Completion. I have now finished reading my little book on Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Remarks=many and varied. My style up to this moment=terse. No further.
So, I’m fairly certain I would not like this album if I had not read the 33 1/3 about it, by John Cavanagh. But that, combined with listening to it four times through in quick succession (certain tracks more times than that) has really allowed it to captivate me. Knowing the deep story behind the individual tracks and album as a whole was a distinct advantage. The only way I can imagine replicating that advantage for a different album is to read more of the 33 1/3 series, which I intend to do. Unfortunately, Amazon ratings on the series tend to vary widely, so it may be a hit-or-miss sort of thing.
John Cavanagh was an effective author for this piece. He inserted himself into the narrative, but in very candid and immediate ways. He describes his childhood confrontations with the songs on the album and his initial interpretations. This is key because of the childlike innocence and love of whimsy Syd Barrett infuses his music and lyrics with. I certainly encourage anyone listening to the album to have a Firefox window/tab devoted to displaying the lyrics so that you can appreciate the whimsy in all its glory.
The only issue I had with the writing was the significant number of digressions. At first they were short and quite interesting, but then they became slightly overwhelming and got in the way of the structure. The two primary chapters, “Side One” and “Side Two,” go through the tracks one by one, but in “Side Two” there are too many side discussions of the live performances they took part in—more than just providing a context for the pieces. “Side One” is perfect, because the few asides are very organic and short.
Overall, it was an excellent experience, going through and listening to the very things I was reading about. It also made me feel justified for liking Syd Barrett, even if the genesis of that affection was due to the spelling of his name.
Things I learned: The reason they played long, improvisational songs: “‘When they were playing at The Marquee, they were booked in for longer than they had a set. In order to get paid properly, they had to play longer. They extended their songs in a rambling kind of fashion and it turned out very popular and got more people!’”—Storm Thorgerson (cool name) (pg. 9). Also interesting, the quality of musicianship. Apparently, fairly low. Of Roger Waters, by Peter Jenner, “‘Roger was musically inept and had to be helped along. Not in a condescending way, I think it’s amazing how he was able to pick up and take the band after Syd left, given his musical realities. I think he did fantastically to eventually become a singer and a songwriter and the quality of the songs he wrote. I mean, absolutely, hats off to him.’” (64). Also, their drummer, Nick Mason, apparently couldn’t figure out how to do a drumroll, so their producer had to do it for him.
I don’t repeat that with any spirit of condescension, (especially since I don’t play the drums at all, and certainly can’t play a drumroll) but more out of awe and respect. It made me want to learn how to play the guitar almost as much as seeing Dinosaur Jr. live. Think what they did with the skills of amateurs and it can give anyone hope.
I quite liked the organization, actually going through song by song and talking about the production and evolution of each. I’m not familiar enough with the 33 1/3 series to know if that is a staple, but it probably ought to be.
For me, the best song on the whole thing is “Lucifer Sam,” especially when that surfy-sounding guitar kicks in. I love the refrain of “That cat’s something I can’t explain,” and it fits so very well with Syd’s vocals. I’ve already described my appreciation of “The Gnome” and “Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk,” but they aren’t the best songs on the album by far.
“Scarecrow” was redeemed by the book, which focused on the longing and darkness of the lyrics. As a song, I don’t adore it, but lyrically it is compelling in its portrayal of the loneliness of an inanimate object. It might be a better poem.
I feel like “Astronomy Domine” and “Interstellar Overdrive” are an inseparable pair. Their titles both suggest a fascination with the void of space, and both successfully invoke a sort of spaciness in their instrumentals. Each one introduces a side of the album, and it’s an excellent way to segue into the weirdness that is Piper. I am personally more partial to “Interstellar Overdrive,” but it’s kind of tiring to listen to.
The album is quite good, though it isn’t in my top ten (I do have a literal running top ten). I’ve really learned to love it, thanks to this book. I wish all albums came with long books detailing their creation and providing massive amounts of context (even though I probably wouldn’t read them, just like I don’t watch the special features for movies) so I could love them just as much.
As for Flickr, my misadventures with it began two or three days ago. I went to get a Flickr account, and was displeased to learn I needed a yahoo account to sign in. So I got a yahoo e-mail account that I am never going to use, but still have to remember the password for. Then I had to sign up for Flickr separately, which is kind of silly if they are so connected that I can’t use my school e-mail or gmail account to sign up for it.
But this was only the first moment of frustration, as I desperately spent the next two hours struggling to post a picture to Tumblr. This, however, was not anyone’s fault but mine. I happen to be computer illiterate, a bit Amish, if you will. I still haven’t figured out how to add a picture to a text post, but was advised to use the caption of the picture post as a text post. As I’m in media res, I have yet to see how well it works.
Some closing words that ring for me, as the son of a professor: “‘If you had a light, it didn’t matter whether there was a window, so long as you could read your book! If you’re brought up in an academic world, you tend to create your own space as a child. The imaginary world is your saving grace.’”—Matthew Scurfield on Syd Barrett’s childhood (49 Cavanagh).
“Music seems to help the pain/ Seems to cultivate the brain”—lyrics to “Take up Thy Stethoscope and Walk,” from (http://www.pink-floyd-lyrics.com/html/take-stethoscope-piper-lyrics.html).
Sincerely,
Spencer Miles Kimball
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