Published on Jul 11, 2005
In a sense,
Ummagumma can be seen as a disc which was supposed to close
a period of Pink Floyd’s history. Summing up the first few years of
the band’s history with their first live release, and having a
studio disc tacked on which allowed each member of the band to
explore their own musical patterns, this was, according to
All-Music Guide, one of the band’s best-selling discs for
years.
But it would also be incorrect to say that
Ummagumma marked the end of Pink Floyd’s psychedelic side in
terms of album releases. True, they were still a few years away
from their breakthrough disc
The Dark Side Of The Moon, or even
Meddle, but there was still a bit more musical weirdness to
expect from the Floyd before they almost became an AOR band.
I’ve owned this record for well over a decade, and despite
numerous listenings over the years,
Ummagumma is still a record which both delights and
confounds me. It all depends on which portion I listen to at a
certain stage in my life, and the answer never seems to be the same
twice. Something tells me that the casual listener will find this
disc a bit too much to take, while someone who has dabbled in
pre-1973 Floyd will understand things a little more.
The live disc is made up of a whole four songs, the most notable
probably being “Astronomy Domine,” which loses little of its luster
in the live setting. Even without Syd Barrett, there is enough
spaciness in the performance of this track to keep the memory of
his presence alive. Likewise, “Set The Controls For The Heart Of
The Sun” drifts off a little too much into the ether, but Roger
Waters and crew do have the power to reel it back in without losing
a lot of the song’s power.
The same can’t quite be said for the other two tracks. “Careful
With That Axe, Eugene” is a bizarre trip that doesn’t really seem
to go anywhere – and, if you listen closely enough, you could
almost swear that Aerosmith copped their guitar licks for “Living
On The Edge” from this one. Likewise, “A Saucerful Of Secrets” just
doesn’t seem to translate as well in the live setting as it did in
the studio – though I’m willing to concede that maybe seeing it
performed in the flesh would have made things a bit clearer.
Of the four musicians’ contributions on the studio disc, is it
really any surprise that Waters and guitarist Dave Gilmour provide
the most clear efforts? Waters’s two tracks, “Grantchester Meadows”
and the trippy “Several Species Of Small Furry Animals Gathered
Together In A Cave And Grooving With A Pict,” almost show the
direction that Pink Floyd would be going in the mid-’70s, and are
most enjoyable. (I liked putting on the latter track in the last
few weeks just to piss off my wife – nothing like hearing what
sounds like squirrels on acid eminating from the speakers to get a
toaster hurled at your head.) As for Gilmour, if there were ever
any doubt about his abilities as a guitar player or songwriter, the
three-song suite “The Narrow Way” removes all doubt.
Richard Wright’s four-song suite “Sysyphus” tries to be a magnum
opus, but after the overture, it seems to dissolve into just so
much noodling on the keyboards. If the mess of keyboard scrunches
was supposed to illustrate the myth of Sysyphus pushing the boulder
up the hill for eternity, well, mission failed. Likewise, Nick
Mason’s three-song suite “The Grand Vizier’s Garden Party” starts
off strongly, but turns into almost a collection of sound effects,
and doesn’t really serve its purpose very well.
If I’m so critical of
Ummagumma, how come I continue to dust it off on a regular
basis and slap it onto the turntable? Truth is, I dunno. As much as
I am critical about certain aspects of this release, there is
something that draws me back to it time and time again to give
things another shot. Or maybe it’s the animals in the cave calling
to me. Either way, approach this one with caution.