Piper at the Gates of Dawn (1967)

Active Ingredients: 3 mg British blues rock, 2 mg ’60s pop, 5 mg noise/studio experimentation, 1 mg English countryside camp. Oh, and about 300 micrograms of LSD. Directions: Cancel your afternoon meetings and listen to “Interstellar Overdrive” and “Astronomy Domine” on endless repeat. Try to prevent eyes from rolling back into head. Follow with “The Gnome” to bring yourself back to earth.

Did they really think that fast, hard panning across the stereophonic field was trippy? Yes. And it gives me a headache on headphones.

Closest thing to a Summer of Love jamfest: The choppy, amateurish, bluesy guitar and organ solo on “Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk”.

Most absurd juxtaposition: Following the cerebral cortex exploration of “Interstellar” with the painfully British, fairy tale camp of “The Gnome”.

Weirdest Syd Barrett moment: Surprisingly, not “The Gnome”. Nope, the winner goes to “Chapter 24″, where, amongst Baroque-styled organ licks, Barrett sings: “A movement is accomplished in six stages/ And the seventh brings return / For seven is the number of the young light / It forms when darkness is increased by one.” WTF.

Percentage of the album that feels like you’re exploring Barrett’s id: 82%.

Epic scale: 4 out of 10. Nine and a half minutes of “Interstellar Overdrive.” That’s it.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #7. Kaleidoscopes are vintage cool.

A Saucerful of Secrets (1968)

Active Ingredients: 4 mg repetitive harmonies and drum patterns, 7 mg Richard Wright vocals, 2 mg the dark soul of Roger Waters, 2 mg deep space noise collage, .5 mg Syd Barrett. Directions: Barrett is highly volatile. Do not mix with other ingredients. CAUTION: May cause occasional flashbacks of Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Ingest a healthy dose of David Gilmour’s guitar melodies to counteract these effects. Do not operate heavy machinery while listening to “A Saucerful of Secrets”.

Moment you realize it’s all going to be different with Gilmour in the group: About three and a half minutes into the opening track, “Let There Be More Light”, when a hypnotic pulse gives way to Gilmour’s first guitar solo with Pink Floyd.

Moment you realize that long, quasi-minimalist journeys are the future of Pink Floyd: “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun”. Five minutes, gradual crescendo, whispered lyrics, one harmony, one main melody, endless layers of sound and melodic fragments. Whoa, man.

Percentage of the album that even feels like Syd Barrett is still a band member: 9%.

Awkward Barrett getting kicked out moment: The lyric in “Jugband Blues”, his sole contribution to the album before getting sacked and his last official Floyd tune: “And I’m most obliged to you for making it clear / That I’m not here.”

Number of times I was tempted to skip ahead during the first minutes of “A Saucerful of Secrets”: About five.

Is it worth listening to the first three movements of “Saucerful” to get to the “Celestial Voices” at the end? Absolutely. Actually, it depends on how you feel about The Boredoms or Metal Machine Music.

Epic Scale: 7 out of 10. “Set the Controls” gets points for potential (realized on the live Ummagumma), but “Saucerful” is the winner here: an 11-minute, four-part suite, with avant-garde noise experimentation giving way to a serene, lyric-less voice and organ chorale. When the mellotron strings start playing, it’s downright chilling.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #3. Classic late ’60s psychedelic: space, planets, zodiac signs, swirling colors.

More (1969)

Active Ingredients: 6 mg verse/chorus forms, 2 mg bebop, 2 mg proto-punk, 4 mg instrumental ambiance, 3 mg vaguely exotic drumming, 1 kg heroin, and a dash of David Bowie. Directions: Look at iPod when these songs come up on shuffle, since you can barely tell they’re Pink Floyd. Effects seldom last for more than five minutes.

Wait, are these songs really Pink Floyd in the late 1960s? I know, I know. Skip ahead to “Main Theme”. It sounds like the Floyd we know and love.

Percentage of album haunted by the ghost of Syd Barrett: 85%. “Green Is the Colour” is practically a rewrite of the lyrics to “Astronomy Domine”, and “Cymbeline” is a Barrett tune filtered through Bowie. “A Spanish Piece” tries to capture Barrett’s absurd spirit, but comes off as the most embarrassing thing the band had ever done (until 1983).

How baller is it to have Pink Floyd write a bunch of rock songs and compose an instrumental score for your directorial debut movie? Badass.

