"More" Album Description:
I’ve always thought of "More" as Pink Floyd doing a day job and accidentally leaving fingerprints all over the office. It’s a film soundtrack, sure, but it doesn’t behave like one. It wanders. It sulks. It suddenly throws a chair. Then it goes quiet again like nothing happened.
The film itself (Barbet Schroeder, 1969) is steeped in that late-60s mood where everyone looks enlightened, broke, and one bad decision away from a very long week. The music fits because it doesn’t “support the scenes” in a polite way. It drifts in, fogs the place up, and lets you sit with it. Sometimes that’s gorgeous. Sometimes it’s deliberately annoying. I respect that.
On the UK side of the collector brain: "More" turns up on Columbia/EMI as SCX 6346, and there are multiple UK variants and later pressings floating around in the wild. If your copy carries matrix markings like YAX 3868-1G / YAX 3869-1G, that’s the kind of small-detail clue that makes you lean closer to the deadwax like it’s whispering secrets. Not because it changes the music. Because it changes the story you tell yourself while the record spins.
And yeah, some of these tracks didn’t stay trapped in the film. "Cymbaline" and "Green Is the Colour" kept showing up in live sets into 1971, which tells you the band thought they had real legs. (They did.) "Green Is the Colour" in particular has that fragile, end-of-the-night glow — the kind of song that makes a room stop fiddling with their drinks for a minute.
The funny part is how unbothered the album feels about being “coherent.” It’s not trying to be a grand statement. It’s trying to be useful, then it gets bored and starts staring out the window. That’s exactly why I like it. The later Floyd cathedral stuff is impressive, but "More" still smells like cables, cigarette ash, and a band that hadn’t yet learned to sand the edges off.
