Showing posts with label pink floyd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pink floyd. Show all posts

Friday, April 19, 2013

Storm Thorgerson 1944-2013

Last night it was announced that Storm Thorgerson, one of the founders of the legendary Hipgnosis design studio, had died at the age of 69.

Thorgerson was, like most of the creatives that surrounded the Pink Floyd, a contemporary and peer of the band, attending the same school as Syd Barrett and Roger Waters as well as being a childhood friend of David Gilmour. In fact Hipgnosis (which he founded with Aubrey 'Po' Powell) got their first break by designing the Floyd's second album sleeve: A Saucerful of Secrets.


The plaudits are (rightly) pouring in, although there are certain caveats which probably need to be made clear before we all descend into mass adulation. Thorgerson was probably, above all, a man whose wit and erudition found a channel in the visual puns and sleight of hand which cropped up in his design work, especially the photographic kind. It's wonderfully dated now, but Hipgnosis' work on the repackaging of the Floyd's first two albums in the early '70s as A Nice Pair really sums up the stoner hilarity that permeates their early work, filled, as it is, with a host of punnery, alongside some period sexism.



The early work he and Powell did for the posh proggers was always tip top, and more importantly of a much higher quality than bands had been used to up until that point. using top photographers and graphic artists (especially the criminally underrated George Hardie who actually drew the Dark Side of the Moon cover) meant that their work always stood out, even if it was sometimes wonderfully oblique. My favourite from this period is probably their cover for Atom Heart Mother. can there be a more iconic bovine?



From these early days onwards this was a design studio that, if they could get the concept accepted by the band, would utilise a budget to the max. Take a look at this old fave for The Nice - Elegy. This was shot in the Sahara with actual blow-up beach balls, with the production assistant walking backwards along the crest of the dune so there wouldn't be footprints (allegedly if you look closely you can see where he's fallen over right at the end in the distance).



By all accounts, Thorgerson was a larger than life character who quite obviously had a sense of humour. Another favourite from the late '70s is the cover Hipgnosis did for XTC's second album, Go2. The meta humour perfectly reflects the band's clever-dick approach to 'new wave' and, to this day, still makes me laugh.



He wasn't afraid of controversy either. Can you imagine ANYONE getting away with the sleeve for Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy these days?



Yesterday's Guardian obit brought out Douglas Adams' famous quote that Storm was 'the best album designer in the world' (Hipgnosis designed early covers for Adams too), although I fear that the constant deification of Adams along with the unconditional love showered on Hipgnosis and the Floyd by several generations of young people may skew the picture somewhat.

Thorgerson undoubtedly played a pivotal role in the way in which we regard commercial art - not only in his work but also through his publications of collections of other sleeve art - but often (especially in later years) his work tended to lapse into cod-surrealism with somewhat trite plays on words or phrases. As striking as these polished images could be they often lacked the subtlety and obliqueness that kept my generation staring at the cardboard sleeves for HOURS. After Wish You Were Here Thorgerson found a style that he often stuck to far too rigidly.



Also Hipgnosis' work quite often seemed at odds with the music contained within. It took me years to accept that Going For The One by Yes was a good album, simply because I was so disappointed that the band had rejected their own pet designer, Roger Dean. That naked man against clean, totalitarian modernism? Urgh...



But in the end Storm Thorgerson was, and should remain, a legend in terms of record sleeve design. Everyone, from Dean to Vaughan Oliver owes him a debt. And if I were to pick my own absolute favourite of his sleeves, I wouldn't pick DSOTM or even that lovely cow, I'd pick Peter Gabriel's debut album. For years I wanted a car THAT colour. It's enigmatic, slightly creepy and the car also hints at the slight Americanisation that Gabriel got into his music at that point. In other words, it's perfect.







Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Little Things That Mean So Much pt1


A rather obscure, some may even say 'anal' one this. But listening to the Pink Floyd (as one does) the other day reminded me of something I've been meaning to do for a loooong time: start cataloguing the tiny, almost imperceptible things that make a record retain its place in your heart. I'm talking about those inexplicable noises, glitches and boinks that somehow, in some way make you love them even more than you should. For some reason these imperfections, whether they be deliberate or no, weld the public to the personal. It's actually one of the reasons that a vast quantity of music these days is UNlovable. The bottled, freeze-dried rebellion of guitar rock these days, processed to an inch of its life, may be loud or intricate, but it has an unrelenting purposefulness to it all. If Green Day want you to know that they're signifying loud and snotty it will come packaged with a guitar sound that came box fresh off the effects rack. There's a track on the first Ramones album where you can HEAR the speaker cones collapsing under the assault. The two are totally different beasts. But this isn''t a rant about how digital technology has stolen the soul of modern music. If you use your brain you can still introduce the elements of both randomness and mystery. No, this is about those tiny moments that make a record special. Contributions and suggestions as always welcomed.
Here's five to start with:

Pink Floyd - Remember A Day (A Saucerful Of Secrets 1968)
Point of interest: 2'40''

Syd Barrett's last hurrah with his old band. He plays the eery slide (with the obligatory ciggy lighter, natch). Over the rolling toms of Norman Smith (not Nick '4/4' Mason) Syd's wayward runs up and down the neck turn Rick Wright's rather lovely English psych classic into something far darker. Quite right too. But as the last echoes of his solo fade, to be replaced by a fuzz drone, we hear... something. A guitar being unplugged? Syd leaving the building in search of his marbles? Who knows. But it's a great clunk.

