn`t be psychic to be able to predict the courses taken by most rock bands; indeed one of the overriding features of rock`s mainstream is in its universal predictability.
“Dark Side Of The Moon” is celebrating its 128th week in the charts; a top twenty staple since its appearance at number one in March 1973.
Yet for all its colossal and continuing worldwide sales and its garnering for the Floyd of new, hitherto, unexploited record buying markets including many first-time pop record purchasers – “Dark Side” must have become something of an albatross.
The extent of its success left the Floyd slightly bewildered and in a position of unenviable obligation; the record had sold world-wide – they were thus committed to two years of touring with it.
How could they possibly retain any interest in the project?
Consider it. Nowadays most `major` albums may take in excess of six months intensive recording; millions of playbacks, countless hours dwelling on the slightest chord change.

Quite often, by the time the album actually hits the racks the band is already bored with it – and frequently already involved with the embryo of its successor.
As it happens, “Dark Side” took over a year in the making. “It was a good package” offered a reluctant Dave Gilmour when asked why he thought the album had sold so well.
This was reflected by the attitude of most of the people I`ve talked to since who bought it. With one accord their opening line has been “yeah… well it`s really well produced isn`t it?”
I honestly think that the Floyd themselves have never regarded it as a major work. They`re also aware of a faction that operates in response to all bands of their level – the unselective Fan Syndrome which readily scarfs up virtually anything dubbed `Floyd`. They`re also aware of the motivation of intellectual snobbery/reflected glory; wherein it is supposed that the Floyd are an `intelligent` group – respectable enough to make the crossover from Greatcoatland to the coffee table – and therefore, by association, the buyer also feels himself to be `intelligent`.

The irony was that under close scrutiny “Dark Side” is as obvious as any Uriah Heep album; I mean, titling a track “Brain Damage” is hardly a masterstroke of subtlety, but to preface it with demented rantings?
Anyway, the point I`m trying to make is twofold. Threefold actually.
I would assess the results of “Moon`s” success thus:
a) The fact that it accrued the Floyd a wider cross-section of potential purchases of any subsequent albums meant that the pressure on them to adopt a `safe` middle course became greater than ever. They must have felt a tremendous pressure to have to try and repeat the “Moon” formula (whatever that may be) – which is why, one supposes, they went through a period of token rebellion by embarking on a possible follow-up recorded entirely on coal scuttles, rubber band etc.
b) Roger Waters – whose lyrics always seem to have been marked by strong elements of morose melancholy and angry-young-man protestations – began manifesting the increased cynicism felt by the band at the nature of their `success`. Perhaps nobody on that level who is really honest with himself figures that his talent really justifies the extent of his adulation.
Thus, during one of the new pieces performed on the last English tour, “Gotta Be Crazy” – a cynical modern-day survival kit detailing our conditioning to twisted values – he comes out with the lines “Gotta be sure, you gotta be quick/Gotta divide the tame from the sick/Gotta keep some of us docile and fit/You gotta keep everyone buying this shit.”

c) The fact that the band were saddled with having to perform “Moon” – a project they were not 100% satisfied with in the first place – over and over for two years began to have an adverse effect on their morale and their instrumental abilities; the fact that “Wish You Were Here” has taken even longer to make than “Moon” seems to suggest that for at least part of the time they were really at a loss for new ideas. Furthermore, even apart from the abortive “Households Objects” project, they made two or three other abortive stop-starts.
They were – as you probably know – bootlegged on last year`s tour.
“British Winter Tour `74” comprised the three new numbers showcased therein – “Raving And Drooling”, “Gotta Be Crazy” and a 22-minute tribute to Syd Barrett, “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”.
After having seen them perform these on two successive occasions at Wembley all I could conclude was that “Moon” had finally cauterised the last vestiges of The Element Of Surprise supposedly typified by the band.
Though – as the bootleg reveals – the quality of their performances improved immeasurably towards the end of the tour, I couldn`t help but feel that as a last desperate uninspired measure they`ve finally succumbed to recycling the more obvious musical bits of “Moon”, coupling them with Waters` lyrical protestations which were often rendered insincere through the use of some rather obvious and hackneyed imagery.