Can’t we just get to Ummagumma goddamit!? There’s actually some of the band’s finest traditionally structured songs here. “Cirrus Minor” is a masterpiece.

Epic scale: 2 out of 10. The seven-minute instrumental “Quicksilver” sounds like heroin addiction: lethargic, harsh, and disaffected. Good thing this movie is about heroin addiction.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #10. But that’s not their fault. It’s for a movie.

Ummagumma (1969)

Active Ingredients: 100 g live energy and power, 3 mg primal Roger Waters scream, 4 roughly shaped chunks of avant-garde solo projects, 20 roadies, and a smoke machine. Directions: Take live disc frequently. Get high during “Astronomy Domine” in order to be psychotropically prepared for “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”. Largely ignored studio disc, unless the names Varèse, Stockhausen, or Cage mean anything to you.

Number of live songs that don’t live up to the album versions: Two – “Astronomy Domine” by a long shot and “A Saucerful of Secrets” by a hair. Of course, the Live at Pompeii version of “Saucerful” is the single greatest version of that song, ever.

As far as long, minimalist, droning songs go, which is better, “Careful With That Axe, Eugene” or “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun”? You’re asking me to choose between my children! But if forced, it’s “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”. No band has ever done so much with octave D bass notes.

What do we learn about each member from their solo compositions on the studio disc? Richard Wright lives somewhere in the near east, maybe Greece or Egypt, intensely pondering existence and electronics. David Gilmour is a rock star who is trying to fit in with his new avant-garde friends. Nick Mason seems like the type of guy with whom I’d like to drink absinthe and analyze the music of Edgard Varèse. Roger Waters is fucking weird.

Epic scale: 10 out of 10. One of only two double albums Pink Floyd will release, all four sides contain merely nine songs. Most of the songs are around 10 minutes, and the only short tracks are weird sound collages of animal noises. And really, avant-garde percussion music that could pass for early John Cage? Intent doesn’t get more lofty and grandiose than that.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #4. The recursive photo on the wall with the band members changing position in every shot. Bonus points for the back cover: a runway shot of all the gear, including the percussion monster that creates the mayhem of “A Saucerful of Secrets.”

Wait, did you even realize they changed positions in every shot until you read that on Wikipedia two days ago? No.

Atom Heart Mother (1970)

Active Ingredients: 5 mg sound collage, 100 mg overambition, 4 mg Vaughan Williams-inspired orchestration, bound together by a deep English love of oratorio that goes back to the 18th century. Directions: Listen to the title track to understand just how far Pink Floyd could push the epic, multi-movement idea. Then, as per Roger Waters’ directions, throw it in the dustbin and never listen to it again.

Moment when you think, “Yep, that’s exactly what classical music written by Pink Floyd sounds like”: The first cello solo, over Richard Wright and Roger Waters’ repetitive organ and bass riffs.

Percentage of album that feels like they’re still trying to figure out what a Barrett-less Floyd sounds like: 25%. Clearly, they’ve mastered the large-scale, grandly conceived composition. Now, what to do with all those short songs…

Alright, the ’70s are here, so where’s THE FUNK? A little precursor to the “Echoes” funk jam shows up in Gilmour’s bluesy solo on the title track, the aptly titled fourth movement, “Funky Dung”.

Number of songs on The Wall that sound like they had their origin in Waters’ “If”: At least six. Also, “Pigs on the Wing”.

Year that “Summer ’68″ actually sounds like: 1966.

Epic scale: 8 out of 10. “Atom Heart Mother” is a six-part orchestral and choral suite and the longest Pink Floyd song ever written. “Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast” is 13 minutes of avant-garde collage combined with the sounds of roadie Alan Stiles making breakfast. Plus, the title on the original score of “Atom Heart Mother” was “Epic”. Almost feels like they’re trying too hard.

How psychedelic is “Alan’s Psychedelic Breakfast”, really? Bunk. Should’ve put more mushrooms in that omelet.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #9. Yeah, there’s no title, and no band name, which is cool, I guess. But come on. It’s just a cow.

Meddle (1971)

Active Ingredients: 4 mg restrained but tasteful use of studio effects, 3 mg funk, 1 mg dog barking, 1 metric ton divine inspiration, and one ping. Directions: Listen every day for the rest of your life. Achieve enlightenment/nirvana.

How long do I have to listen before I forget the failed experiment of Atom Heart Mother? About one minute into “One of These Days”.

