Review of Pink Floyd's Ummagumma

Released 1969

"Lime and limpid green, a second scene
A fight between the blue you once knew.
Floating down, the sound resounds
Around the icy waters underground.
Jupiter and Saturn, Oberon, Miranda and Titania.
Neptune, Titan, Stars can frighten".

Ummagumma was my eight Pink Floyd album. Like many, I started with the well established seventies classics; The Dark Side Of The Moon, Wish You Were Here et al, before working backwards - pre- TDSOTM - through Meddle and Atom Heart Mother, until I reached Ummagumma. Thus, I was fairly confident before making this purchase, that I already owned all of their best works. Both Meddle and Atom Heart Mother had moments of genuine brilliance, charm and sufficient quality to warrant many, many repeated listens over the years, but I felt that they both paled when compared to TDSOTM, being obvious warm-ups as the band evolved to the peak.

I had heard several views regarding Ummagumma; not many of them good. Eccentric, odd, eclectic, experimental and really not very good at all were among the kindest of these views. Nevertheless, it was clear that I was destined to own the entire Pink Floyd catalogue, therefore experiencing Ummagumma was necessity, but never a duty.

I'd picked up second hand copies on numerous occasions and had loved Hipgnosis's work, the idea of the bands' tour instruments lain out on the runway and the general seventies 'vibe' as detailed by the greasy hair, loon pants and typography. Tremendous stuff which whetted my appetite greatly.

Fortunately, when it came to my first airing of Ummagumma, I choose the live record as my preferred opening option. I have since read that John Peel cited the gig where these tracks were recorded was one of his favourites. I could quickly see why.

Where I could see a common developmental thread running through Atom Heart, Meddle and The Dark Side Of The Moon, the linkage was not so immediately apparent with this more obviously psychedelic jamming.

It hadn't occurred to me that Syd Barrett's influence would cast such a substantial shadow across this work. In addition, the keyboard sound was fundamentally different to later works, really emphasising the hugely underrated part Rick Wright's playing had as the 'glue' which made the Floyd sound work. Of course, the largest contrast between the Pink Floyd which recorded Ummagumma and say, Wish You Were Here, is the paradigm shift that took place in the lyrical content, mostly, of course, with respect to Roger Waters. Lyrics are certainly of secondary importance on Ummagummma: on Astronomy Domine they are - and I mean this respectfully - no better than sixth form noodlings, which work within the context of the meandering space rock instrumentation, while on Careful With That Axe Eugene - other than the whispered words of the title - lyrics have no presence at all. I had heard and seen this latter track on the Pompeii video a year or two previously, but was still startled when I noticed the hair standing up on my arms as Roger's terrifyingly primal shrieking cut through my headphones. It came as no surprise to me to learn that they were greatly in demand for film scores around this time; incredible atmospherics.

I would loved to have witnessed a live performance of Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun, due to it's poetry and majesty; a perfect exercise in restraint and simplicity. The fourth and last live track, A Saucerful Of Secrets similarly is a model example of space rock at it's best. The careers of both Hawkwind and Nektar can surely be traced to this track: otherworldly and heavily influenced by narcotics and nonsensical repetitive rhythms wandering through the outer reaches.

So far, so good. Very different to later albums, but with some obvious strengths and demonstrating very clear prog credentials.

But then, to the studio album. What a strange, beguiling frustrating beast this is.

I was surprised to read quite recently that Ummagumma is the favourite album of Porcupine Tree's Steven Wilson. Perhaps my tastes are less cultured than Mr Wilsons: I can, from the very first listen hear brilliance and beauty through the complex structures of a Van Der Graaf Generator or Dream Theatre album, but I cannot, despite repeated attempts, hear much deserving of praise in any way shape or form within the studio tracks of Ummagumma. Sysyphus starts promisingly with epic chords and magisterial twinkling of the ivories, but descends, by the third part into what sounds uncannily like a rat being strangled inside a grand piano in the depths of a cold cavern. Amidst the peculiar percussion, there are many prog rock credentials , but, for each promising interlude, there is the death throes of a rodent and the sound of far too much freedom being given to each of the musicians to indulge themselves to an unparalleled degree.

Granchester Meadows - Roger Waters effort - continues the animal noise theme with far too prominent bird song effects played over his Cat Stevens / Leonard Cohen phrased pastoral folk tinged tune. Could this dirge really be written by the same man, who, just four years later wrote lyrics which, to this day, although I have heard them a thousand times, make me weep at the beauty and profundity of his timeless lyrics? How could this be possible? I was musing on this further as Several Species... began. This is literally five minutes of the sound of animals squeaking followed by the drunken ramblings of a Scottish person. This has to be the most awful rubbish ever committed to vinyl. Sorry Rog. Beyond repproach.

David Gilmour's The Narrow Way is almost bearable after Several Species... but not quite. Again, the first two parts are self indulgent bilge with little merit. There are glimpses of hope in the final part, with the band playing as one: the sum of the parts being so much more than the individual efforts.

The Grand Vizier's Garden Party could have been brilliant. After all, there was a great deal of focus on Nick Mason at Pompeii to which this is very contemporary, where he was very effective. But here, for the most part, he falls into the same trap as his cohorts: long, repetitive and ultimately pointless.

In subsequent years, I, like many others have spent many enjoyable hours replaying the live album, while the studio album is brought out for the occasional - 'can it really be that dreadful: surely there must be something I'm missing, it's Pink Floyd for goodness sake!!' - type airing. Sadly, for me at least, my opinion has yet to be shaken. I will persevere though. Although, as a rule, I don't include ratings as part of my reviews, on this occasion, I feel compelled to give the live tracks a commendable 8/10 and the studio tracks an execrable 3/10.