What remains fascinating about these early albums from Pink Floyd is the band’s dismissal of them. David Gilmour has rarely spoken positively of Ummagumma, while Roger Waters has dubbed the early years as “amateurish”. Both men may speak the truth, but there is beauty in the moments of unsuspecting creativity. Their work on soundtracks and lengthy, progressive rock features remain fascinating. More, technically their third album, albeit one made for the film of the same name, puts the band’s skill under the spotlight. Waters would have us believe there is an amateurish sway to these moments, and while he speaks the truth about these early moments, there is still much to love about this post-A Saucerful of Secrets release. It marks the first release without Syd Barrett, ousted from the group, which would take a wildly different sound. More puts the band to the test.
They persevere by finding a strict hashing out of the roles. Waters writes most of these songs, Gilmour adds a vocal performance where needed, and the band comes together well in the instrumental moments on the B-side. What begins as a calming album, much needed peace which the band would often use in the moments before a storm of instrumental brilliance, becomes a tremendously patient experience. Those softer moments, the organs and lucid-like qualities of opening song Cirrus Minor, are just waiting to explode into the progressive rock tone we know and love from the band. But it never comes, not on this opener. It is in service of the soundtrack and, as a result, is free to throw itself to calm extremes or instrumentally heavy moments, as second song The Nile Song offers. An incredible piece, a full flow explosion of rock, gritty and effective, to say the least. Fans of Pink Floyd may turn to Wish You Were Here or Animals as examples of the band at their very best, but the comedown heard on More, even if it is a soundtrack album, is magnificent.
More is a reaction not just to Barrett’s removal but an antidote to his more full-on psychedelic sound. There is still experimentation at play, the wild noise of Up the Khyber and its improvisational, jazz-like quality has drummer Nick Mason to thank. Lyrically, there may not be much More can offer, but that was never the purpose. Instrumentally sound moments, often delightful and light. Playful creations from a band who were just three years out from making some of the most powerful rock work. What serves Pink Floyd well here is the lack of attachment to the film. There is an expectation from the band to capture the counterculture revolution which takes place in the Barbet Schroeder film, and they achieve this.
But what Pink Floyd also maintains is an independence from the specifics of More. In their soundtrack work they find liberation not just for the lead characters but from the genre. They transition out of psychedelic rock into a longer-form style of experimentation. With the breakup of The Beatles occurring less than a year later, there was something in the air around the turn of the century for UK-based music. A sense of change which would see Pink Floyd lead the charge. There was no way of knowing it at the time, but More does suggest a band of phenomenal importance, of terrifying quality. They prove as much with More, a delightful soundtrack album whose influence and impact on the band are far more important than the sum of its parts.
