NICK MASON

I'm not sure about it, but its the kind of thing that I never ever expected coming from Mason. Yet its someway jazzy due to the great influence Carla Bley printed on this, and to be honest it's not progressive at all. It has some funny moments but nothing really special comes from here. Robert Wyatt contribution ends up as not really helpful on the end result.

Let's face it, this doesn't have anything at all to do with Pink Floyd, it ends up being a work divided between Carla Bley and Rober Wyatt. And due to this the music changes from being tolerable to a certain point an annoying thing, not really surprising, maybe its a collection must for someone who wants a perfectly full Pink Floyd related collection, besides that I don't see the need for this.

I've been surprised to see only 6 reviews and with a so low rating for this album. It's not a masterpiece, and the sound is strongly dated to the 80s, but it's not so bad. The first track is enjoyable, even if Pink Floyd are very far from here. Take into account that when the album was released, PF were still in the immediate post-Waters era, so this album might have given to Gilmour and Mason the opportunity to think to a reunion. Gilmour plays on Lie for a lie, that's also the leading track of the album. It features the vocals of Maggie Reilly, recognisable by her Rs, that was protagonist of the incredible success of Oldfield's Moolight Shadow one year before. All the other songs are nothng more than enjoiable 80s fashioned tracks, but what makes this album interesting for a PF fan is its longes track: Profiles part 1. The rhythm and the acoustic guitar remind to the middle part of Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast, and the only concession to the 80s sound is the "hard" passage that breaks the initial theme and brings on the second. It's a 3 stars only, but I find that the current average rate is really too low.

One of my all-time favorites, this one.

Despite Mr. Mason's pedigree, absolutely no Pink Floyd vibes are to be heard here (save for one Gilmour-esque solo from Chris Spedding). But what you do get is a Carla Bley rock album (on Carla's terms, of course) with lead singer Robert Wyatt on practically every tune.

Lotsa melodic mischief abounds with Bley's band, the aformentioned Spedding, NRBQ's Terry Adams, some familiar upstate NY session horn men, and, oh yeah, Nick Mason all waving the flag. Lyrically, there's almost a benign Zappa tinge at work here - don't miss the hysterical Philip Glass satire that closes the album. And Wyatt, fronting such a large and loud band, is more full throated than on any project he's been involved with since, I'm guessing Soft Machine Vol. 2!

The Carla Bley fans I know find this a little too quaint for their tastes, but my fellow Robert Wyatt fans all feel this is indeed one of Wyatt's all time greatest - a real overlooked diamond in the rough.

Though his name is front and center, Nick Mason only produced and provides his trademark dependable timekeeping. But if it wasn't for Mason, I'm sure CBS wouldn't have given this album the time of day. So, thanks, Nick, for giving us one of the all time greats, even if few have gotten round to hear it.

Everyone here at PA, especially the Wyatt fans, really needs to check Fictitious Sports out at their earliest convenience. One helluva payoff!

5 stars, no problem!

I find Ficticious Sports, as essentially a Carla Bley project, thoroughly entertaining. After much searching, I finally got hold of this record (yes, searching for it was borne out of my Pink Floyd completist obsession). I'm certainly glad I got this record! It's an all-star cast, but it doesn't have the often uncohesive results that can occur when top-shelf musicians are thrust together on the merit of name alone. I think of some of those horrid CTI jazz albums of the 70s...every player was a giant in his or her field, but together they couldn't find musical magic if it bit them in the face. That is certainly not the case here. We get lovely arrangements and quirky lyrics courtesy of the always- interesting Carla Bley, the great bass playing of the inseparable Steve Swallow, the timeless voice of Robert Wyatt, some amazing guitar comping from Chris Spedding, and Nick Mason's solid, tasteful drumming. Sure, one can criticise Nick Mason for his lack of virtuoso chops, but then, when have you ever heard him play too many notes? I'd often rather hear real musicality and taste than chops-a-plenty.

All in all, this record has all the quirkiness that makes Canterbury bands fun and interesting to listen to, coupled with a (slightly skewed) pop sensibility that's never pretensious, great production, and FUN! Get it if you can find it!

When I first heard this record I didn't know Carla Bley or Robert Wyatt. To me it was just a record with Nick Mason on it. I was in the phase of gathering everything I could related to Pink Floyd. At that time, to me, it was just weird. I could relate, however to the floydesque Hot River. With nice bass solo by Steve Swallow that I learnt to love. The humour and irony, as I am portuguese, didn't catch my ear or made my day, but there were some strange arrangements on Can't Get My Motor to Start and I'm a Mineralist, that made me listen to the record more than once. Nowadays I find this a poor effort by Nick Mason. Even if I can appreciate Carla Bley's composition and audacity, and her will to do a record which is as far from her music as a fish is from a tree. Robert Wyatt sings with vitality and is really a pleasure to hear him. But the overall sensation is that this record was a comission. There's not a hint of a new voice, or a new approach to music by the drummer. His technical skills are scarce and limited and he doesn't evem try a bit harder. He's not even trying to try as Robert says on Do Ya? To me it is a bit strange that, when confronted with the tribute bands of Floyd music Mason seems the most irritated, saying that everyone should stick his or her compositions. What would Nick play if everyone agreed? Not even a song of his, so to speak, album. So, to me, even if i love Carla Bley's music, and I hear it on Do Ya?, to me this is a almost totally failed record. Carla Bley would gladly forget it and I think Robert Wyatt too. It doesn't add a bit to the music history or makes a point about anything. And, atfer all, it is what is meant: they are just Nick Mason's Fictious Sports. There you are. It is just plain and harmless fun.

