Various Artists - Household Objects (and sundry massed gadgets)

A Closer Listen

Pink Floyd‘s official follow-up to Dark Side of the Moon was Wish You Were Here, but there was also an unofficial follow-up that was never released.  The concept was to record an album using only ordinary household objects: bottles, rubber bands and the like, with no “real” instruments involved.  One can hear the germ of the idea in “Time” and a snippet of the shelved project on both Wish You Were Here and in “Wine Glasses” from the Immersion box set.

Fifty years later, producers Barry Lamb and William Hayter have teamed up for an extensive reimagining of what the project might have sounded like had it been carried to completion.  While household objects have not changed as a whole (despite new objects being added), recording technologies have vastly improved, reducing the human hours needed to produce such an effort.  A wide variety of artists were invited to contribute their own experiments, resulting in the double disc Household Objects (and sundry massed gadgets), which has received the wistful blessing of Pink Floyd’s Nick Mason, who looks back on the original project, which he refers to as a “desperate attempt … to follow up on the extraordinary success of Dark Side of the Moon,” and calls Lamb and Hayter’s tribute “far more interesting than anything we created.”  This does not of course prevent us from yearning to hear the original masters!

Most of us at one time or another have picked up on the percussive qualities of utensils, the resonance of a wine bottle, the drone of a dehumidifier, the fizz and crackle of soda over ice.  We may even have recorded such sounds for posterity (my own fascination was breaking mirrors in a bathtub, which my mother surprisingly tolerated as long as I cleaned up).  But few see this idea through to engage in the creation of musique concrète. Lamb is one exception, his engaging reminiscences tracing the path to the creation of the current album.  At this point it should be mentioned that the physical package is a gorgeous treasure trove of art, photography, and extensive liner notes, including track-by-track details: the very reason physical formats exist.

The album begins with water, as Lester Square infuses “Trickle Treat” with taps, rubs, swirls, sprays and even a shower.  As with many of the album’s tracks, the ear is tricked into thinking that a synthesizer is present.  This is a fine start that makes one want to wander into one’s own kitchen to hear things in a new light.  In an early highlight, Nick Haeffner mixes Alison Craig‘s sounds into a collage, recreating the soundtrack of a 1960’s kitchen.  “A Woman’s Work Is Never Dub” evokes the chores of the typical 60s wife yearning to break free: scrubbing, dusting, cooking, baking, cleaning, a slave to clocks and timers.  CKS & primarily uses coffee cups and rulers, sounding like a teacher deciding if he or she wants to go to work that day.  Geoffrey Richardson makes one want to get up and dance as he hits an extinguisher, a toaster, a vacuum cleaner and virtually everything in sight.

This leads to the question, “Would Pink Floyd be having this much fun?”  The idea of running tape loops up and down stairs to capture all these sounds seems a chore, part of the reason the project was scrapped.  This new swath of artists exudes a feeling of joy.  Apart from Yumi Hara, can one recall any other artist who uses an automatic cat feeder?  In “Gift,” Joby Burgess runs a superball around a ceramic bowl, proving that new music can be found anywhere.  Akaten with Kawabata Makoto uses an egg slicer, and Francesco Paolo Paladino & Karini a leafed book (shades of Parrot & Paperback!), the cavernous echoes of the second half producing a pleasingly widescreen effect.

“Let them play their own tunes!” declares Jon Owen, who turns the liabilities of dripping faucets and inconsistent kettle into the fascinations of found melodies.  Compared to this, Faradena Afifi with Steve Beresford may only be “Washing Up,” but one can detect micro-melodies in their work, a sonic pareidolia.  The Residents contribute the bizarre collage “No Mouse Is An Island” (mouse seemingly not included, save in the raging monologue), the ringing phone a dead ringer for the one heard on The Wall, the first time the album begins to sound like Floyd.  Wastewater and recycling permeate Planetruth‘s cleverly titled “Drum N Basin,” which answers the query of what a toilet might sound like pitched down (the answer: really cool!).

“Do we truly know the objects that share our living space?” asks Two Headed Emperor.  One thinks of the many movies in which appliances take on lives of their own, now exacerbated by A.I., the timbres taking on menacing tones: as they march and amass.  Given Pink Floyd’s topics of dehumanization, one can easily imagine a way in which this original project might have headed.  And so it is a relief to hear BBB-and‘s “Cochina Expresso,” which simply makes one want to have coffee (odd moan in the background excepted).

When Barry Lamb himself steps in, the listener thinks of two things: the joy of the younger Barry, now extended to adulthood; and the original wonder in which Pink Floyd’s music was received.  Peter Ashby and Alex Ashby contribute “End of It All,” one of the album’s most straightforward and song-like pieces, bursting with rhythms and sub-rhythms, with frequent moments of household recognition (a typewriter ding!).  While listening, one recalls the age-old question, “Which one’s Pink?”  This is followed by one of the most abstract cuts: in “Cuppa for Alvin,” Peter Blundell honors Alvin Lucier by recording the sound of tea preparation; then the shortest piece, the self-explanatory, 23-second “Pig Crumb Hoover” by Hazel Jones.  One of the loveliest sequences in the liner notes contains the reminiscences of Geoff Leigh, describing his Mum’s indefatigable efforts to make the perfect lemon meringue pie, with accompanying sounds.  In like manner, William Hayter recreates the home as sonic environment in “HOME:WORK,” collaborating with Fred Thelonious Baker, Birgit Baker Schellhorn and Elliot Baker Schellhorn: what seems like a family affair, and again the phone is ringing, unanswered!

Vacuum cleaner is the primary instrument in Shyamal Maitra‘s “Carnaval des Objets Maison,” but there are a dozen accompanists in all, creating a percussive orchestra, some sounding exactly like snares.  Lamb resurfaces in the next piece, his source recordings entrusted to Census of Hallucinations, a reminder of the many monikers used by members of Pink Floyd on tour.  Dark ambient luminaries Rapoon contribute “What’s the Title?”, highlighted by the use of ship’s bells rocked by water.  Alessandro Monti & Daniele Principato dedicate their piece to Syd Barrett, in which one can hear the distinct sounds of a hair dryer and a paddle afffixed to a ball.  The added bonus is learning that Monti had heard of the original Pink Floyd project in real time, fifty years ago, and is now able to be part of it!  This is one of the most compelling pieces, due to its musicality and intimate backdrop.  William Hayter then reappears solo, performing with pint glasses, pens and a cooking pot lid, making one wonder if the restriction to objects beginning with the letter “p” was intentional.  As a slight downer, the piece references a boiling frog.  Guy Harries‘ “Metallurgy” recalls Matmos and mHz, highlighting the effectiveness of (literal) metal music.  And finally, Hayter and Lamb team up as Grand Hotel to comment on “The Progressive Rise and Rapid Fall of Artificial Intelligence,” making one wonder what would happen if A.I were asked to complete Pink Floyd’s unfinished album; we hope it never happens!

Would Household Objects have been a success had it been completed and released in the wake of Dark Side of the Moon?  Probably not, as initial excitement might have been dulled once listeners learned that guitars and vocals would be absent.  It might, however, have become an underground classic, later considered ahead of its time.  But there’s no criticizing the triple achievement of Wish You Were Here, Animals and The Wall, which The Final Cut was unable to match.  And it is a great deal of fun to speculate on what might have been: an alternative discography, a hidden history, a path not chosen.  Lamb and Hayter’s project is not only an anniversary tribute, but a gift to the imagination and a compelling compilation on its own merits.  (Richard Allen)