It is therefore with genuine pleasure that I can tell you that “Wish You Were Here” belies all expectations of it being a certified stiff.
It is by no means a mightily challenging radically experimental album, but where “Moon” seemed flatulent, morose, aimless and sometimes positively numbskull, “Wish You Were Here” is concise, highly melodic and, in a pleasingly (and perhaps deceptively) simple fashion, very well played. In particular, there are carefully, thoughtfully executed solos from Dave Gilmour (mostly within a kind of blues idiom) and Richard Wright.
The cover, like the album, is clean and positive.
Where Hipgnosis` “Dark Side” sleeve seemed to bear little relation to the contents, and to be pictorially rather sombre, their “Wish You Were Here” package is amusing and imaginative.
The outer sleeve is devoid of graphics. The front is a colour photograph, singed in the top right hand corner, set on a white background. A pair of Sicilian-looking managerial types are shaking hands in a deserted Los Angeles film lot. The one on the right is on fire.
The backside – another colour photograph on a white background – this time with sand seeping through a small rent in the border, is a Magritte-inspired montage of a pinstriped bowler-hatted executive with transparent wrists and ankles and an eyeless, mouthless face partially in shadow, standing on a sand dune with one foot on the de rigeur rock `n` roll fibreglass briefcase, offering a transparent copy of the record in his right hand.


The inner sleeve is faced with a similarly laid-out piece of surrealism – a row of poplars photographed at ground-level fronted by a large red airborne chiffon scarf within which the body of a woman can be vaguely detected.
The reverse carries a small picture (again, Magritte inspired) of a diver, having entered the waters of the Red Sea without a ripple. Surrounded by sleeve credits and the lyrics.
According to Richard Wright, Storm and Po`s (that`s Hipgnosis`) intention had been to carry through the idea suggested by the title in a pictorial fashion – i.e., that “Wish You Were Here” is a stock postcard phrase that invariably means the exact opposite.
Which is why all the pictures are supposed to represent impossibles – the splashless dive, etc.
EMI`s Brian Southall offers up more logical explanations: “The faceless man in the desert is a record executive; the split with the sand coming out of it is supposed to represent the slipping away of the sands of time.
“The photograph of the guys shaking hands is supposed to represent earth, wind and fire, the trees with the bit of red rag is to fill up white space.”
The package comes in black shrink-wrapped plastic with a sticker of a mechanical handshake over a stylised landscape. One hand is metal, the other plastic. This is supposed to represent the affiliation of the earth with the machine, the elements (represented by plastic??) shaking hands with the automaton.

Within, the theme is exploited by three thematically linked tracks after which the album closes with a restyled reprise of side one`s “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.”
“Welcome To The Machine” is also thematically linked to the dumped “Gotta Be Crazy” which was about Keeping Up With Progress, ruthlessness catalysed by warped materialistic values.
Literally, “Welcome To The Machine” is an acidic view of the record business as a mechanical conveyor belt, where the unsuspecting “artiste” is regaled by bullshit managers playing on his bullshit conditioning: “Welcome my son, welcome to the machine/What did you dream? It`s alright we told you what to dream/You dreamed of a big star, he played a mean guitar.”
The track opens with Wright knocking out a series of overdubbed cybernetic rhythms as Gilmour handles the vocals with an eerie, keening hopelessness whilst providing acoustic guitar accompaniment to Wright`s synthetic string fills.
Like most of Waters` songs, “Welcome To The Machine” exudes an atmosphere of pre-destined doom. “The Machine” is doubtless intended to have associations outside of the record business.
Roy Harper opens the second side with the next step, “Have A Cigar” musically a relative of “Money.”
The lyrics are a pastiche of Heavy Manager Rap: “Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar…/ Well, I`ve always had a deep respect, and I mean that most sincerely/ The band is just fantastic, that is really what I think/Oh by the way which one`s Pink?”

Gilmour plays an incisive Texan-style guitar outro leading into an inspired idea for a link; his closing notes suddenly become transmuted to sound as if they`re coming from a tinny radio speaker. An unseen hand changes stations through a miasma of static and atmospherics, the tail end of a radio play, a burst of orchestral music, before settling on a fading, distanced acoustic guitar piece.
The Unseen Figure waits for the tune to come round again, picks up his own acoustic guitar and begins playing along in counterpoint – traditionally the way that most young guitarists learn to play.
The melody evolves into the title track, “Wish You Were Here,” another Waters opus to tedium and routine and ultimate hopelessness.
The side closes with the third verse of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” – Waters doing his “Eugene” bass part.
Personally, I don`t find the lyrics as offensive to The Memory Of Syd as colleague Nick Kent, although the odd simile jangles a bit – “When you were young you shone like the sun…now there`s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky” – however they may be compensated for with lines like “you wore out your welcome with random precision.”
Against all odds “Wish You Were Here” easily outdistances “Moon” in terms of the context of Floyd music – to which I`ll admit, again, that I`m not a great subscriber.
I enjoy the playing, the blending of the instruments, more on this album than on any of its predecessors; it makes for very pleasant listening.