This record sits in my archives and gets a dusting off every couple of years. There are a number of very good musical moments on it, but simply not enough to overcome the bizarre Carla Bley avant garde jazz material. Don't get me wrong, I think Carla Bley is a major force in the history of modern jazz, but even to me, with a confirmed taste in jazz, a bit of the ideas are a bit over the top aesthestically, and, that is saying a lot. For those looking for a Pink Floyd solo effort, this is not your record. The only thing that sounds vaguely like Pink Floyd is session guitarist extraordinaire Chris Spedding's guitar work on Hot River. Mason's drumming, as always, is handicapped by a profound lack of talent, his talents largely existing conceptually and behind the scenes. Wyatt's vocals have always been a polarizing kind of thing- you tend to either love them or hate them. His hoarse, thin delivery is up some people's alley. The musicianship on the record, despite its many conceptual and executional shortcomings, is excellent. Can't Get My Motor to Start is a riot. Siam is a bore. All in all, this recording, now out of print, should probably remain that way. With many notable exceptions, material with more lasting power tends to provide more substantive musical, aesthetic or historical statements, and when it comes to those, this one simply just doesn't past muster. It remains a curiosity worthy of 2.5/ 5 stars.

A highly enjoyable (but not great) album. I only wish it were in print (which, at the time of writing, it isn't). Not quite jazzy enough for Carla Bley, not weird enough for Robert Wyatt, still it's dominated very much by both of these artists, and as previous reviewers have pointed out, the fast songs are the best! I was wrong and Siam are ballads that hover between teasing, fascinating and irritating. Do ya is a splendid torch song, and I'm a mineralist a tongue-in-cheek parody of the minimalist movement. Best of all are the uptempo numbers such as the Zappa-esque Can't get my motor to start and Boo to you too. Strangely enough, Mason's role on the album is negligible. You can't really call his drumming outstanding; you certainly can't guarantee Pink Floyd fans will enjoy this music. Apparently, Mason just wanted to use his name to put Wyatt and Bley in the spotlight - a noble gesture, for which he deserves a lot of praise. Let's hope FICTITIOUS SPORTS will be back in print as soon as possible!

Nick Mason likes the touch of progressive nature into his music of different stringing and different affections (imaginable or simply sensible), despite being the composer and the soloist with the most loose connection with Floyd and the rock panorama from all the fellow members, obviously having the utmost related fling with progressive rock and the new dimension it, sort of, served the 80s. The music isn't out of boisterousness, even if the compositions sound simple, smart and serious. The haste of composing brand original and personal ideas is more sensitive then everything Mason serves in quality, there's a bit of opening out towards instrumentality beyond his greatest strength too, but the result is a product of smiling easy moves and low abstract, in a restless competition of keeping awake the listener, fancying greatly the art within and doing some arrhythmic concepts over something that only needs a clean, sober and fresh sound. Nick Mason's pending short solo music isn't for anything or anyhow, but somehow it isn't for anyone either, not out of any arrogance in the style-reflection, but out of music that's made for a free gesture and an even more free spirit. To me, Mason released his own music to cuisine his own mood in fashion of music, low-influence, successful pointed spark and a couple of good intuitively marked. The rest resides pop, shock-rock, minimal-weighted concept, heavy artificiality, beat-galore, a bit of a shady 80s dominant expressions, touching small-sound...and progressive rock related ammonia.

