At his age, 78-year-old Nick Mason could be forgiven for wanting to spend more time with his cars, or counting his money. But in one of the more unexpected Heritage Prog moves of recent years, he’s chosen to go on the road to celebrate Pink Floyd’s early psychedelic era – especially the work of the late Syd Barrett, for whom he retains a great deal of affection (“Without him, none of us would be here,” he remarks at one point).
For the real oldsters, this is an opportunity to revisit their youth. Lucky bastards. For the rest of us, it’s a chance to enjoy music that we never expected to experience live. As the keeper of Floyd history, Mason reportedly has a spreadsheet of every show they ever did, so is able to tell us that he last played in Bath at the Pavilion 55 years ago (April 10 1967, if I’m not mistaken). The 1970 Bath Festival, at which Atom Heart Mother was unveiled, doesn’t count because it actually took place in Shepton Mallet. I’ll get me coat . . .
Naturally, we’d all be forgiving if Mason’s rather unlikely Saucerful of Secrets combo turned out to be a little bit crap, with musicians from contrasting backgrounds pulling in different directions and tempos adjusted to accommodate advancing years. But it doesn’t. In fact, it’s stunning.
Former Blockheads guitarist Lee Harris, who was the main instigator, handles all the slide guitar with great aplomb. Veteran sessioner and Floyd collaborator Guy Pratt, who’s performed that tricky lukewarm water act between Gilmour and Waters, contributes punchy bass guitar and vocals.
Tucked away on the side of the stage, keyboard player and backing vocalist Dom Beken skilfully updates the Richard Wright keyboard sound for modern instrumentation without losing any of its vintage charm, authentically dropping a few bars of the Doctor Who theme tune into opener One of These Days.
Gary Kemp has arguably the trickiest role, but pulls it off by wisely not attempting a Barrett impersonation and proving himself to be an excellent guitarist (electric and acoustic). His sense of humour helps: “Plenty of great T-shirts out there: Uriah Heep, Gentle Giant . . .” Comedy pause. “No fucking Spandau Ballet though!”
Rather like Ian Anderson on Jethro Tull’s anniversary tour, Mason begins by playing in front of a giant projection of his younger self performing back in the 1960s. It’s a slightly disconcerting effect, but if you close your eyes he could still be wearing the fedora and tasselled jacket and sporting that long-lost horseshoe moustache.
The set list covers all bases, from those great singles (Arnold Layne, See Emily Play) to the evocative childhood yearnings of Richard Wright’s Remember a Day; the lovely, folky Fearless from Meddle; and even Barrett’s officially unreleased, semi-autobiographical Vegetable Man. The Nile Song is played exactly as it should be – Floyd go metal.
Often accompanied by the authentic oil projections that old-timers tell us Floyd used to use at their shows at the Pavilion, Bristol Corn Exchange and Victoria Rooms, the psychedelic wig-outs include this tour’s biggest treat: a full, set-closing performance of Echoes, whose opening ‘ping’ is greeted with a huge round of applause.
After two sets spanning two-and-a-half hours, they leave us with Barrett’s jaunty Bike. Homeless Gerald the mouse might be getting even older, but this music remains genuinely timeless.
Review Courtesy Of Mike Evans
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