I doubt, however, that my affection for it will increase with the passage of time and repeated plays; indeed, already, just in the course of writing this review I am beginning to find parts of it slightly melancholic, a little depressing.
But then I doubt many people will ever have to approach it from my particular viewpoint.
I still find Waters` political stance disturbing. There`s a real and bitter fervour in “Welcome To The Machine,” “Have A Cigar” and “Wish You Were Here.” As there was in “Gotta Be Crazy” and “Money.”
To say that his lyrics can sometimes be “obvious” is perhaps unfair. “Obvious” in terms of what?
“Umma Gumma” never was intended to be the serious enfant terrible of psychedelia. That was only the sum of the claims people made for it. So why shouldn`t Waters be “Obvious”? It`s very easy to end up panning a band for the nature of the claims made for it by The Fans.
However, the real question is whether Waters – if he really feels these things so strongly – is better deployed utilising the pop medium, possibly stirring millions of people`s imagination, or whether he should be out on the streets physically changing things.
Do you therefore bring about changes from infiltrating The System and working from within a context people will understand (at risk of being tainted by that system) or do you cut yourself loose and work from a practical guerilla basis?
The irony must surely be that the Pink Floyd are making money out of criticising the machine that makes them money.
Perhaps, as an artist, one`s role is simply to illuminate one`s realisations to the masses – it being up to them to decide whether or not to bring about changes.
But, on the other hand, if you stand in a position of influence and wealth…and if you really care…


I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

This number of New Musical Express also contains articles/interviews with these people: Paul McCartney, Robert Calvert, Carlos Santana, Alex Harvey, Jimi Hendrix, Maurice White, Cecil Taylor, Alan Longmuir (Bay City Rollers), Alice Cooper.

This edition is sold!


This is an article following up on an earlier article where NME critisised David Gilmour`s unwashed hair of all things! The original article was also printed on this site earlier, so you may like to read that one first to get the whole story.


A short while ago Pink Floyd, darlings of the intelligentsia, the stereo-minded and lots of others besides, were victims of two NME hitmen – Benedicto Nicolini (a.k.a. Nicky the K) and Sneeky Pete Erskine, who stabbed Floyd viciously in the hair, the musical integrity and in the dry ice. An inquest took place this week

Dirty Hair Denied

There`s no dandruff on this band, claims guitarist Dave Gilmour (no split ends either) before delivering key evidence as to the merits and defects of Pink Floyd, defending their music, and denying all rumours that they were killed in the attack.
Interview: Pete Erskine.

“Hi Dave, have you washed your hair?”
“No.” Gilmour flashes a thin-lipped grin as he takes his seat, “and if he can find any split ends in here (lifting clump of  hair) then…”
“Then what, DAVE?”

But he’s already scanning the menu and doesn’t hear. His free hand, however, is worrying over a plastic tea spoon. Unconsciously, he gradually crushes it, letting the pieces slip through his fingers and fall onto the tabletop. Gilmour is nothing if not self-controlled. Placid, even. But not quite.
His anger is of the sullen, smouldering variety and yet, the weird thing is that even during such moments he’ll often make way for a broad smile which can be utterly disarming because it might, just might, be a harbinger of doom, the herald for a personal close-up of one of the robust Gilmour flails. Although I can’t imagine it ever happening.
He is angry, though. He told me so on the `phone a couple of minutes after he’d read the piece.
“I’ve just read the piece,” he said, “and I’m very angry about it.”

The ‘piece’ in question – an action replay for those who missed it – appeared in the 23/11/74 NME issue, written by myself and Mr. Kent in direct response to our witnessing the Floyd on the first two nights of their four-day residency at Wembley. I’m afraid we were a little rude about them.
Mr. Kent wrote an extended review cum critique, and I, through the back door, managed to secure an audience with Gilmour in which I confronted him with the accusations to be aired in the piece. The overall intention, see, had been, in the words of the introductory blurb, “to get Floyd back into perspective”, a sentiment which Gilmour himself says he thoroughly condones. It was the approach that riled him.
Ultimately the phone call resulted in myself inviting Gilmour for lunch – partly as a placatory gesture, partly to prove that the forementioned Kent and myself could, and would, stand by what’d been written and mainly because a re-match might prove to be interesting.

