Games For May

A review of a recreation of Pink Floyd show at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in the summer of 1967, 40 years to the day.

It was one of the first things I sent to The Guardian blog site and it didn't make the grade, but for the sake of posterity and the thought that some mad trainspotter might be interested, here goes...

and for those of you who don't do 'text' anymore, there's a film of Syd Barrett enjoying nature's flora and (especially) funghi to keep you hooked.

GAMES FOR MAY
LONDON SOUTH BANK QUEEN ELIZABETH HALL
At first glance, recreating the Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd's live set from 1967 seems like an idea better suited to one of those tribute band venues where the Stoned Roses or Counterfeit Stones ply their trade, rather than taking up valuable cultural space on the South Bank.

Having names like Blur guitarist Graham Coxon, the cellist from Belle and Sebastian and Madness drummer Woody on board certainly helps elevate the event above the realms of the purely pantomine experience, as well as ensuring a healthy turnout of the relatively young. But ultimately it's the way that Games For May's instigator and longtime psychedelic veteran Robyn Hitchcock brings alive the spirit of this classic and highly influential cannon of eccentric pop that makes it such a memorable evening.

Taking on vocal and guitar duties, he steers an ever shifting ensemble of musicians through the band's 'Piper At The Gates Of Dawn' and 'Saucerful Of Secrets' albums, interspersing the experimental but surprisingly catchy songs with quips that often have the audience in stitches. But equally he plugs effortlessly into the deep emotional resonance of Barrett's more acoustic solo work - imagine Nick Drake with three times the chords and lyrics that make you laugh - a big chunk of which opens the show's second half and proves the night's ultimate highlight.



That's not to take away anything from the instant charm of better known tracks like 'Arnold Layne', about a miscreant who steals ladies' underwear from washing lines by moonlight, and 'See Emily Play', either of which could be mistaken for Britpop-era Blur. But their influence stretches much further than that, arguably far wider than that of multi-million selling later LPs like 'Dark Side Of The Moon' or 'The Wall'. As Hitchcock quite rightly says, the quirky skanking of 'Bike' does sound like a Madness song.

But when he describes the driving instrumental 'Interstellar Overdrive' as "the beginning of prog rock", he misses the fact that its descending, one-riff powerhousing is also a blueprint for generations of garage rock from MC5 and Sonic Youth through to the White Stripes.

Of course, the lack of tribute band-style dressing up does deprive Hitchcock of the chance to re-enact Barrett's party piece, namely emptying a pot of Brylcream and crushed up pills on his head before the show began, giving the impression he was a melting human candle once the onstage lights warmed up. But the presence of the Floyd's original lightshow team and much of the equipment used at their legendary 60's 'happenings' means there's no shortage of visual thrills either.