Brian Eno - Julie With (before And After Science 1977)
Point of interest: 1'15''

There's million Eno moments that endear the bald one to all right-thinking folk. But this was always my fave. From one of my personal top three Eno albums. It takes its own sweet time to come floating in, like the boat holding the titular Julie (there's a whole essay to be written about Eno's connection with water, rivers and the sea). And over some lovely backwards keyboards, sighing guitar and pulsing bass, resembling a warning buoy rolling in through some fog, comes the tolling of a bell. Bells are pretty evocative things at the best of times. But this one is the best. Ever.
It comes back at 3'33'' btw.


Gong - A Sprinkling Of Clouds
(You 1975)
Point of interest: 8'42''

The last of the 'Radio Gnome' trilogy and the one where the band precariously balance some extended freak outs with Daevid Allen's penchant for quirkier stuff. This track ending the original side one has always been a big favourite (you should also check out the live version on the reunion gig album, 'Gong Est Mort'). Beginning with a glissando, synthesizer, tabla and bass raga, at the four minute mark it becomes a odd-metered fusion work out that transports you every time into the ether blah blah...
But representing the return to earthly hell at around the five minute mark is some fierce guitar wrangling from Steve Hillage which eventually dumps you on some desolate shore with only some drones and pan pipes for company. Then inexplicably we hear a buzzer and some bells in quick succession. It's an incongruous jolt which seems to signify 'your time on the planet of the Pot Head Pixies is OVER' Goodness knows why, but there it is. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Webb Brothers - Powder Pale (Maroon - 2000)
Point of interest: 0'59''

From the bruvvers' way underrated album that's all about how nasty a drug cocaine is. A song about a girlfriend od'ing? Who knows. But to reflect the tragic, empty space that coke fiends inhabit all the songs on this album come with a string-assisted grandiosity that's at once beautiful and terrible. Beginning with the orchestra and grand piano, it's like the ELO, well... on coke. Then as the vocals come in over a metronomic drum machine tick describing the girl turning, yes, powder pale, you suddenly hear the guitar getting all cranked up to burst loose over the recurring theme. Its impressive because it really signals the intention to get overblown, it sounds fucking amazing and ragged. And it may be the only song I know where the chorus has no words. Clever boys. Wonder where they got it from? (addendum: if anyone says that the chunks at the beginning of the chorus of Creep by Radiohead are better, they're wrong.)

Dusty Springfield - Just A Little Lovin' (Dusty In Memphis - 1969)
Point of interest: 0'07''

Yes, just seven seconds not only into the song but the album itself comes this beauty. The first time I heard it I was amazed. How could such a pinnacle of performance, songwriting and production be flawed? It's an almost comical guitar plink (is that you, Reggie Young?) that, for some unknown reason, made it past the ears of both Jerry Wexler AND Arif Mardin. maybe they recorded it live and it was far and away the best take, but boy, it always makes me laugh. And it also makes me love this wonderful, grown up slice of blue-eyed, southern-fried soul even more.
Go on, dig out your copy now and have a laugh...

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Syd RIP

Just heard the news about the sad demise of Roger Keith 'Syd' Barrett, psychedelic explorer, childhood hero and...oh fuck it, I can't go on with a eulogy in this type of forum. Within hours the blogosphere will be filled with tributes by 20 year old whippersnappers from Italy about 'ze genius madcap. Shine on...etc etc' and none will come close to WHY this man was special. And why I'm so sad about his passing...
Let's face it, he was deeply disturbed and didn't want our attention for most of his life. But for a very brief coupla years Syd made this world a better place. Piper At The Gates Of Dawn has remained in my top 5 albums of all time since I first heard it at about the age of 13. I'm so old I can just remember seeing the Floyd on Top Of The Pops when I was 7, doing See Emily Play. Even at that age I knew it was better than most things. Syd was one of the very first stars who proved you didn't have to sing in a fake American accent. He was Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll and the Tibetan Book of the Dead rolled into one totally English psychedelic experience. Without him there would be no David Bowie, Julian Cope, Kevin Ayers or Andy Partridge. His guitar-playing influenced such luminaries as Daevid Allen and Fred Frith. And me ;-)
His solo albums were semi-baked documents of weary doom and bewilderment, but still completely original and precious.
I'm too sad to write much more. When I was a teenager I wanted to be him. Now I just hope he's at peace. Bye Syd...

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

A whale of a time...

Last night, myself and EBP set the controls for the heart of Leicester Square to witness the premiere of Da Pink Floyd's Pulse DVD at the Vue cinema. Normally the prospect of an hour and a half of the Cambridge hippies in late-period (Division Bell tour) mode wouldn't have tempted us, but there was the added bonus of seeeing three of the (ahem) boys in a Q&A after the showing. Huzzah! Here was our chance to find out exactly how Nick Mason's drumming lessons are going and whether David 'don't call me Dave' Gilmour was still partial to the odd jazz ciggy.
Truth be told the screening was actually quite diverting, with the band opting wisely to show the entire Dark Side section of the show. I must admit that the rendition of the 'Great Gig In The Sky' left me with a small tear of emotion in my eye. That Sam Brown - she's got a lovely voice. Or maybe it was the free beer and the 5.1 re-mix that was doing it.
Anyhow, on shuffled DavID, Nick and Rick. Nick, fresh from his stint as traitorous scum with ol' Grumpy Roger in Hyde Park two days previous was obviously the butt of some private jokes between the other two - but on the whole it was damn entertaining. They wryly fielded ludicrous questions from mad Belgians and dullard journos in those plummy public school voices and quote of the evening came from Big Dave as someone asked where they could get one of Storm Thorgerson's giant eyeballs that grace the cover of the DVD (and were perched either side of the stage). Without missing a beat Gilmour said - "They were plucked from the eye of a blue whale". Nice...careful with that spliff, David.