The axis of the criticism in the piece lay upon the fact (self-confessed by Gilmour) that on two consecutive nights the Pink Floyd made music of such low quality that it cast rather anvil-like aspersions on (a) their motivations (b) their overall musicianship (c) the feeling engendered by them in their audiences (both short and long term) and admirers – one of whom, Sunday Times critic Derek Jewell, pulled out some florid prose in an appraisal of the debut Thursday night gig (described subsequently by Gilmour as `probably the worst we’ve done on the whole tour`).
Jewell wrote: “Richly they merit their place among the symphonic overlords of today’s popular hierarchy…they reeled off, apparently effortlessly, a performance with musical textures so ravishing and visual accompaniment so surprising that, for once, the thunderous standing ovation was completely justified.”
Such bland acceptance irritates the band, says Gilmour, equally, if not more so than its denigrators.

“I don’t think anyone on our level feels deserving of that kind of superhuman adulation number,” he claims, hacking at a piece of steak.
“But then a lot of them probably dig it. Sure, I’m cynical of our position. I don’t think we deserve it. But I’m no more cynical of our position than I am of anyone else’s on our level. I mean…to try and maintain your own perspective on what you are is totally different.”
The lyrics of “Gotta Be Crazy” – as Nick Kent pointed out – reveal a very great deal of cynicism, particularly the line “gotta keep people buying this shit” which is tantamount to a sneer at the audience.
” Mmm. Yeah. It is possibly a sneer…but not at the audience as a whole, but at the type of adulation bands like us get. I mean I think there is something wrong with that…people needing hero figures like that, thinking that rock musicians have all the answers.”
But don’t you think that while not really being responsible for that element, the fact that it hasn’t been challenged means that bands like the Floyd, through neglect, are helping compound it?

“Yes. Probably. But I think we’re less guilty than most. I mean, we’ve made conscious attempts at fighting it.”
Such as?
“In things we’ve said in interviews and things like that. We’ve always said that we don’t believe in that whole number, but it’s very hard to get away from the image people put on you.”
How large a proportion of record buyers and concert-goers buy music papers though? A question I did in fact neglect to add. Still seems a bit lame though, eh? One would’ve thought that a couple of really finely honed satires would at least help… but then, really, how concerned are bands about these kinds of things? Motives schmotives. It helps sell records. And you don’t gnaw the digits that feed you.
Anyway, we’re messing around here. To the specifics. Gilmour is raking through the apposite issue as he eats. He’s inclined towards the John Peel reaction (thinly disguised in his mildly self-congratulatory Diary of the Domestic unfolded each week in Sounds) that the piece was ‘hysterical’, overly-personal and laced with supposed inaccuracies.
The first 11 of Kent’s opening paragraphs make Gilmour particularly mad. He claims that description of his personal appearance and that of a member of the audience (and his attitudes) is totally superfluous.

The offending words ran thus: “On November 14, 1974, approximately 7,000 people washed their hair and travelled down to the Empire Pool, Wembley, to witness the Pink Floyd live. Almost everyone, that is, except Dave Gilmour – his hair looked filthy there on stage, seemingly anchored down by a surfeit of scalp grease and tapering off below the shoulders with a spectacular festooning of split ends….”
This led on to a description of a Floyd look-alike in the audience, who is held up as a Floyd fan archetype who smokes dope, prattles on about the cosmos and gets off on the stereo production quirks inherent in all Floyd albums.
“I don’t see any of it being in any way relevant,” says Gilmour in that sullen/placid tone of voice that could be either. Or both. “So there’s a guy like that in the audience. So what? There were probably others like him, but you find people like that at any concert – but then Kent probably set out to find one and he did.”
I assure him that our approach was in no way premeditated. There was no question of a pre-planned axe-job on anyone’s part.

‘Well, I just don’t believe it of Nick Kent. I really don’t. He’s still involved with Syd Barrett and the whole 1967 thing. I don’t even know if he ever saw the Floyd with Syd.’
“He goes on about Syd too much and yet, as far as I can see, there’s no relevance in talking about Syd in reviewing one of our concerts.”
But one of the new songs is about him.
“Yes, but that’s all. In the beginning the songs were all his and they were brilliant. No one disputes that. But I don’t think the actual sound of the whole band stems from Syd. I think it stems just as much from Rick (Wright). I mean, Syd’s thing was short songs.”
As for hair-washing. Well, the subject got short shrift. I think, though, that dressing especially for a gig is something that Gilmour subconsciously associates with ‘showbusiness’ – about which more later. Meanwhile in subsequent conversation with Carlena Williams, one of the Blackberries, the two black back-up chicks they hired for the tour, Carlena expressed delight at the opening paras.


