Piper at the Gates of Dawn by Pink Floyd.
If you accept my argument, which is that there are actually three bands called Pink Floyd (Barrett, Waters and Gilmour versions), then I guess it’s not really saying much, because their only other album, A Saucerful of Secrets, is a jumbled mess, the only noteworthy track being ‘Set The Controls for the Heart of the Sun’, which is largely due to the fact that although he was technically involved, Syd’s contribution was minimal. I still maintain that if the band had any decency they would have renamed themselves after Syd’s departure, but they didn’t so here we are.
If I’m forced to admit that Pink Floyd are in fact the same band throughout their 30-odd year history, then I would also have to admit that I do occasionally revist ‘Meddle’ and concede that it is really quite good. I also like bits of ‘Obscured By Clouds’ and ‘Ummagumma’, but everything from ‘Dark Side…’ onwards leaves me cold. And it’s not just a matter of taste, it’s the stench of guilt which hangs over work of this bunch of careerists, examples being the hypocritical lyric to ‘Money’, the cringworthy reference to ‘the lunatic’ in ‘Brain Damage’, and in particular the nauseating ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’. Obviously we now live in a much more enlightened age in terms of how we talk about mental illness, nevertheless when Syd was at his lowest point and desperately in need of help, they chose to instead to turn their backs and go for the money.
And yet, I would still consider myself a fan, and ‘Piper…’ is the sole reason why.