The adventurous, corny or full-flesh music-spindle of Nick Mason stops at having the charisma of a musician in the lights of a boogie-spin, a droplet abstract or a pop-creative connecting moment. Everything running a nice sense of music, an impeccable simple taste, just not enough for a mind-blowing perspective; one happening would even exaggerate the standard, the bias or the head-loose entertainment that Mason's music presents. Fictitious Sports remains the most recommended prop-pop album, just because it has a lot of enjoying moments, good personality rock and a touch of whiskery avant-directions, nothing strange, only curios and competitive to the taste and the shady-gray stress. This second album can't do more than complementing the previous effort, despite a royal relation with Rick Fenn from 10cc (he himself isn't doing one of its most passive solo music in here, if you ask me, the album could actually work more for him than it does for the key-figure, after all, of Nick Mason), with Maggie Reilly (who is clearly an artisan of good, maybe silent collaborations: Mike Oldfield comes quickly in mind, Moonlight Shadow too) or David Gilmour himself, which chants little, but reminds of a certain feeling (he has a contemporary album with Mason, but the lines of thought are more different than anything). Mel Collins is a surprising guest, but the sax is a bit twiddle in anything it resaturates, represents, rivetes. By Profiles, Nick Mason's recommends about three things, each with the dual meaning of bad or unachieved: the sense of occasional fun music, within a repertoire of concluding art; the pulse of letting go in front of the music-spin and taking the serious abstract into an easy free, maybe even romantic glare; and the hypothetical pleasure of just listening to the music, without a burden of intense energy, or a too improvise serenity. The second and concluder short-stern by Nick Mason proves a deficient album, but a pleasant character into defining him.

None of the pieces from Profile are essential or anyhow but short-memorizing, and few have a passionate sensible chord. The album is, integrally, its own star and quality, giving luminous ideas in more than capable improvisation, interferences or plays. Sound-sketching is a thoughtful idea for this work of the two main artist, but the tempting ideas remains those of pop-prog, pop-abstract, low-sound, generous-mazedness, powerful brush-stroke and excitement-play. There's the loud humor to hear stiff-necked, but in the essence, the album is a synthesis sonic pulse and a art-spot album. Israel is most likely a success of all pushable and mold-ish elements, some other present lyrics with a special tone, the best instrumental sweeps are those made in the evasion of digital, mopish or defector characters, and the best vibes of it getting to the listener's "empathy" are under the relaxed couch dreaming, upon the small room ambiance, walk-sojourn or soft intense play. I don't mean much by the following relations, but this music has the certain related appeal to vocal works by Eno (but without the art rock loose thought), drastic easy moves and learnings by Hackett, a bit of Bowie, Andy Summers, maybe (but only maybe!) some produced work orientation (which Mason does, in the end, better), some single-paths of music and style-drop and the fresh giving certainty that music is for a lie, a living or a fleeting glimpse. It ends with a profile.

Profiles by Nick Mason with Rick Fenn proves good music has a tasty low value, it won't be anything upon a clear, constant taste, but it's worth taking a lot into the very relaxed moves Pink Floyd artists did, solo, and (mostly) without caring that much of their roots, of the glory powder having to seek a valuable expression or of good moves being any different than the easy music for the soul and the momentary temptation. Two stars, obviously, but this is occasionally enjoying.

One would have to say that by 1981, it was high time for Nick Mason, Pink Floyd's drummer, to unleash a solo work, as all other Floyd members had already done so years before. What we have here is not a Mason 'solo' work per se, (we don't get any experimental treats like 'The Grand Vizier's Garden Party) ; all of the compositions were written by Jazz keyboardist Carla Bley, and involved many jazz oriented musicians such as Gary Window, Steve Swallow, Mike Mantler, Chris Spedding and the wonderful Robert Wyatt, among others. The musical style couldn't be further away from Floyd as this : a nod towards Zappa, a touch of Canterbury, and kind of alternative rock with slight RIO tendencies (actually, these observations could be applicable to certain Floyd in some ways...). Humour permeates many songs on the album, and with Wyatt handling the mic, there is no-one better to convey the often quirky lyrics with as much intelligence and wit. Technically speaking, Mason's drumming is almost perfunctory (he's not the world's greatest drummer, but he often has a headful of ideas and a 'magic touch') whilst the rest of the band play their parts perfectly around him, the brass instruments in particular. No one song is better or worse than the other, making it a fairly consistent listen throughout, but hats off to 'I Was Wrong' and 'I'm a Mineralist' (minimalist, I guess). 3.5 stars.

This is a rather bizarre album! There are omnipresent brass arrangements that sound slightly jazzy, funky, fanfare music and even RIO/avant garde, like on "I'm a mineralist". Nick Mason's drums patterns can be quite elaborated & fast here, especially on "Boo to you too" and "Can't get my motor to start", if you compare them to his work with Pink Floyd post-Barrett. Some keyboards are REALLY low profile, mostly producing odd and strange sound effects. There are omnipresent good piano parts. There are some twisted & dissonant sax sounds like on "I was wrong". The rhytmic electric guitar sound is a bit too monolithic. The songs have too many repetitive patterns that do not really retain the attention, so that the overall music is more progressive related than progressive itself. Robert Wyatt is the lead singer, and we really feel his influence here. Mason's drums are quite good, but there are some unconvincing pieces, like "Siam" and "Hot river". I prefer the dynamic and fast songs like "Boo to you too". The sound is good and the instruments are well played. Mostly the album is neither catchy nor accessible at all. Plus, the songs are pretty unemotional. This original and unique album is certainly not bad if you accept its clinical dimension.

Rating: 3.5 stars