“Sheeut!” she observed daintily, “When ah saw that bit about Dave’s hair ah jus’ cracked up. Ah had t’read it y’know?”
Back to Syd.
“The band just before Syd departed had got into a totally impossible situation. No one wanted to book them. After the success of the summer of ’67 the band sank like a stone; the gigs they were doing at the time were all empty because they were so bad. The only way out was to get rid of Syd, so they asked me to join and got rid of Syd…”
This, by the way, is also Gilmour’s comeback to my assertion that:
“It’s almost as if the Floyd, having loafed about half-seriously as the Architectural Abdabs [sic], garnered their personae from Barrett and, when he dropped out, for want of anything better to do, clung on to the momentum he provided.”
Says Gilmour: “By the time Syd left the ball had definitely stopped rolling. We had to start it all over again. `Saucerful of Secrets,` the first album without him, was the start back on the road to some kind of return. It was the album we began building from. The whole conception of `Saucerful of Secrets` has nothing to do with what Syd believed in or liked. We continued playing some of his songs because none of us was getting good enough material fast enough to be able to do without them.

“Which also, therefore, meant that I had to fit in with his style to an extent because his songs were so rigidly structured around it.
“Oh. And by the way, the band, when I joined, never ever said, `Play like Syd Barrett.` That was the very last thing they wanted!”
This had been part of a quote I’d happened across while writing up the original interview. It came courtesy of former Floyd manager Pete Jenner. It had appeared as part of M. Kent’s epic Syd Barrett piece last March and, to my knowledge, hadn’t been contested then. I presumed it to be accurate.
Another part of the same quote had claimed that Syd’s guitar technique of using slide and echo boxes was of his own invention. My quote had been: “The familiar slide and echo-boxes were purely of Syd’s invention” which, in retrospect was, perhaps, a bit strong. Gilmour, anyway, hotly denies this.

“Why didn’t you ask me about things like that during the interview?” he asks righteously indignant.”The facts of the matter are that I was using an echo-box years before Syd was. I also used slide. I also taught Syd quite a lot about guitar. I mean, people saying that I pinched his style when our backgrounds are so similar…yet we spent a lot of time together as teenagers listening to the same music. Our influences are probably pretty much the same – and I was a couple of streets ahead of him at the time and was teaching him to play Stones riffs every lunchtime for a year at technical college. That kind of thing’s bound to get my back up – especially if you don’t check it.”
“I don’t want to go into print saying that I taught Syd Barrett everything he knows, ‘cos it’s patently untrue, but there are one or two things in Syd’s style that I know came from me.”
In the original, I had prefaced these suggestions by intimating that as a guitarist Gilmour appears to lack any immediately identifiable personality. The word I used was ‘malleable’. He says he actually feels that such a word applied to his style(s) is a compliment. Most guitarists, he claims, are pretty narrow-minded, restricting their possible range of operations. In that case, he could be accused of spreading himself too thinly – i.e., capable of most things, but not particularly outstanding at any one thing. Or is that the way he’s intended it?

“No. But I work within my limitations. But then, whether I’m a good or bad guitarist isn’t really relevant. I mean, I try my damnedest to do my best, although certainly for the first half of the tour I was, well – rusty. I hadn’t played for a long time and my fingers were really stiff. But also I would say that I got very good by the time we were halfway through.”
And the accusation that from where you all stand it’s impossible for you to relate any more to the thoughts of the average punter?
“If you’re referring to that bit which says something about our `desperately bourgeois existances`?”…(The original quote – Kent`s – runs, “I can`t think of another rock group who live a more desperately bourgeois existence in the privacy of their own homes”.)
Well, I mean, how do you or he know how we live our lives? Apart from you – marginally – about me? Do you? Does Nick?He hasn’t been to any of our houses. He’s got absolutely no idea of how I spend my life apart from what you might have told him – and you don’t know how the others live. Do you think my life is so desperately bourgeois?
My house is not particularly grand. Have you seen Roger’s house? He lives in a five-grand terraced house in Islington. So I really can’t see how Kent can sit there and say things like that. He’s no idea of what he’s talking about.”

