Pink Floyd – 1965-1967: Cambridge St/ation (The Early Years 1965-1972, Volume 1)

8.0 – England – 1965-1967/2016

And so I complete my reviews of Pink Floyd’s Early Years boxed sets with this, the first instalment in the series. Not being a huge fan of the Syd Barrett period – particularly in comparison to the middle period documented by the other volumes in this series – this was the last volume I purchased. I won’t bother going into an explanation here of why I feel the Syd Barrett era is somewhat overrated, but nonetheless, this set does include some absolutely essential tracks that fill in some of the gaps in the Pink Floyd discography.

The first disc comprises a number of tracks recorded in 1965 when the group was known as the Tea Set. While it is interesting to hear an embryonic Floyd (featuring the Pete-Best-analog Rado Klose on rhythm guitar as well as the future Mrs. Rick Wright, Juliette Gale, on backing vocals on one track), the songs themselves are fairly uninteresting British attempts at R&B (the cover of Slim Harpo’s “I’m A King Bee” is the best of the bunch), though it is kind of neat to hear a more American sound to the group’s work – particularly Barrett’s vocals – given that one of the chief innovations of the early Floyd is the unapologetically English sound.

Indeed, this very English sound – particularly in the vocals – is perfectly demonstrated in the two early hits – and non-album singles – “Arnold Layne” and “See Emily Play” which encapsulate the sound and feel of the late 60s London psychedelic scene. (A whole essay – perhaps even a book – could be written on the comparison of American and British psychedelia: whereas American groups were more geared towards radical social change, British psychedelia, being a more explicitly bourgeois movement, tended to be more inward-looking, gravitating more towards whimsical memories of innocence and childhood. It is my contention that no-one epitomized this more than Syd Barrett and the early Pink Floyd). In any event, these singles (including the less successful “Apples And Oranges” as well as the b-sides “Candy And A Current Bun” and Rick Wright’s underrated “Paintbox”) are presented in remastered versions of their original mono mixes. When “Arnold Layne”, “See Emily Play”, and “Paintbox” were included on the 1971 compilation Relics, they were rendered into false stereo (the most recent remastered edition of Relics restores the mono mixes).

But whereas the early singles are given in their original forms, the rest of the first disc is rounded out with stereo remixes of three outtakes from the tale end of the Barrett period. So the story goes, before being dismissed from the band, Barrett recorded three last songs. One of these, “Jugband Blues” was included on the transitional A Saucerful of Secrets album, whereas the other two “Vegetable Man” and “Scream Thy Last Scream” were deemed “too disturbing” for release and were left for the bootleggers (though I’d argue that “Jugband Blues” is a much more harrowing exploration of Barrett’s madness). “Vegetable Man”, supposedly a self-portrait of Barrett’s insanity, unfortunately, does not live up to the expectations of its metanarrative, but “Scream Thy Last Scream”, which features a Nick Mason lead vocal backed by a sped-up chipmunk-like Barrett, is indeed quite the ride, at turns hilarious while also disturbing in its unhingedness. Either way, it’s about time these tracks were properly available, along with the unfinished instrumental “In The Beechwoods” and remixes of “Jugband Blues” and the Piper track “Matilda Mother”. I assume that these last two songs – presented here in new remixes – are included because all of these tracks were on the same tape and the producers figured that they might as well remix them all. That said, while “Jugband Blues” does sound better that its original mix – the “crazy” middle-section is a lot clearer – it’s hardly a revelation (and raises the same questions about remixing that I mentioned in the Obfusc/ation review). I haven’t really done a comparison between this version of “Matilda Mother” and the original album release (I’m not even sure if it’s the same recording).

The second disc consists of a live concert recorded in Stockholm in late 1967 as well as a series of avant-garde recordings made in collaboration with the conceptual artist John Latham. The concert is very good and, except for the fact that the vocals were “recorded at a less than optimal level” (ie. more or less inaudible), is of surprisingly good audio quality. The set list is a mix of extended psychedelic jams and shorter, actual songs. Naturally, especially given the lack of vocals, the jams work better, particularly the improvised opener “Reaction In G” (at the end Roger Waters is heard to quip, “Well, nobody else is ever going to hear that again”). Also of note is an early version of future signature song “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun” featuring Syd Barrett. The John Latham recordings that take up the second half of the second disc are fucking unlistenable (and inexplicably banded, seemingly at random, into nine “version” even though it’s pretty much just half an hour of so of random, uninteresting noises).