Is that really Roger Waters playing that mind-blowing bass part? Yeah, but he had cool studio effects to help him out.

Is “Fearless” the single greatest conventional song Pink Floyd ever wrote? Probably.

Point where the planets align, the world achieves a zen-like balance, and your face slowly melts off your head during “Echoes”: Just after the 18-minute mark.

“San Tropez” sounds like they finally figured out how to write a three-minute music hall tune without it sounding like a poor imitation of Barrett. I’d agree with that 140%. This is the first fully “mature” Floyd album. They have figured out how to be the Gilmour/Waters/Mason/Wright Pink Floyd.

How funky? British acidhead white boy funky.

Hey, remember that episode of The Sopranos where Paulie breaks the ski instructor’s knees and then walks away to the opening of “One of These Days”? That was awesome! Nearly fell out of my chair when I first saw that.

Epic Scale: 9 out of 10. Playing “Echoes” in the amphitheater of Pompeii, with images of the totemic heads of ancient Rome and thermally active puddles: There is nothing more epic than that. If “Atom Heart Mother” is a failed 23-minute composition, “Echoes” is the greatest of all time.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #6. Cool psychedelic splashes of color – nice to see them return to what works.

Dark Side of the Moon (1973)

Active Ingredients: 4 mg atmospheric, effected guitars, 5 mg synthesizers, 3 mg recordings of friends and co-workers talking, 2 mg saxophone solo, a cash register, 20 clocks, and a heartbeat. Directions: Combine with Sgt. Pepper’s level studio innovations, expert songwriting, and conceptually unified lyrics about death, violence, and ennui. Best taken in combination with a planetarium laser show or while watching The Wizard of Oz.

Come on. That Wizard of Oz bullshit doesn’t really work… Have you ever tried it? Dorothy moves her head at every new chord in the opening of “Time”, and the color section of the movie begins with the sound of a cash register! It’s a conspiracy, I tell you!

I’ve heard that side one is supposed to be an analog to a sexual experience. “Breathe” is foreplay, “On the Run” is the escalation of things, and the woman screaming on “Great Gig” is, well, you know. Side one is just under 20 minutes. Just sayin’…

Is the guitar solo on “Time” Gilmour’s most classic rock solo to date? As much as we love “Echoes”, we’ve gotta admit, there ain’t much better than the “Time” solo. All bets are off when we get to “Comfortably Numb”.

Wow, these are some really dark lyrics… Just wait until we get to The Wall.

Alright, it’s the early ’70s. Clearly the funk is here, right? Not so fast, Bootsy. There’s a lot more Zeppelin-esque classic rock than funk on this one. But “Money” does take the cake for funkiest song with a 7/4 time signature in music history (the Grateful Dead’s “Estimated Prophet” is a close second). And “Any Colour You Like” sets the precedent for the Pink Floyd blues/funk groove with a psychedelic synthesizer solo on top.

Epic scale: 7 out of 10. Pink Floyd realized they couldn’t follow “Echoes” with another multi-movement masterpiece. So they just created a multi-song masterpiece instead and called it an album. While no single song reaches the level of “Echoes”, “Atom Heart Mother”, or “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”, the “Breathe Reprise” at the end of “Time”, the frequent segues, and the unified subject matter are pretty epic.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #5. Mostly because it’s iconic.

Greatest cameo in music history: Gerry O’Driscoll, the Irish doorman at Abbey Road Studios, who says, “There is no dark side of the moon, really. Matter of fact, it’s all dark.”

Wish You Were Here (1975)

Active Ingredients: 5 mg wild success of previous album, 1 mg nostalgia for Syd Barrett’s “innocence,” 1 mg crowd chanting, 4 mg acoustic guitars, 3 mg synthesized strings, 3 drops of iconic Floyd synthesizer sound. Directions: Sing along with “Wish You Were Here”, lighters aloft.

Percentage of album that lets you into the ego of Roger Waters: 17%. That machine sounds scary. Shit is getting dark.

Why did you learn the guitar part to “Wish You Were Here” at age 14? Because a friend’s older brother told me it would get me laid some day.

So, did it work? Next question.

Is there a more fitting tribute to Syd Barrett than “Shine on You Crazy Diamond”? No. It captures everything great– and horribly wrong– about Barrett. Without “Astronomy Domine”, they’d have never been able to create anything like “Shine on You Crazy Diamond”.

Moment during “Have a Cigar” when it couldn’t be anyone other than Pink Floyd: As soon as you hear that synth, it’s crystal clear.