He does admit to a kind of laziness in the band, though. He’s also realistic about their individual instrumental prowess.
“In terms of musical virtuosity we’re really not anywhere I think; individual musicianship is well below par.”
And no, they’re not ‘bereft of ideas’ – just resting. And worrying about a follow-up to “Dark Side” which has, he claims,”trapped us creatively”. In passing, he says the lyrics are obvious intentionally.
“We tried to make them as simple and direct as possible and yet, as we were writing them, we knew they’d be misunderstood. We still get people coming up to us who think that `Money – it’s a gas` is a direct and literal statement that `we like money`.”
The point – a good one I thought – about the appeal of Floyd (and similar bands) being in some way associated with the rapid sophistication in stereo equipment is tossed out entirely.
“Six years ago,” says Gilmour impatiently, “we still sold albums and yet hardly anyone in this country had a stereo. It was all Dansettes then…”
And yet, from casual random sampling of friends with Floyd albums, invariably the first thing said is, ‘Oh, such and such track sounds great on my stereo.’ Surely this is a case of packaging to some extent taking priority over contents?
“No. That’s ridiculous. I suppose the same criticism would then apply to Stevie Wonder records?”

Well, as it happens… To Kent’s rather brilliant summing-up. The para. which starts, “OK boys, now this is really going to hurt”. If I may remind you: “What the two Floyd shows amounted to in the final analysis was not merely a kind of utterly morose laziness which is ultimately even more obnoxious than callow superstar “flash”, but a pallid excuse for creative music which comes dangerously close to the Orwellian mean for a facile, soulless music that would doubtless rule the air-waves and moreover be touted as fine art in the latter’s vision of 1984.”
“I mean,” he continued, “one can easily envisage a Floyd concert in the future consisting of the band simply wandering on stage, setting all their tapes into action, putting their instruments on remote control and then walking off behind the amps in order to talk about football or play billiards.”
“Personally,” Gilmour states stoically, “I don’t believe any of that rubbish about 1984.”
I really do.
“But I mean what difference is there between our sort of music and anyone else’s, apart from the fact that maybe most of the other bands just play music for the body? And they’re hardly progressive at all. Not that I think we’re wildly progressive either.”

But at it’s worst, a stage show like the Floyd’s only dulls an audience’s sensibilities even to the extent of sending them to sleep. Nothing is left for them to project their imagination into – it’s the difference between the holding power of a radio play and a TV play. And in any case, how does it feel to be part of a show where the audience doesn’t even give you a ripple for a good solo, yet applauds a bucket of dry ice every time?
“Yeah. That’s all part of the dramatic effect, isn’t it?”
And that’s a lame comeback.
“We went through a period where we blew out our entire light show for two years and there was no real difference. I personally know for a fact that it wouldn’t make any difference if we did it again. We’ve never been hyped. There’s been no great publicity campaign. It’s built up purely on the strength of gigs.
I don’t think we’re remotely close to that thing about tapes, do you?”

On the strength of the Wembley things, yes. You looked bored and dispirited.
“Not bored. Definitely dispirited. It gets very depressing when you’re fighting against odds like dud equipment. Energy soon flags. We weren’t pleased to do an encore because we didn’t deserve it.
“Why didn’t they say so, then? You know, don the olde showbiz Batcape?
“I’m not interested in disguising my feelings on stage with showbiz devices. I’ve seen hundreds of bands do that. Does anybody respect them? From what he writes, Nick Kent seems to believe in it all – the old thing of The Show Must Go On, Never Let The Public See Your Feelings and things like that.”
Wouldn’t the discipline of forcing just a little of that attitude on yourselves help in situations like that?
“No. When I’m standing there I’m conscious of trying to give the most I can,” sez Gilmour emphatically. “And I don’t need to have clean hair for that.”

I hate snakes, but this was quite an creative ad.  Never heard of the band.

I hate snakes, but this was quite an creative ad. Never heard of the band.

I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog.

This number of New Musical Express also contains articles/interviews with these people: Ace, Wally, Argent, Jan and Dean, Joni Mitchell, King Crimson, The Art Ensemble of Chicago.

The original music paper this article came from (pictured at the top) is for sale!

1. Send me an e-mail, if you are interested. Send it to:
2. The offer should be around or upwards of 20 $ (US Dollars) to be considered. (This includes postage).
3. We conduct the transaction through my verified Paypal account for the safety of both parties.