Editor’s Letter
I’m pretty sure that if you were signed to the Harvest label, for instance, it was part
of your contract that at some point or other you would fetch up in Bridgend, playing the
Kee, which was probably not much bigger than your front room. I remember seeing an
incredibly stoned Roy Harper, Pete Brown’s Battered Ornaments, with Chris Spedding on
amazing lead guitar, and The Edgar Broughton Band, whose colossal hairiness was impressive
even by the standards of the time.
Pink Floyd – our cover stars this month – came to the Kee Club on March 15, 1969, a
miraculous visitation. Syd Barrett was long gone by now, replaced by Dave Gilmour. There
was a feeling, I recall, that their moment had passed, that without Syd they might be a
bit of a lost cause.
I have to say, however, that they were astonishing. I stood directly in front of Roger
Waters, who seemed to tower above me, head brushing the low ceiling. He remains possibly
the most intimidating presence I’ve ever seen on stage, full of gaunt intensity. What they
played that night was basically the live set that appears on Umma Gumma and I knew that
during “Careful With That Axe, Eugene” Waters would start screaming, as per the original
recording, the B-side of “Point Me At The Sky”. But when the shrieking starts I am still
frightened out of my wits.
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FEEDBACK - Your letters
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