Wasted space on this record. None. Every moment is perfect. Which you could pretty much say about all four albums from 1971-1977.

Epic Scale: 8 out of 10. “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” is the grand, prog rock composition that isn’t avant-garde or challenging or weird in 1975. It’s just perfect. Emerson, Lake & Palmer couldn’t ever write anything this good, try as they might. Bonus epic points for its book-ending return at the end of the album.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #1. Second only in iconic status to Dark Side but oh so much cooler.

Animals (1977)

Active Ingredients: 3 mg biting social criticism, 2 mg fame getting the best of you, 1 mg Orwellian dystopia, 1 mg double guitar solo, .5 mg animal sounds, 1 mg Frampton talk box, 2 mg valium. Directions: Withdraw from the declining social conditions and youth riots of late ’70s London. Numb yourself with drug of choice and get lost in the three middle songs.

Percentage of album that lets you into the ego of Roger Waters: 90%. Not all is well in ol’ Britannia.

Creepiest Roger Waters lyric: “Just another sad old man / All alone and dying of cancer.”

Is there a greater double guitar solo than Gilmour’s work on “Dogs”? No. Sorry, Thin Lizzie.

“Pigs (Three Different Ones)” is pretty damn funky, huh? Yeah, but it’s just so twisted. No wonder Les Claypool plays it.

Greatest British accent moment in any Pink Floyd song? The way Roger Waters says “charade” on “Pigs (Three Different Ones)”.

There’s a weird robot voice reciting a bastardization of the Lord’s Prayer at the end of “Sheep”. Is this really the same band that wrote the soul-redeeming chorale at the end of “A Saucerful of Secrets”? Wake up, hippie. Clearly, the ’70s were not the ’60s.

Epic Scale: 9 out of 10. The entire album is centered around three large-scale compositions, anchored by late-career winner “Dogs”. Book-ended by two versions of a quiet, solo, acoustic Roger Waters song, its grand proportions constitute the last truly epic effort.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #2. On an album based loosely on Orwell’s Animal Farm, a pig fittingly soars over London’s Battersea Power Station. It’s class struggle, a critique of authority, and a critique of big business. Just like the songs.

The Wall (1980)

Active Ingredients: 3 mg V For Vendetta-styled historical re-imagining, 2 mg classic British dystopia, .5 mg fretless bass, 4 mg psychotherapy through music, 3 bottles of gin, 100 mg Xanax, and 4 kg worth of the first three notes of a minor scale. Directions: Highly unstable, take in small doses. Side effects may include suicidal thoughts and/or sitting in a darkened basement room for hours. WARNING: This album is a metaphor. Do not take literally.

Percentage of album that lets you into the ego of Roger Waters: 100%. And his id. And superego. Mahler would be scared at how much of Waters’ soul is bared on this one.

Creepiest Roger Waters lyric: Really tough to choose just one. But I think I’ll have to go with “Waiting for the final solution to strengthen the strain / Waiting to follow the worms.” In fact, all of “Waiting for the Worms”.

Holy funkenstein! “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2″! Oh yeah, full-on late ’70s disco-rock.

So is he Hitler? Is that what they’re trying to say? The line between reality and surrealistic headspace gets really blurry on this one. Let’s just say that “Pink” is working through some daddy/girlfriend/addiction/abandonment/homicidal issues. Freud would say, “No thanks. I’d rather not treat this guy…”

Ratio of Roger Waters screaming to singing: About 2:3.

Which is the best of the “Another Brick in the Wall” triptych? Popular answer would be “Pt. 2″, but I love the minimal feel of “Pt. 1″, with its slippery bass line and clean, undistorted guitar parts.

Number of times David Gilmour’s guitar solo saves an otherwise crushingly depressing song: At least five. Depends on how depressing you find “Mother”.

How many guitar solos can you sing every single note to? “Comfortably Numb”, “Mother”, “Hey You”, and “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2.” I listened to a lot of The Wall as a teenager. It’s a wonder I turned out well-adjusted.

Epic Scale: 6 out of 10. Almost every song is around three-to-five minutes. But the entire record shows the most thematic and musical cohesion of any album, with a leitmotivic musical unity. The movie, the stage show, and the fact that this is the last good Floyd album earns it plenty of epic points.

Rank in terms of album artwork: #8. Minimal and conceptually relevant, but dwarfed by the screaming face logo of the movie.