The video component is perhaps less generous than some of the other instalments (which makes sense given the early provenance of this material). As expected, there is an assortment of promotional videos (with remastered audio) for the twee singles as well as the mandatory clips of psych freakouts of varying intensity. The highlight is a BBC appearance featuring a performance of “Astronomy Domine” along with a very hostile interview with a string-quartet fan who objected to the Floyd’s volume and repetition (Roger Waters and a lucid Syd Barrett more than hold their own with the stuffy, self-important presenter). There’s also a pleasant, groovy instrumental that was recorded for a Tomorrow’s World segment on the future of music presentation (ie. liquid light shows).

In the end, despite my relative lack of enthusiasm for the Barrett-period (only in comparison to the later Floyd), this set more than justifies its existence and even if some tracks – the “Jugband Blues” and “Mathilda Mother” remixes – are of questionable value for inclusion on a rarities and outtakes compilation and the John Latham “versions” are a waste of soundwaves, the remainder of the material here is of paramount historic and aesthetic value.

While I’m here, I might as well address two more releases in this series: When these boxed-sets were first released all together, they included an exclusive seventh volume: Continu/ation which collects material that was not deemed of sufficient quality to be included on the other sets. On the one hand, it’s frustrating that some stuff was held back to justify the grossly inflated price of the complete set: individual sets sell on average for, say, $50 each, so that the lot could be acquired à la carte for $300 and change, whereas the massive boxed set trades well north of $500, the extra expense presumably justified by the inclusion of vinyl reissues of the early singles, some more memorabilia (a scarf, I think?) and the Continu/ation volume. Upon, ahem, acquiring that volume (or at least just its audio material), I was pleased to discover that I wasn’t missing all that much. Mostly, it consists of early BBC sessions of exceptionally poor audio quality. The only tracks of genuine note are “Moonhead” – the Floyd provided the backing music for the BBC coverage of the moon landing – and a 1974 live version of “Echoes”. This last one certainly does exceed the scope of the set by virtue of its recording date (parts of the same concert were included in certain editions of the remastered Dark Side Of The Moon), but it’s a very fine performance indeed, complete with female backing vocals (although I’m not sure about the sax solo). I haven’t been able to view the video material, but it’s presumably of dubious value due to poor quality. Also included are the complete films More and La Vallée for which the Floyd provided film scores, but no-one really wants to see those films.  At the end of the day, the very existence of the Continu/ation is somewhat annoying in its exclusivity and, outside of those two tracks mentioned above, it’s pretty much unlistenable, so I’ll give it a score of 4.5.

Lastly, for those put-off by the prospect of a 33-disc compilation of outtakes, rarities, and live cuts, the group put out The Early Years 1967-1972: Cre/ation, a two disc distillation of highlights from the sets. Now, Pink Floyd seem to be fundamentally unable to properly anthologize their back catalogue, and this compilation is no exception. Naturally some tracks are no-brainers for inclusion – the early singles, even if they are already available on Relics, and it’s nice to see “Point Me At The Sky” included. But of all the versions of “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”, they include the two least interesting ones: the tame studio version (also already available on Relics) and the slightly-acoustic version from the 1969 BBC session (which is represented in its entirety here, whereas nothing – not even the stellar extended “Fat Old Sun” – is included from 1971). Given the omissions (no “Reaction in G”, no extended “Cymbaline”), it’s also frustrating that disc space is wasted on material already easily available (the remixes of “Mathilda Mother” and “Jugband Blues” are included as are three tracks from Obscured By Clouds, none of which is “Mudmen”). And they picked the slightly dull “In The Beechwoods” over “Scream Thy Last Scream”. And none of Rick Wright’s gorgeous “Love Scene” versions from Zabriskie Point. Whatever. At least they have the 1969 BBC session of “Green Is The Colour”. So, I don’t know, let’s say, 7.0 for Cre/ation: it’s still very good, but not as good as it perhaps could have been.

In sum, my trainspotter criticisms of these sets really just show how enormously happy I am that this material is now available (and I was able to shelve my sketchy-sounding, but still beloved bootlegs of the band’s BBC sessions). I may object to the presentation (perhaps it would have been better to have included these tracks along with their respective albums, with the Zabriskie Point sessions and the live concerts put out as stand-alone releases), but, ultimately, despite the unevenness between instalments (to me, Dramatis/ation and Devi/ation tower above the other years), this method was probably the best way to go about it. So a massive shout-out to Nick Mason who, I understand, was the driving force behind this project. You earned that playtime in your Ferraris!