: Ron Geesin
: The Flaming Cow The Making of Pink Floyd's Atom Heart Mother
: The History Press
: 9780750951807
: 2
: CHF 12.50
:
: Pop, Rock
: English
: 120
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
'a fantastic read . . . witty and incredibly detailed' - Brain Damage By the late 1960s, popular British prog-rock group Pink Floyd were experiencing a creative voltage drop, so they turned to composer Ron Geesin for help in writing their next album.The Flaming Cow offers a rare insight into the brilliant but often fraught collaboration between the band and Geesin, the result of which became known as Atom Heart Mother - the title track from the Floyd's first UK number-one album. From the time drummer Nick Mason visited Geesin's damp basement flat in Notting Hill, to the last game of golf between bassist Roger Waters and Geesin, this book is an unflinching account about how one of Pink Floyd's most celebrated compositions came to life. Alongside photographs from the Abbey Road recording sessions and the subsequent performances in London and Paris, this new and updated edition of The Flaming Cow describes how the title was chosen, why Geesin was not credited on the record, how he left Hyde Park in tears, and why the group did not much like the work. Yet, more than fifty years on, Atom Heart Mother remains a much-loved record with a burgeoning cult status and an increasing number of requests for the score from around the world. It would appear there's still life in the Flaming Cow yet.

2


THE LITHE MEN COME


Pink Floyd and Ron Geesin had performed at several of the same venues, notably at the same event on the 29 April 1967, the Alexandra Palace14 Hour Technicolor Dream, and on separate occasions at Middle Earth (London), Mothers (Birmingham) and some universities, but had never met. You can already tell that our fields of interest differed, and I can tell you that our aims differed too. Of course there was the common ground of war-babies out to upset and explore, a bit like blackbirds scratching for apples in the snow and fighting half the time, and particularly to explore new media and methods through tape recorders and electronics. Another ‘small world’ event was that I had already encountered the man who was to become a large cog in the Pink Floyd machine, manager Steve O’Rourke, when I was still in the Original Downtown Syncopators and he was working for the Bryan Morrison Agency.

Ron at the score; engineer Peter Bown at the controls.

Pink Floyd and I were both in early but full flight in 1968. Leafing through my little diary for that year, I find that I recorded various waifs, strays and oddities from the contemporary folk and jazz scenes; performed live about 110 times, including in Stockholm; lectured at Portsmouth College of Art several times; was sound recordist for BBC’sChronicle series twice in the Orkneys; was sound recordist for an interview with Louis Armstrong at the Hammersmith Odeon; disturbed BBC Radio’sCountry Meets Folk twice; traumatised John Peel onNightride twice; composed and made the music for several TV commercials, including the first Kodak ‘Blinking Eye’, and for several short films; and edited backing tapes for Larry Adler’s one-man show. Yes, I even got to meet my former mouth organist idol, whose halo was soon swatted when he fell asleep on our rush matting floor while I sought to impress him with tape-editing wizardry.

Alternative career? No!

Brightening the dull but mild morning of 14 October 1968, Pink Floyd’s drummer Nick Mason paradiddled his lithe form down our steps at about 10 a.m. The meeting had been arranged by an acquaintance of his, Sam Jonas Cutler, who must have seen a few of my more local live eruptions and thought there was some common ground. Either that or it was, ‘Come and see a real nutter!’ and probably both. I have absolutely no recollection of whether Cutler came too, and no specific spotlit image of the meeting other than of a very nice chap with an enquiring demeanour moving lightly round the room with, ‘What’s this? What’s that?’ The proof that we did get on was that Frankie and I were invited to a party at his wife’s parents’ house near Godalming, Surrey, the very day after he and Lindy Rutter got married. After that, we met either singly or as two couples about ten times throughout 1969. Lindy was particularly interested in modern dance and at least one of those meeting