Anarchy99
Footballguy
A leftover from Louder:
41. Paintbox
As the flip to 1967’s Apples And Oranges, the Wright-sung/written Paintbox fell between the cracks, but deserved better. Like the befuddled narrator – who “must admit I had too much to drink” – the song never quite seems to find its center of gravity, lurching between ominously clattered acoustics and rattled drums. It was a fair reflection of a band rebooting after their frazzled leader’s exit. “Paintbox was done soon after Syd left,” Wright told a fan Q&A, “and we still hadn’t established the way the band was going to work.”
And a few from Billboard:
42. Paintbox (B-side, 1967)
The flip side to Apples and Oranges, the band’s final Barrett-written single, and almost undoubtedly the superior composition: Floyd keyboardist Rick Wright wrote and sang this one, a psych-pop nugget melodic and creative enough to have made it to The Zombies’ Odessey and Oracle. “I feel as if I’m remembering this scene before/ I open the door to an empty room, then I forget,” Wright sings, unintentionally predicting at least two of their ’70s concept albums in the process.
45. Vegetable Man (The Early Years, 1965-1972, 2016)
Another long-buried early Floyd treasure, though by this one Syd Barrett had self-actualized as the psychedelic cult figure who would gain an immense following at the cost of his own mind: Vegetable Man is near-total delirium, a stomping, directionless garage-rock number that’s half fashion satire and half lonerist cry for help, the song becoming more confused about its own identity as it goes. It’s a transfixing mess, and despite going unreleased for nearly 50 years, the song developed enough of a legend through fan bootlegs to get covered by ’80s underground heroes The Soft Boys and The Jesus and Mary Chain.
48. Double O Bo (The Early Years 1965-1972, 2016)
Originally recorded in 1965 and not officially released for another half century, Double O Bo saw the band tributing early hero Bo Diddley in typically perverse fashion: With a mutant Diddley groove and a narrative about Bo as a super-cool super-agent who drinks himself to death. It would soon never define them again, but you wish the band coulda carried at least a crumb of this smart-alecky inside-jokiness into their brutally self-serious dominant period.
41. Paintbox
As the flip to 1967’s Apples And Oranges, the Wright-sung/written Paintbox fell between the cracks, but deserved better. Like the befuddled narrator – who “must admit I had too much to drink” – the song never quite seems to find its center of gravity, lurching between ominously clattered acoustics and rattled drums. It was a fair reflection of a band rebooting after their frazzled leader’s exit. “Paintbox was done soon after Syd left,” Wright told a fan Q&A, “and we still hadn’t established the way the band was going to work.”
And a few from Billboard:
42. Paintbox (B-side, 1967)
The flip side to Apples and Oranges, the band’s final Barrett-written single, and almost undoubtedly the superior composition: Floyd keyboardist Rick Wright wrote and sang this one, a psych-pop nugget melodic and creative enough to have made it to The Zombies’ Odessey and Oracle. “I feel as if I’m remembering this scene before/ I open the door to an empty room, then I forget,” Wright sings, unintentionally predicting at least two of their ’70s concept albums in the process.
45. Vegetable Man (The Early Years, 1965-1972, 2016)
Another long-buried early Floyd treasure, though by this one Syd Barrett had self-actualized as the psychedelic cult figure who would gain an immense following at the cost of his own mind: Vegetable Man is near-total delirium, a stomping, directionless garage-rock number that’s half fashion satire and half lonerist cry for help, the song becoming more confused about its own identity as it goes. It’s a transfixing mess, and despite going unreleased for nearly 50 years, the song developed enough of a legend through fan bootlegs to get covered by ’80s underground heroes The Soft Boys and The Jesus and Mary Chain.
48. Double O Bo (The Early Years 1965-1972, 2016)
Originally recorded in 1965 and not officially released for another half century, Double O Bo saw the band tributing early hero Bo Diddley in typically perverse fashion: With a mutant Diddley groove and a narrative about Bo as a super-cool super-agent who drinks himself to death. It would soon never define them again, but you wish the band coulda carried at least a crumb of this smart-alecky inside-jokiness into their brutally self-serious dominant period.
